When nothing really matters
I see you knowing me on the inside, on the outside, deterred
By the understanding of both distances from and between one another
Standing typically at place and in stead of wondrous things
No nonsense just a lust for the wild
And thoughts of deeper places, unknown to us
I think of them
We go there
The distance is measured
But it’s all a waste
Because nothing really matters
They take crows from the grave to make toenail clippings into magazines
No one’s telling twice whether we mean for reading or shooting
The camera is the gun
We mean we do we run
And go on
The heathens in between carry twice the load to the mountaintop
We breathe their air and steal their time
Because they have too much to give
Without knowing why it ever took them astray
I line up in my mind
Ready for the firing squad
It will never come
Time will kill me first
And the molecular clock
Keeps on ticking…
How is it possible to feel so alone so early on a Saturday.
What’s the point
I won’t like it
Why waste the time trying
It could happen any time
Any one of these times could be a success
Pastries in the kitchen
I’m running away from the point
I’m changing topics
No one likes me
But that’s not what bothers me
What bothers me is my anxiety
I can’t be entertained by anything
I can’t read
I can’t appreciate art
I can’t learn computer languages
Because I don’t see the point
I don’t see any future in it
Just learning for the sake of it
Is lost on me
I don’t study math
There’s a math book open on my floor
I don’t read it
I am not a good person
And it makes sense that I should be unhappy
Because bad people don’t deserve to be happy
And those who can’t tolerate hard work despite the pain
Don’t deserve anything
Or, much at all
You have to enjoy or at least push through the pain of
Hard work that has no meaning
You have to give it meaning
For your family
You have to improve yourself as a person
To help others
Just push through it
Like a Nike commercial
What else is there to say…
I wake up with restlessness nowadays. Bed is no longer comfortable in the morning, it’s uncomfortable, so I can’t sleep in. I can hardly stay in bed. It’s basically a form of pain.
I walked outside and looked at my mother’s garden, or at least the third of it to the right side, in the post-Christmas cold, and thought immediately not much of it. But then it struck me, given who she is, the garden was monstrously difficult to erect, AND it wasn’t a success. That’s like that for almost all things for her. Simple pleasant things, things that are supposed to be simple and pleasant, are difficult and unsuccessful for her. There are forces in her way, either my dad getting in the way, or she is just too (unstatedly) depressed or unmotivated or sleepy from working the night shift all the time. That’s her whole life. And I feel this relates to my restlessness in the morning, where simple pleasures are snatched from us as a family, and that this is how we live, and that there’s nothing we can do about it.
So she should get much more credit than she does. I don’t know about myself.
The seoncd greatest thing that happened to me in grad school
sitting at my desk
and falling brain dead
smashed against the surface of the desk
for eight hours
in shallow, life-engulfing pain
to raise head above the surface
and beginning to draw
on the tape covering the hole on my desk that my father put there, out of love
(the hole from when I smashed it in with my heel, standing on the desk, in a rage)
with a green sharpie
then the sun rose
I don’t know what to do. I’m so antsy. I can’t relax. I can’t enjoy anything. Anhedonia sucks. I wish I could read books or listen to music or watch youtube videos at least. But I can’t do any of that. I actively dislike everything. And I feel miserable. There is no medical cure for my condition.
I never thought I would be the one with the disease. I always just assumed I would do great things all my life with my health strong. Now my fight is just to be alive.
How am I supposed to work.
My life is such a waste now. I don’t like anything. I don’t like having anhedonia.
I don’t know if writing actually helps me. It’s the only thing I can do easily. I guess I should at least be thanksfulfs for dat.
I wish I knew more magick.
Watching some shit on Twitch. Everything on Twitch is shit. The streamers are all so defensive and telepathically harassey. Towards me. I don’t like them. They’re not good people.
The games all suck these days. I outgrew games. I don’t like anything. Or maybe it’s just my disease. I wish I liked rote video/computer games, the story, the atmosphere, the mechanics. Appreciation for all of it.
I don’t know what to do. I’m having more kt today and it seems to be helping. I only have enough for today and not much for tomorrow so my new shipment better fucking arrive Monday.
My life is pointless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why DansGaming is telepathically invading my privacy. I don’t know why people feel it is okay to do that. Most people are not good people.
So I guess symptoms starting already. Mid-afternoon. It’s gonna be a long evening.