life commentary, poetry, personal writings and photograpy
I don't think I should put anything more into this. None of this is to be read.

musts

I just have to stay distracted.
I cannot be left to thought.
I cannot be left idle either.
I must choose these distractions wisely.

hire me

I don't fucking understand this. I am given no options, yet I am taking all. Willing, ready and pathetically desperate. I cannot take a single step this way.
Am I not qualified for life? Even simplicity is fine, I need so little at this point. My time is worthless and worth less.
Maybe I should just be a horrible person, I am convinced of this anyway, it could at least be valid and bringing me something. I've never been good at any criminal activity, I don't know enough people to sell drugs anymore and I am not a good liar. Yet it is clear I am of the depths of society.
I really only want money to help others so its kind of contradictory. I don't want anything or need anything, I just want purpose. Something to offer others. This drive is stronger than anything for myself, I care nothing of me. It is too late for me so I'd like to at least provide out of my otherwise meaningless existence something. Something.
Stupid fuck.

I miss my ife.

Good one...

Exam today, important, leave late, drive into another car, then get a parking ticket. This should throw enough balance of good and bad that I will receive abundant points with no effort. Try to fuck up more often, make things as complicated as possible, failure is the best road to success.
I am becoming more and more desperate for life. I'm clinging to nothing.
Good luck then, idiot.

Reusable good intentions. Tuesday #3



Views of rooms and whoms

Man, you fucked up and horribly so.

Sense

Start at the end, then start over.

Click here repeatedly

Scroll down for content

Grounded



friends, interactions and distractions

I am still not living, I don't need help from anyone else to do it, but maybe I need some friends, a crew. I think I need guy friends, I have no camaraderie other than a large dog. Any other friendship balances of labels of relationships and heart-filled bullshit that I do not need. Fuck, I don't really know what I want. There is no who, just a what now.I can't have my life, its not mine anymore. There is nothing left inside me anymore, I wish I had a structured gig going so I could drone out of this anxiety at the least. I continue to fail at even the simplest levels. Selling scraps of life for 20 bucks a hit is getting nowhere.
choices. I don't know what the fuck I am doing. I'm not fighting this all hard enough, I am inviting failure, I skim at the edge of the settled scum, proud to not be stuck in the depths, but never creating any distance from it. it is a pathetic reality.
Why did you choose to do this?
This unreadable shit continues. I am not doing things to be proud of in any way. Pointless photography and idiotic writings, this is not creation of any kind. It can only be considered expressive to me as I am venting and expressing my mindless, useless thoughts.
writings.
I am torn between this open isolation and living the realities.
I don't know what I am looking for anymore.
I cannot find reason, feelings or distraction in anything.
Am I really completely alone? I mean on the depth and validity of me? I didn't think I was.
Yes, and.

Sacre-du

I am a try this again it must be some pointless can imagine anybody's actually reading any of these completely blank nothingness and finally I have no problem then
I love anything that anybody really cares what I think anyway

Oh my Fuck, I feel awful and son is a fool burbling core churning of nothingness can't feel more drugs more creative more money

No, no, it's working just fine, this is fine, it doesn't matter. I'm still here is regardless otherwise and I have to do it.






O for the love of Dog, what can I do? I can't sit still, I cant move, I want to explode and shrivel into nothing. Fuck.
Thump, Thump.

again

I'm losing it again. I'm slipping. It's all getting through again. Disconnect. Stop thinking, stop feeling. Who are you? You can't do this anymore.
If I have nothing to say, I should express nothing.
Fuck.
Fuck, what am I to do?
I have no control, no power over anything. Why the fuck not?
I am powerful, strong, I can do anyfuckingthing.
But here I sit. With nothing. No being.
Control, focus, why is it so unobtainable?

Yes, here I sit. Writing stupid nonsense to no one. Creating nothing, moving in no direction. Why are you here? You don't fucking exist.

Yesterday morning

What has happened to me? Who is me? I am filthy and empty. I only bathe for job interviews and sex, both of which leave me feeling more hollow, more failed, less me.

I am not on any track, no road has been chosen, I am blindly plotting random paths through thick, dark fields with no visibility, no idea what is ahead, behind the next hill, across the next valley. There is no horizon, no defined up or down, north, west, direction means nothing as progress is never made despite efforts or lack of.

I feel nothing, I have nothing, nothing is real. I am a fraud: true of heart. I am a failure.

Old notes


Dramarammatrauma

My dog is hungry

Yes, it was blatantly clear, it was at the edge of every passing, it was in tones and with extra adjectives to mask it, but she could not resist blunt validity and now told me; she loves me.

I told her I needed a cigarette...
Why won't it stop? Go away, stop feeling, it's too much. Please.
Would you mind terribly if I just quit?

57.5


Empty
My brain is on fire.
Don't do this anymore.
Why does anything happen? Why did that happen? How could any of these things be?
There certainly must be a mistake. There is a lack of research to say the least.
Things are.
So what is next? At least stock is pure. It is the only cope.
Everything hurts.
You don't want me, let's fuck.
Fucking right, at least I'm off the floor now.