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.
