Every night is not normal. Every night is not life. Every night is success or failure. Being alive is success or failure. My thought process, did I do it correctly or incorrectly. If/when I fail, I feel terrible. When I succeed, I’m alright. I need to stop swearing. I need to get back to more innocent times. I am capable of so much and I just waste it.
The gift of creation. The synthesis. Chemistry. Not just art, but science. Making medicines. Making ideas. Discovery. What is its sound?
Love. The blend of the two. Love and discovery. Knowledge. Engineering, building things, life long ambitions.
The only lifelong ambition I’ve ever had is, when I was a FYO in elementary school, I wanted to be a mathematician because I thought math was the language of the universe. So. THAT ambition was not nurtured by my parents, though you’d think it would be. Freak-fuck father took over and put me into sports, tennis. Asshole. Where was mom?
The sound of creation. Of dying. Never. Forever. Some concepts. So difficult to grasp.
I envy you. With lifelong ambitions, who were able to pursue them.
I’m just now getting to the math. I’m just now getting to it. I mean I studied until sophomore college, but when it stopped there was a decided, “Oh wow, I’m not studying math anymore” epiphany. A bad epiphany. It was atrocious. I’m crying. But I’m picking it up again. I’m picking up the pieces.
I don’t know what to say about my life. Has it had any meaning so far? Who have I been? Who have I interacted with? All that fear around others. It’s been there so long. I don’t know. School was atrocious. I miss you all. I was so scared of you.
The thrill. Discovery. Education. Learning. Power. Power of mind. Tranquility.
Something’s not right. And I can’t fix it.