I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. Life is too convenient. Is life too convenient? It’s far from. Exercise is still an excruciating effort. Making tasty food is hard. Pushing yourself to work feels like shit. People proclaim we live in an era of convenience, but I really think that’s not true. The main components in life, activity and function, are really not convenient at all.
I don’t like movies, books, music, anything. I’ve lost my taste in food. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s a product of my cloistered lifestyle.
My therapist says many people are struggling because of the pandemic. Isn’t “epidemic” the correct word? Well in any case, I don’t like being grouped together with all the other morons in this country, on this planet, so casually. My therapist is a pretentious ass. All therapists are. It’s in their nature. Nothing personal. But seriously, fuck them.
He’s spying on me reading what I’m saying and he’s a lowlife for it. Fuck you.
Twisting my mind. I don’t know how it’s done. Disturbing images through my computer screen.
Life is miserable. I don’t like healthcare. I don’t like how they do business. I’ve been sick so long. I don’t know. It’s not a very promising success ratio.
I wasn’t anticipating talking about healthcare. Mostly I just wanted to bitch and moan about my misery some more.
People restricting my freedom of speech. Fuck.
And then, the cops say they use everything you say against you. I don’t know. That’s scary. I don’t like the police. They seem like the ultimate police state pawns. Idiots. Fuckers.
I don’t like doctors. I don’t like cops. Who do I like? Artists. Actors, sometimes. Scientists, usually. Engineers.
I don’t know what to say. Fuck you.