I should get to sleep but I probably won’t for a while. I have no information to base this statement off of one way or the other but it’s just a hunch.
Dad woke up downstairs from his evening nap on the living room sofa and now he’s a psychic threat to my sanity. Which is a giant fucking shame.
Why I am so weak regarding swearing now.
People with ADHD have no business criticizing me. I know what I’m saying. There is flow to the narrative.
I had some thoughts. Hmm. I think, I had some dough knots from a pizza place brother ordered from. They weren’t as good as they usually are, because they didn’t have as much cheese and pesto in them. I wonder why.
Nick is talking to me on text, which is really out of character for him. He apologizes for not being a better conversation partner. I apologized for worrying him. So, we both apologized. I guess that was in order though no one really knew it, or why.
Mom’s still watching TV next door. Umbrella Academy.
I don’t know. Baby brother is alone in his apartment elsewhere nearby.
No distant relatives.
I don’t know why but anxiety is getting harder and harder for me to recognize in myself.
I don’t want to be direct and name things for what they are. That seems to destroy their value. Or at least, I’m scared of that being how it works. Is it? How can you know without testing?
Then there are the barbarians that just hack and slash through everything. My dad is one of those people. Is one of hte reasons I don’t like him. He has no sensitivity.
Well anyway, what I wanted to say: Lullaby Set by Jami Sieber and Shira Kammen is gorgeous music. It’s from the Braid soundtrack. That is a video game. A puzzler with a plot revolving around unrequited love and time travel. Sort of like that one movie/book, uhhh, what’s it called, … Benjamin Button.
People just love spying on me, don’t they. Like what the fuck is [insert real name] up to today! So many people I have met who don’t give a shit about me suddenly do, and like they never cared, never helped, but suddenly they do? And I”m just supposed to open my heart to them? God damn it.
My voice is being interrupted halfway in between my sentences again. This happened really reall ybadly yesterday and it was intolerable. It’s not as bad now but still bad. So basically I can’t think. I dno’t know how it works a neuroscientist should know but the sicneces aren’t democratized they’re authoritarian.
Yeah that’s proof.
Don’t move on too quick <– note to self
But I dont’ care also.
NOT killing myself FYI. Thanks.
What was I going to say.
Writing is still weaker than SAD.
Nick si a bad friend. I’m not allowed to get angry at anyone. Gossiping is a low thing to do. Unless no one gets hurt. He’ll never find out. What if he does? I don’t know I guess he’ll be all like, why why why are you so angry with me and some such. But eh. I’m invested in him not finding out because he’s better off not knowing how nagry I am with him. It’s called GOOD BEHAVIOR pricks. Choices mattress.
Families de-democratize medicine. And the science is in my mouth.
It woul dbe, if my mom weren’t such a BIATCh ffs.
Well it is what it is. Illegal to talk these days! Insaneo country. No authority over its own territory. Jesus fucking christ! Gang warfare ftw! Vive la france! Save the queen!
Well anyway. Punk.
Journalistic instincts. Strong with this one. Avant garde journalism. Strong with this one. I guess that describes me in a nutshell, as a blogger.
Never looked at it that way.
Well in any case, in case you were wondering, the next quarter tab of suboxone is in my mouth under my tongue above the base of my mouth. Floor. Not base.
All ur base are belong to us.
Getting involved with the media hurts. But, alas, this is sacred knowledge and no one can know. Understand and I’ll have to kill you.
Now (bow wow) someone is going to take that to seriously and overreact at me with like, a police officer call or a psych ward hospitalization.
No one knows where i Live do they?
Why is mania bad?
Look, all I’m saying is: The media’s dangerous, and none of us should have any, because then we’d all be better off. Our lives would be healthier without TV, magazines, and all that jazz.
Well. Catastrophe, in any case, at this point in time. I’m fucked. That’s about it. And we all have to finish somewhere. I can’t just go until it’s naturally a good time to stop, because I have to go to work tomorrow at 9. Yes, that’s how long it’d take, and longer. I can go that long. Thanks. So anyway.