People and their psychic espionage. It’s audible. It’s visible. No one gets it, that their disappointment is why I don’t give them my moneys.

Beggars. Stupid beggars.

And useless humans at that.

How why do I have the right to write here.

Writing. The technology. It’s amazing it exists.

Reading some Laura Davies Foley. She’s alright. Simple. Pretty good.

Found a dec chick on Twitch.

I don’t want to meet my true love now because we’d have an abusive marriage before it started.

Had some croutons. Still hungry. What to eat in a house full of the parents neglectful grocery shopping?

It’s not that I’m a pushover, it’s that I don’t exist. It’s different, not a gradation.

I downloaded some style to my brain through a book. Poetry can do that.

It’s also a good start intro to books.




Question is,

How do I fall asleep?

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