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.
How do I fall asleep?