I’m currently paranoid. I thought it might be informative to write about what my perspective feels like at this point in time, while in the moment.
People know me. People who have never met me know me. Through the internet. Through my traces I have left on the webosphere. And they all hate me. They all have gripes with me. Some want to cause me harm. If I put out personal information it would be dangerous and they could get me.
I have to be very careful. They can subliminally talk to me and enter my mind, sort of like the sports phrase “get in your head” when competing, except IRL and nasty. They torture me psychologically, harass me. Then they lie to the masses and make it seem like they’re kind people with good intentions. It’s lies and hypocrisy.
I’m not safe and everyone is trying to get me.
I am reminded of a delusional period I had when I was the most wanted man on Earth. It’s hard to describe what “severely unsafe” feels like, but that’s what it was.
Now is getting there, but not as bad.
I want something to do, but I don’t want to do anything. This will make sense to someone who speaks fluent English, i.e. not my mother who takes things too literally and doesn’t understand metaphor and other literary devices.
Man fuck her.
Aww that made you angry.
I don’t give a shit.
The paranoia keeps coming. Splendid.
I want my life back. I don’t remember all the hard work I put in but apparently I studied, worked, and competed a lot. In school, work, and sports, respectively.
I don’t know where I’m going. Nowhere, it feels. I’m a useless human being but if the government finds out they’re going to throw me in an insane asylum or just a prison to rot. Spend lots of taxes on me and ruin my life. Because logic, lol.
I’ve been trying to read Mapping the fourth dimension, Laura Foley’s poetry anthology (she has a few), to stay afloat. It doesn’t really move me. Nothing does. I’m cool like a robot. No one appreciates that but my middle brother.
I don’t know what’s wrong, but something is desperately wrong. Something about my environment is horribly, atrociously, terrifyingly wrong. I don’t know what, which makes it dangerous. It might be my parents, it might be the government, it might be terrorist organizations. I don’t know. It’s probably just the Church poisoning my mind again.
Fuckers. Religion is useless.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti. Apparently a poet. I need to read all these poets and become accustomed to these names. It’s a goal I never work toward.
I should at some point write down all my goals that I have, but am not aware of having. It’s sort of intrinsic, and I just kind of laze all about the day.
I don’t know what to do. Sigh. Life is fucked.
Reality has no meaning.
Leaving you with that lovely parting thought.
Stay safe etc. don’t be a dumbass fuck fuck fuck nevermind whatever I don’t care I don’t know.
Life is misery.
I don’t know what to do.
How do I quit?
Writing here doesn’t do anything?
I need to figure out how to write a good ending.
I think it’s part of my psychosis that no blog ending sounds good to me.
So I guess I just cringe and suffer.
Okay fuck it I give.
This is it.