Well it’s Saturday, like that’s an excuse to not study and learn and work hard. I’m so lazy. Is depression an excuse? So many people ask that question. It’s only natural given the degree of self-doubt. I don’t have the answer, because I’m in the hole too.

Desperately seeking, not craving, craving is not the right word, seeking yes because I am being proactive about it, I am spreading my wings to find like-minded individuals, it just takes waaay longer than you’d think it would. You have to find environments where you’d find yourself flourishing, and then you find others there, and then you know you have something. Sort of my strategy, not to be cold-hearted about it.

What was I going to say…

It’s Saturday, so I don’t know. I need to study CSS. I wasted money on that data science course. I’m so obsessed with my future. What about the moment? Have I forgotten how to simply exist? I know I no longer am capable of it, but does that necessitate that I have also, to put it nonequivalently, forgotten how to?

Oh big words. Poi.

I’m desperately seeking the arts. Sport. Sport is art. The beauty of refining meaningful body motion. Body motion with a purpose. That’s sport.

Clammy. Cold sweats. Hey, no peeking!

I wonder. I wonder if my true love is in France. Hahahaha what a superficial childish thing to say. What of me. I apologize.

Well. To wonder, though.

Hmm.

Arching my back.

What do I do now.

I don’t know.

Using social media to find new artistic connections.

I want to rule the world with arts and culture.

How do I get there.

Hmm.

This whole literary magazine thing is such an experiment. I have no idea what I’m doing. Well that’s not true. I just have no precedent. I’ve never done it before, and I have no models to go off of, beyond the front gates of other magazines. There’s so much behind the scenes. Is there, though? Is there really?

How is my setup so bad for my posture. When did this happen? Or is it just because of my fat fucking abs? Useless muscles. No strength.

I am weak.

I guess the goal is to keep seeking, keep hunting. Find the right people, find the right media.

I wonder how all this will sound in retrospect.

Typing is so weird. You convert your brain thoughts into words on the page. Communication blows my mind. Transfer of information. So weird.

Well.

So yeah I’ll keep seeking.

I guess that’s all.

I don’t want to come off as too machismo or overly determined.

Or. Whatever. Frenetic. Eh.

I don’t know.

Okay just stop saying that just know.

Just know.

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