Analogue

There are details. My inner monologues says they may be important.

It might be a dialogue.

But I’m not telling you what they are.

Because I’m tired.

Too tired.

It’s just for entertainment anyway.

I have a caffeine dependence. I need it to stay healthy.

I have dependence on modern pharmaceutical medicines. I need them to stay healthy.

I don’t know why. It bothers me. I don’t like being weak, or vulnerable, or liable.

I don’t want to live in the shadow of these dependences. If the substances leave society, if their production ceases, I die. I die a slow, painful death. First, through insanity. Then, I don’t know, maybe that’s it. Crazy, ded.

Fuck.

I’ve been swearing on here a long time.

But I haven’t been communicating.

What have I been doing then?

I’ve been pleasant. The insanity and vile behavior is somehow, nice.

Somehow.

But. The only thing is, and maybe there’s more, but, the main thing is, it never lasts very long. It never lasts long enough. My kindness.

There isn’t enough of me. To go around.

So no one reciprocates.

They don’t see a whole person.

So I don’t either.

Maybe there’s more math to this than I think.

Good thing I’m studying.

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