Play It (Indeed)

I don’t know what to say. How do I redeem myself. These people that haunt me, do they do so for a reason? Something I can fix, perhaps?

Who knows. They won’t say even if I do ask. Because it’s not real, I’m crazy, what are you talking about, varjak.

Game design, web design, poetry. Every day.

Exercise. Light weights and walking. Would love to be a jogger.

Want to make my own games. I don’t like what’s out there + there’s nothing I like. I have ideas for good shit. A party game like the multiplayer stuff in Bomberman 64, resurrect that genre of fun. There was so much gold in the past. Or is it just as good now and my condition has anhedonia in me?

Bought Flower. Audio doesn’t work. Also controls are dull. WTF.

I have a huge library on my Steam account. Haven’t played a tenth of them. Well. Well? WELL!?

What to say to make you love me again. My other half. My audience. The people in my mind, the anonymous other that listens to what I have to say, that is always there. A writers curse and blessing. The norm. The social status.

Where did it all go…

*sad jazz plays*

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