the only thing I can tell you is remain humble. don’t be so pretentious. there will always be people above and below you. stay humble.
I guess I’ve returned to a mantra of understanding.
looking back on a lot of writing I did. a lot of it is really sappy and embarrassing, but I won’t delete it. from the beginning I set out to write truthfully, or as truthfully as I’d allow myself to be consciously. I read the old writings when I started this relationship, and I cringe at the pure sap. I don’t regret feeling the way I did, in fact I’d like to think I feel stronger now, just not as vocal. I’d like to think that I’ve crossed a threshold of acting rather than speaking.
I haven’t posted in a while. I’ve nothing to write on as I’ve done nothing since the break started. I’ve spent a lot of time dissolving in this room.
Having perfected our disguise, we spend our lives searching for someone we don’t fool.
to always look forward, to accept change and adjust one’s course - this is the way I’ve decided to live, but it’s rather disappointing for the time. I know where I want to be, I know the feeling associated, in fact, I know the means to arrive there, but it doesn’t correlate with the feeling. where does one adjust their course when they don’t even know where they want to arrive. in which direction does one move in order to move forward. all existential drivel that need not be read. nothing but the average anxieties of another average person.
I wish I could write fiction. I work in analytical writing, conceptual writing. creative writing is difficult, for the reason that I don’t think it’s great.
I’ve had the thought to write on a nightmare I had recently. I think of it all the time. it was surreal, it was hell. I couldn’t run from it and so I think of it a lot. I feel sane enough to rationalize it, and therefore the fear is subsided, although, it was such a visceral experience that I recall it almost fondly.
I don’t receive the calm of narcotics. I find that I get so caught up in thoughts that I usually get disoriented, all while sober, thus, under the influence it’s extremely heightened.
I feel paranoia settle in. I make nightmarish connections and correlations to details, formulating existential conundrums, eventually leading to crisis. the fear is almost lovecraftian.