fuck

 i have so much to say fuck ufck fukc ufkc 

read some stuff and at teh end of the reading of said stuff i put on hannah sun. present tense.

gotta get em out

gotta get out

gotta get

gotta give

fuckk

I read old blogs

one man wrote vitriol as his reason-to-be

he received gobs of hatemail, good stuff. 

he let himself go on there, over and over, hating everything

hate set his fingers free and i wish it would happen to me

do no harm 

how can i do no harm if my words have power, if my feelings have force

if the right thing flung from fingers once cautious of their futile ineffectuality can make me feel like this, what could the wrong thing do? probably absolutely nothing. 

i have ideas, i tell myself, ideas, so many of them! I hear my mom, for she said the same thing to me just a few days ago. She was sitting on the cushion of the breakfast nook with the lip of her head held in her hands, her hair spouting over her fingers and down, covering her face, her eyes open and down, not really looking at the table, looking at the table. But I have so many ideas, she probably said.

i want to stop feeling like this. stop feeling soggy, logged, slogged. im mkaing the same face as my mom, in my head. I'm tired of not doing, tired of doing not doing, of being doing, tired of not being a doer. i'm tired of disappointing myself. I'm tired of taking distraction one day at a time, of taking direction one day. of putting sentences together to make myself feel better, with little effect other than a renewed disappointment in the endless connive for dopamine. i really feel myself to be pathetic, in this time of night. 

--it's 2:17am. I have very little going for me. I have so much going for me I wish it never happened, wish I was still living the lie life, the lie that I deserved at the time, the lowlife loser who lost in fortnite again. At least then my desperate rerouting of lifeforce into the ocean (through the sewers, of course) would at least not be in vain. --I'm a terrible human being, a waste of time, a life that hasn't occured enough to even scorn. --I'm another fool trapped between glass panes--, watching the world with a bottle of windex and tissues.--

Okay.... goodnight. there's so much love that i'm simply unable to express because the lack must be listened to first.