It's almost been a month since the last time I wrote anything meaningful, or coherent. The world could certainly do without me but at this moment in time I feel that I should give words to the unending accumulation of shit on the internet.
For a long time I have entertained the notion that there may be something wrong with my brain besides the obvious that you no doubt have noticed after reading a few of these posts. I've started to become a bit of a hypochondriac and now realize that this is not the way I should be thinking. The odds are in favor that there is something amiss with my mental physiology but worrying would not be productive at all. So I shall worry.
And I really cannot control it, doing things that are counter-productive. I crave my own destruction and my auto pilot has a death wish. There are beautiful things out there to sense and experience and I find comfort in sitting in the closet rocking back and forth clicking my tongue. I have a dangerous comfort zone. It is as cold and dead as the universe will one day be. Time will pass and I will have missed my chance and I know this, I know I'm wasting, but I have come to the realization after many years of trying that I am incapable of triggering the change I need for myself. It is the most monumentally devastating of my shortcomings and I haven't been able to do anything about it so far.
I'm throwing what little I've got left away because I cannot shake the mentality that I deserve it and more.
It's all true. I need to go now.
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