(no subject)
I can't think of anything to type.
That is a lie.
I cannot think of anything I will allow myself to type.
Better.
White is so stark and unforgiving. I think I would prefer to be shrouded in eternal darkness than trapped in outstretching white.
At least in the darkness you can imagine something is out there. Even if you know there really isn't.
I like that feeling of waking up. Right before the brain powers on, when all you can think about is the tactile sensation of your bed and your pillows. Maybe the breeze from the window.
Punching walls is stupid right?
So they say.
They do.
Who.
Oh them.
Ok.
You are dialoguing again.
Yeah.
You seem unusually content with that.
Yeah.
I am growing tired of your one-word responses.
Yeah.
Smartass.
Now who is responding with one word?
Shut up.
See this is why nobody likes you. No sense of humor.
Awwww and what are you? The sad clown?
I hate that painting. Eat a dick.
That was real mature.
At least I am cracking a grin now.
Oh.
I was supposed to help Josh quest. I also have to iron my suit for the wedding tomorrow.
You arent going to though.
No. I'm not.
You are going to go to sleep.
Yeah I am.
But you are not tired.
Nope.
Your birthday is coming up.
I don't give a flying fuck.
I know you don't.
I fucking hate my birthday.
I know.
Then don't fucking bring it up!
Sorry. Jesus. Calm down.
Whatever.
I want to punch my hand through the monitor.
There are a multitude of things wrong with that.
You are going to do the a-b-c thing you do when you are in your point-proving mode huh?
Yeah.
Fuck.
A) You need the monitor for your computer
B) You will break and lacerate your hand (I know you think that's a bonus but you wont when you get the doctor's bill)
C) You might electrocute yourself.
D) You would not be able to keep typing.
Are you done?
I think so.
Good.
I think it's pretty amusing how when you don't want to talk about something you type out your inner conversations. Pretty amusing in that totally nuts way.
I make no reservations. Look at my info.
I don't need to, I am part of your head.
Oh yeah.
You purposely make it confusing to follow the narrative too.
I do.
It would make you feel better to just say the stuff.
Possibly in the short term.
And in the long?
I don't know. But I can't control the long term, and since I don't know, I don't care to test the waters of my control.
This post is getting quite long.
Yeah.
You want to stop typing yet?
I'm getting there.
I really like cherries.
Me too.
You should go eat some. Might cheer you up.
No I'm not that hungry and not in the mood right now. Maybe later.
Just a thought.
*sigh*
Yeah I know. But you can't do that.
I know.
Ok. Then stop thinking about it.
Ok.
...
It's not working.
That is a lie.
I cannot think of anything I will allow myself to type.
Better.
White is so stark and unforgiving. I think I would prefer to be shrouded in eternal darkness than trapped in outstretching white.
At least in the darkness you can imagine something is out there. Even if you know there really isn't.
I like that feeling of waking up. Right before the brain powers on, when all you can think about is the tactile sensation of your bed and your pillows. Maybe the breeze from the window.
Punching walls is stupid right?
So they say.
They do.
Who.
Oh them.
Ok.
You are dialoguing again.
Yeah.
You seem unusually content with that.
Yeah.
I am growing tired of your one-word responses.
Yeah.
Smartass.
Now who is responding with one word?
Shut up.
See this is why nobody likes you. No sense of humor.
Awwww and what are you? The sad clown?
I hate that painting. Eat a dick.
That was real mature.
At least I am cracking a grin now.
Oh.
I was supposed to help Josh quest. I also have to iron my suit for the wedding tomorrow.
You arent going to though.
No. I'm not.
You are going to go to sleep.
Yeah I am.
But you are not tired.
Nope.
Your birthday is coming up.
I don't give a flying fuck.
I know you don't.
I fucking hate my birthday.
I know.
Then don't fucking bring it up!
Sorry. Jesus. Calm down.
Whatever.
I want to punch my hand through the monitor.
There are a multitude of things wrong with that.
You are going to do the a-b-c thing you do when you are in your point-proving mode huh?
Yeah.
Fuck.
A) You need the monitor for your computer
B) You will break and lacerate your hand (I know you think that's a bonus but you wont when you get the doctor's bill)
C) You might electrocute yourself.
D) You would not be able to keep typing.
Are you done?
I think so.
Good.
I think it's pretty amusing how when you don't want to talk about something you type out your inner conversations. Pretty amusing in that totally nuts way.
I make no reservations. Look at my info.
I don't need to, I am part of your head.
Oh yeah.
You purposely make it confusing to follow the narrative too.
I do.
It would make you feel better to just say the stuff.
Possibly in the short term.
And in the long?
I don't know. But I can't control the long term, and since I don't know, I don't care to test the waters of my control.
This post is getting quite long.
Yeah.
You want to stop typing yet?
I'm getting there.
I really like cherries.
Me too.
You should go eat some. Might cheer you up.
No I'm not that hungry and not in the mood right now. Maybe later.
Just a thought.
*sigh*
Yeah I know. But you can't do that.
I know.
Ok. Then stop thinking about it.
Ok.
...
It's not working.