worst. entry. ever.
nothing i do here is what i'm supposedly here to do. i'm wasting time in more ways than i can count, convincing myself that i'm not smart enough to think things through because the logical truth i come up with is in such opposition to what i want to hear. sports are kidding me with the semblance of activity and the chemical rush of exhiliration. text twist is kidding me with mental aerobics. books are kidding me with their informative allure, so much easier to learn when it's not required of you. we're kidding each other in such serious heartfelt ways that a simple descriptive assessment gets quieter and quieter even as it matters more and more. i'm kidding myself into thinking that playing cello is worthwhile when all i can ever do is play through things to prove i can still make a sound, and learning a new piece seems insurmountably difficult. you never ever get a do-over.
insert literary dilution/clarification of reality here. maybe with new characters plot and setting and any other fruits of the limitless human imagination. but still with the terror (SLASH CONSCIOUSLY SELF-INDUCED EMOTION) that underlies each word, typed carelessly from trembling fingers. (no really i might insert this in the near future). i'm such an understated mess.
insert literary dilution/clarification of reality here. maybe with new characters plot and setting and any other fruits of the limitless human imagination. but still with the terror (SLASH CONSCIOUSLY SELF-INDUCED EMOTION) that underlies each word, typed carelessly from trembling fingers. (no really i might insert this in the near future). i'm such an understated mess.