(no subject)
the longer this... all of this goes on, the less certain I am that I know who I am. What am I? what are my needs, beyond need? is it quantifiable what I even want, beyond simply the desire to want? I want to need and I need to want. such rubbish. all of it useless, just a prison I'm dedicated to wearing threadbare. how do I navigate living when my own life is alien? how did I get here and how do I leave? where am I going? what? what what what what what what am I doing? it's all such a mish mash I'm losing my cohesion. my state of mind has no resilience. my point of view is perforated, full of errors and strangely permutable. I need adhesive. the drink binds me yet leaves me drifting in the wilderness of my own black head too often. it's all so strange. I'm so indefensible. but I still miss you. that's in my heart, not my head. more trustworthy.