those who commit suicide destroy the world that is provable to them

part of me is basically continually, anxiously running a systems diagnostic on myself, unsure of the findings.

doodooododoododododdoodododododoo ( Read more... )

always the question, "what's my motivation?" i get home, i'm unmotivated. sleep calls out to me like a siren song. it feels so good, you know it does. it's so easy, just do it. give in ( Read more... )

i shouldn't be at this job anymore. i just demonstrably don't give a fuck. waking up early is for birds that like worms. every instinct in me leads to bartleby the scrivener.

as dreams don't make much sense and drift within themselves ( Read more... )

it's my own fault, but it's sad to get a text on your pre-paid phone where you watch the credits like a miser and then instead of being a friend it's a spam. maybe a problem with my life is that i'm meh and i'm hoping for something really good and all i get is meh. what could i do? always wondering, not doing. i'm spending too much money and ( Read more... )

frustrated with work. might leave at the end of the year. just don't have the motivation to continue. started watching the 1949 version of little women on tcm and there was a scene where jo goes into the wealthy invalid guy's house and marvels at its luxuriousness, but to him it's just a room because he's used to it and doesn't care. that's my ( Read more... )

tired. trying to turn it into something. oh the glory of a nap when i get home from work. may go into another room and slap my face and see if that helps.

rarely have i ever been anywhere better or worse than my dreams. i could sleep forever. what life could compare?