-complete and utter hatred and fury for every sensation in my body
-jealousy for those who can move on from one year to the next with such ease that it looks like dancing, meanwhile i am left bitterly weeping on the grave on something which hasnt even died
-irratability increased by the children's screams, they are happy, but it pierces my ears and straight into my mind and strikes the very core of my external calm. internal calm long having been shattered i have only a mask of it which i attempt to trick myself and others of my own peace
their thudding footsteps joyfully running through their childhood. my selfishness tells me they are somehow responsible for my own lack of joy in my childhood. which in turn immediantly breeds self hatred for that ugly thought
a gross sense of satisfaction and relief from getting the ugly thoughts and emotions out of my head and onto a page. somehow even ith the backpain, too tight shirt and headache, having written these thoughts i feel almost as well as i do after a short walk
-a shortness of breath from the uncertainty that comes from thinking of my recent premonition that my beloved friend group is soon to split and both sides reject me. internally i have already acceptted this but if when they do my heart shall break and i will again isolate myself from humanity1
-fury from the grotesque bright green which presently as of my writing adorns this cave dedicated to my own mind
-I HIT MY HEAD WITH MY FIST AND GET A TINY AMOUNT OF RELIEF FROM THE THOUGHTS. IT SEEMINGLY DISLODGES THE THOUGHTS FROM MY BRAIN FOLDS AND LETS ME breath
-i remember a dream i had this week , at an old friends house and she was not there. but still a soft warm place to rest
-what i want is seemlingly so simple. i have learned (i thought) enough coding to easily have two fonts, but no
with any luck this will end up being purely hasty words written in anger↩