drafted grocery list.

 

- it always matters the most when it does not matter anymore.

- it breaks some sort of self love clause when i admit that i hate the past versions of myself. i have been vain, cruel, selfish, dismissive, opportunistic, manipulative and distant. there is no revelation that comes along which makes me forgive. i do not forgive. i disconnect, as if i can. my guilt keeps me up at night. maybe the day i love it, it will look away.

- when people joke about losing my father they do not realise that i have touched his bare skull. dug through the mud reaching into death to bring back something. to hold. to keep. to discover that the horizon between life and death is strict. all of it in imagined privacy. they do not know i wish the death of their parents. 

- you only live once // you only love once. the singular sense of a lifetime feels restrictive. i once had everything. now not even the ground beneath my feet is mine.

- i take off my glasses on car rides for an ignorant perspective. for a fool's joy. i know too much. i see too much. this is my monkey's paw, for when i was a child i had asked for knowledge whole. 

i cannot eat anymore.

- today i have cut myself into more pieces than i know exist. survival is bleak. it is sadistic of pain to be invisible. i see too much, yet i do not see enough. the mutations in me are not kind. but at least they are not you. 

- the closest thing to my experience growing into myself is interstellar. i was the little kid angry at her dad. and now i'm behind the bookshelf. it is lonely in these dimensions with no one to get angry at. so sometimes i scream at what i see through the shelves. sometimes i scream at myself.

- these few days have had me wishing death on people. 

- growing up can be reduced to a series of understandings that the wrongs taught to you were wrong and the rights taught to you were right and morality has been poked and prodded and stretched and interpreted in such constant violence that it is impossible to remember what was.

- it does not get better. not here at least.

- embrace tradition, when choosing from modernity. change is an everyday affair. 

- sometimes i sleep with my makeup on because that is the only act of hatred i can practice. i am eating away at myself faster than this city can. hopefully faster than you can.

- i am bored of death and rot. even the goodness feels chemical.

- i hate the way i write. i hate the righteousness wrapped around every syllable. i hate the way i am almost never right. i never write right.

- humility. why does everyone discard humility ? it is expensive to discard humility. the rich either discard it or wear it around their neck like animal skin. humility. pity. ignorance. the rich do not leave home without their jewels.

- the computer is made of flesh and blood and it logs all my hallucinations and uploads them for datalog. this mad man man made contortion is still much kinder.

- i think about the war victims around the world to feel gratitude. my friends think of me and feel gratitude. who do the war victims think of ?

- these constant nightmares. someone said when a person dies you get to know everything about them. and this unburdened chest of secrets does not care whether you wish to know, whether the dignity dissolves in knowing. you simply must know. and then you must live on.

- correction, there are no musts to this game. especially the part where you must live on.

- to protect something, it to eventually lose it. this achilles heel is what kills you.

- never will i leave you. never will i forsake you. and the sun never lets me out of his sight.

- it is excruciating to meet your heroes. never meet your heroes. all my heroes are flawed from their source. all my heroes become ugly and distorted when the distance closes down.

- it is closing time and everyone is packing up to leave. so much has left me this year that i am unsure of what to put in my suitcase. leaving does not feel new when i am the last one to leave, with nothing to leave with. i am always leaving with my hands empty.

- when faced with the worst in my life i disconnect from my consciousness like i have practiced all my life. it feels like i have been practising for this very moment. 

- i am a brick house of almosts. and i have nothing to show for it. and maybe i get to despise myself because there is no one left to despise. there's only so much sadness that can give out art and there's only so much art. the rest is vomit. the rest is rot. it is foolish to call it anything else but that.

i am still measuring how much rot i can take. there's always a rockier bottom underneath.

- too many i sentences, people have told me. i have been told so much i forget where it starts now. i remember once i was told of my disobedience and my misbehavior. i never misbehaved since. i was always a very obedient child.

- it takes a lot of practice and endurance to perform a self lobotomy, or even to segregate your brain into sections to make it useful. i have always believed that rearrangement and reassigning can make use of something that has not had favorable conditions to naturally procure the same. i do that. it is necessary for survival. but over time it feels like i have housed and killed off so many of what i have created within myself. 

i am made of multitudes of my own making.

- all the people i lose enter my head. i am counting down the days till i go mad. or i no longer have space for myself in my mind. there is still a long way to go. i have much to do till then. this is my fate, and i will carry this out until death.

- being kind when scared of consequence is not kindness. 

- when i lose hope i go back to the first person who ever truly apologized to me. it's been so long his face looks blurry now. instead i keep apologizing to myself.

- there is a point of tolerance which when you cross, you break. i cannot see morality now, i am far from the shore and talking about the rights and wrongs of my circumstances is now funny. i have lost my own lifeboat. here i am drowning everything else to keep myself from sinking. the world that keeps on taking and i have always been the gift that keeps on giving. i sit on my boat and pay off the years of debt everyone before me has left unpaid. 

- it is difficult to live as i am without severance. in an ideal world i would get my consciousness medically severed into two. in this world, i do what i can. repeatedly segregating the sentimental anxiety associated to reason. 

- i am leaving the city in three weeks and all my bridges are on fire. this is not new. this happens every time i leave a sphere. god never wants me to find my way back home. ultimately, if nothing lost, my will to hold together is. it boils down to how much i am willing to take to save something that is already dead. how much i will do to ornate my guilt. london bridge is falling down.

- i go back to interstellar. because it all goes back to that scene where the dad is leaving. and the books fall. and the dad has no idea. it comes back when he's behind that shelf. seeing himself from a different dimension. right now i'm behind that bookshelf and i can yell and scream and kick. but the version of me on the other side can't hear me.

a realization of that finality kills me every time.

maybe that's what i'm afraid of. finality.

not death, but finality.

because everything ends. and it is always in its most sickening way that it does. 

[redacted]