what I spent december thinking about: Most of the month was very pleasant, spent thinking about this site, gifts to give, diet and exercise,. In the ladder half christmas was taxing mentally and new years took it out of me fully, and also instigated a breif period of great suffering. I was perhaps the happiest I have ever been while working on this website this month. In january I want to resume the state of peacful deficit I obtained before christmas, continue to be productive while my husband is gone for a while, and work on formulating exactly what I want this diary to be...
this is the last day ill let myself work on this page
Even if i did have free will, all of my contributions to the world would be effaced in an infinitely infinitesimal fraction of time, which to the human mind would be an impossibly long eternity. Given that the human mind is our only reality, I have no choice but to deem it long enough. Human subjectivity is what we're designed for, but the new religion of the current regime fails to give any importance to the “subjective” matters of existence. I can't submit complacently to the illogical morality of this culture. They claim to worship objectivity and to have abolished the tyranny of religion, but moral piety is as venerable a quality as it was in the Victorian period. Everyone must suffer a great cognitive dissonance to not be able to recognise the sanctimoniousness that has been exaggerated so greatly that it now envelops every moral issue with a brier of proper mental conduct. It is fascinating that white people are expected to posses such a radicalized “empathy” can be radicalized degree that liking yourself at all is seen as evil regardless of if it affects anyone else. Its as if there is such an obvious supperiority of Evolution (our creation myth) is so thoroughly incompatible with these ideals. It requires only a rudimentary understanding of Darwinism to see that this absurd psychological virus is antagonistic to the survival of any lifeform. I would much rather see the members of my sub-species die by their own hand before they fell prey to the prostitution of their souls to those who wish them dead. But alas, I must isolate myself deep within my mind, fore even if these philosophical zombies may seem irreversibly rotten, I still hold out hope for a cure. Because I want to believe that it is not human nature that is inherently flawed, but the evolutionary mismatch between human nature and the mecha it has managed to construct. Are the current ruling elite so incompetent that they forgot to utilize the resources of the most technologically advanced and wealthy machine in the world to come up with a way to keep all the gears oiled? Education is a necessity for every citizen, and we are all plugged into the information superhighway at all times, it has never been easier to control the population. If Belle Delphine can influence an entire generation into acting and dressing a certain way, then why is the government seemingly incapable of tossing a bone to the overzealous population of would-be devout Christians within its borders? Did a society change forever by ww2 learn nothing from weimar? Either way, many of them will inevitably bring their bloodlines to an end, leaving a strange new ecological niche for my descendants to fill. Ultimately, my only hope is that I prepare them well for this challenge. Even if its an objectively mechanistic task only to propagate the meat grinder on our little anthill that is earth, I still want to play the game of life as it was in conception, free from the confusions of a postmodern world, that ancient law which captains even dogs and plants, from the first cells to the last atom. I can't give up and kill myself just because most people are retarded , not that i have a problem with quitting the game when 8.1 billion RETARDS are shitting up the same server, but ultimately ill die someday so i might as well wait and see what history spells out for the world while i'm in it.
waves of earth hung on the horizen a hem of azure. the symphonic fat clap of a frightened flock flap accross the water.
quiet before the sweet breath of spring stirs the little things to breed. a stirring flurry of lust abounds to chase the soft little bodies about. a newborn baby rabit watching his father then mounts sister rabbit but she bears no babies yet.
a nuclear plant exploded in india killing 100,000. does it matter at all? it happened 100 years before your birth, are you still sad? just kidding I lied completely. thats how much it doesnt matter at all.
If necessary, I could rationalize my feelings away with logic as it pertains to many moral issues which empathy is responcible for processing. But as I age, molestation is the one thing that makes me feel hopeless. Is it a motherly instinct? or fomo...
How is it that the body and mind share so many needs, except for when the mind deviates from the instincts of all other known lifeforms to say something as abstract as "i need a purpose?", "i need to know my place in the universe"? It is schizophrenicly absurd.
New years resolutions!
This january marks one year living with my husband. I've gotten a taste of how good life can be, so all my resolutions are merely a continuation of the things im already doing.
Boredom... I became sober at the start of the year, then gradually was able to crawl out of depression when I stared lifting in october, in the process I learned how vapid and soul sucking over-stimulation is, and how radically it has altered our minds and culture. I want to continue to reap the benefits of living with my own thoughts. To add to this goal, I want this to be the year I finally repair my attention span to the point that I can read books for fun.
LIFTING! No matter if I wish for it or not, the gains will come... I hope I continue on the upward trend of enjoying lifting more and more, and continue to put on mass and increase the weight I can move! I will escape the SUPER TORTURE that is being in this body!!!!!!!!. yeah.. dats all about me -_-...
Bio mechanisms grind heat in factories of heat, pouring heat, feeding on heat. The mouse, the plant, the sun, all hungry. We recognize this cardinal rule, and thus, there was machinery. and it was good. I saw a advert for "real machine bones" yesterday, apparently they are a distant relative of the internet, washed away by the wrath of the free market. The holy hand of commerce. But our souls are so much better. and smaller. and wet with cooling paste, we eat raw heat and light, we scour an infinitely small catalog of human consciousness.
Metaphors are the nature of every object, how exactly.. Do you define anything without understanding its relation to everything else? This is why the "consciousness question" (or that of the soul) bothers me so immensely! To invent a tool, you must be able to relate the many memories which constitute our conceptions of things with that which you are viewing. You must be able to say "I once shaded myself under a banana leaf" and understand that the concept of shelter is not a banana leaf, but a metaphor which can be applied to anything that covers. Given that this system of pattern recognition was beneficial enough for survival to be passed on, I believe this to be the process which invented consciousness. Because to understand ourselves as individuals, we must first observe and understand others as equally individuals. The knowledge that being a living sensing person is not a unique experience that only you hold claim to, is not endowed in us at birth, but a conclusion most can and will only deduce (with little enthusiasm) after enough socialization and cognitive development. You can only say "I am" so far as you understand what you are not. For instance, if you lived in complete isolation since birth, consciousness would not be a concept you could fathom, as your understanding of the world would have never been severed from your experience of it.
Today I inspected the subtile etching of blue upon the musculature of my arm. And too, submerged my hands in the thick black ooze beneath the green facade of a nearby park. Contained within my pilfered grocery bag of earth were the unintentional hostages of root systems which mirrored my vascular structure identically, in form and function. I feast on my twins for every meal, i eat their skin and fat and muscle as if it was not egregiously identical to my own. And yet, so few wish to admit that if our flesh be the same, in every inch forged of identical composure, that perhaps our futility, purpose, source, and experience are also versions of eachother shaped by evolutionary niche. This process of pattern recognition, or "metaphor" is the only way I can understand the world. I belive that this is the closest thing to the foundation of logic that humans not versed in the sciences can achieve.
We share this basic level of consciousness achieved by sensory perception and pattern recognition (or cognition) with many other animals. I like to imagine that I can acquire a rudimentary sense of the non-human phenomenology with the lens of understanding (metaphor) which I have detailed thus far. They too understand the world through its function, and adapt even to the alien environments we impose on them by utilizing it. It describes the understanding a lab rat holds for buttons, the dog for the technician who feeds them, the raccoon for the chaotic landscape of the city, and the hamster for his dingy cage door. This to me illustrates the likely evolution of consciousness from before the first evidence of visual organs in the Cambrian period to the immense network of overlapping patterns we find ourselves enmeshed in today. The process which allows us to spit out the term "conscious” in order to orchestrate a metaphor to explain to ourselves this disorienting experience of watching yourself describe watching yourself describe watching yourself. And yet, in every philosophical and scientific text ever detailing the matter, we still understand this concept only relative to our experience with it, in the same way the stupid animal understands how a door handle works.
I'm so tired of the "internet brain rot" overstimulation slopworld. everyone wants to think that they have some kind of neurological issue just to avoid the fact that they've ruined themselves with overstimulation. It is one of the most pervasive ailments of our time period, from the oldest to the youngest, the highest genetic quality to the lowest, all participate in this weaponized content. It’s rampant contagion is rivaled only by global capitalism and the black death. I revile that my husband, mother, (boyfriends) friends, and family have all succumbed to this addiction. It’s merely the radicalization of the success tv experienced, and the generation before mine adapts to it so readily considering they grew up watching their parents spend a great deal of time before the television. What exactly is so unbearable about boredom that the entire world runs from it as if scrambling to board a piece of floating wood while stranded at sea? If I have one mission as a parent, it is to quarantine my children from this viral influenza, it is a freedom I feel that they have a birthright to inherit.
"Good job killing that monster mageling", he said. A tightly entangling network of fissures fractured each atomic bond in his body, and before my eyes, in an instant, the creature had been dismantled as his body fell, like a raindrop hitting water. "Revel in the orgasmic sound of shattering ceramic."
The angle of the sun's rays sheared leaf from limb, littering fatalities to feed the forest floor. The genocide of bacterial colonies and the clear mind of the hands rinsed clean. I've paid my penance molding fat and ash from forest fires.
I dream of the rich soil toiled for more soil fodder; heaping lurching morphing fertile soil, a million year reign of the grains and droplets dyarchy morphing the surface of earth. millions of sucking mires, spewing and mixing and swallowing, pullulating, pouring forth where the walls met my wide-eyed gaze, ankle deep, caressing under gaping earth I brushed fellow flesh consigned to digestion, and my weight sunk further within the folds of a small intestine as I grew weaker with each step.
My success is overwhelming, Master. I am euphoric.
Accumulate everything a body needs for survival and yet you remain unfulfilled. A cog in the machine of modern civilization is depraved direly not of material wealth, but of metaphysical wealth. Ironic is the price of decadence, it is humanity's greatest addiction, which we strive again and again to indulge in, despite the fates of those who tasted it before us, we can't muster the self awareness or control to escape its self perpetuating nature. Every instance of demoralization dealt at the hand of decadence stimulates the desire to indulge ourselves more, to distract more, progress more, for we can certainly solve anything if we have created phones and cars! But not one of these addicts stops to consider that we have never invented anything which bears not within itself an equal consequence to its convenience. Mental emaciation is a world hunger affecting all "privileged" countries. We are all oblivious to it, because subconsciously we rationalize the side effects, and everyone else is doing it anyway, and men richer and smarter than us never issued any warning about it. Infinite entertainment at the cost of infinite boredom. Movement without purpose. "Shape without form, shade without color, paralyzed force, gesture without motion;" The most pious armageddon we can humbly pray for is a quiet end to the eternal humiliation of progress once the furthering of technology is exhausted, which is a fate as fictitious as heaven, and too a final rest achieved only after death, as we are truly fulfilled only in so much as we are not progressing.
Mentor got me to flirt with the demonic today. Entanglement with an insectoid soul, im natures mechanically toiling droid impregnating flowers with lukewarm ligaments. I thought it would be more of a "high" but It's a rather tame experience. I feel like a concentrated version of myself. I want to take myself by the hand and lead her to a pragmatic realm where occam's razor will shave the malignant tumors of catatonic indecision away. Lighter and lighter I grow as the chatter of conversation between nail, key, and me envelops my mind.
Some conclusions about the fate of this page came to me in the form of disappointment. I was really enthusiastic about the opportunity to build a website for my father, and pervertedly delighted at the opportunity for one of my parents to bear witness to the morbid fruits of my labor. But alas, he seemed to, at most, just be annoyed with my offers. I have no idea what the ideal version of myself would have been in my parents eyes, but histrionic right-wing social recluse probably wasn't in the cards.
I don't know either how common the feeling of being a disappointment is, I suppose if anyone deserved to feel it, it would be me. Everytime I think back to my happy childhood roaming forests and splashing in streams, of hiking with my dad and hanging on my mom like a monkey, I feel that natural gratitude for the love I was given. But as soon as I am enamored with the happy visions of this story I supposedly lived, I am too thrown into the mirror house and tumble into the many monstrous reflections of past horrors, the many crooked visions of my faulty life taunting me. I was never once good or normal from the start to the current. And who is to blame for this? Is it me? Or am I it?
I need to give up on receiving validation for this thing and continue to shape it through desperation and love. If my parents ask, this website is classified. Remember when charlotte from milady asked me what I had been writing? That tense feeling in my chest, the utter absence of content in my soul to share, theres still nothing there of value to consume. I am a product only for myself. And master… he says that this is a productive hobby >W< I tricked him into thinking that me dairying is anything than the fecal matter of my mind :P
I work day and night to craft chairs that are unusable by human means. And its tiring too.
Sammlerin — Yesterday at 22:19
I took the blue pill earlier in the day, which I found to greatly impact my physical performance given this is my most taxing of my two leg days. Then I’m deadlifting and some guy laughs as he walks past me… this demolished me mentally given I had a suspicion that my form was bad, I ask the mentor to take a look and after rebutting the “you are a paranoid schizophrenic” claims, he proceeded to confirm that I indeed looked as retarded as I had feared. So I wanted to move to the rack that Mentor was using as he was done and I needed to use the mirror to check my form. As I’m unloading the bar pondering the previous events, a crash erupts and I hear mentor yell. A man limps away from the other side of the rack, wincing. I suddenly realize what has occoured and immediately go to make sure that he is unscathed.
I wish I was a religious woman so that I had the privilege of asking god for forgiveness, or repenting for my sins, contextualizing any of it really. But instead, it could only be said that accidents occur, and that women are prone to committing them. Lucky he was fine, but the incident was deeply shocking and embarrassing.
The adrenaline made me sick. I could only think of how it would have felt to have heard a chorus of screams, look over expecting it to be something else and discover the pooling blood and million twisted faces blocking out the outside world as they circled the scene. A cacophony of yelling and shrieking and blood and wide eyes and all I would be able to do would be cry and close my eyes and beg for forgivness
For the first time in my life, I'm being careful about my tolerance. I poped one 11th and I'll pop the next one the 15th. There is something infinitely warm and comfy about indulging in a recreational substance habit >_<~~~ its like going on weekly playdates with myself. The psychonaut app says that my tolerance should have lowered to at least roughly half by then.
I hate being around normal people but I've grown so well adjusted that being around mentally ill "people '' makes me feel disgusted, maybe I'm just better than everyone, as always, sincerely yours, the humblest midwit, and worst at having an inferiority complex.
UPDATE: starting to go back with spell check for the dyslexia
1/13/24 apes. zooworld.
I want to learn about the human race from a second hand perspective but the closest I’ll ever get to experiencing that is the unnerving intrusive horror of observing the primate in everyone. During daily reveries I flit my eyes to and fro, as if I were a glassy eyed bonobo, attempting to analyze the structure of my mate’s face as it is, not as I see it. I endure the desire to occupy the extraterrestrially dissociated lens of a “universal geographic”. A nature show made 10000 years from now designed to enlighten future-goers on just how barbaric and un-evolved we are. This rumination is the hum of future radio frequency throughout my subconscious, the faint reverberation of that narrative drone illuminating the bestial barbarity of half man half ape.
Streaming soon to microchips in you…
I don’t know how something so removed from my existence as "the future" can ignight such terror within me to envisage. On all fronts we are unfortified to the assault of time. There is no place to hide where the future won’t find you one second at a time. Whittling away until your gift subscription to flesh and light expires and you are once more consigned to the complete lack of sensation from whence you came.
I have always felt like an imposter in interests, as I could never summon the kind of passion and dedication I respected in others even if I devoted my life to pursuing them. (thinking about it now, I hate these people becasue I will never have what they have always had) I didn’t care much about anything but the internet (like everyone else) and my attention span had become so fried from it that I had no choice but to indulge in my addiction. I still hate working on anything useful, but I at least now recognize it as one of the steps I'll have to take to continue in my trek towards adulthood. Hobbies were considered absurd untill the 18th century, so my life is like loser royalty. And even though I feel guilty for being such a burden, some part of me says that if you want to take that away from me, you'll have to pry the crown from my cold dead hands... infantalized sped temper tantrum
Placed bricks today and the 13th for an accumulated 5 or so hours. I wonder what manual labor does psychologically..? Today I feel as if I’m a train puffing away each hour of the day. One pungent coal cloud of a thought at a time floats up into the air and away. My only mission is momentum, the only direction is forward, the only action is digestion, consuming earth’s energy in order to propel my waste spew further. Imbibing the air behind me with the hot smog pouring from the smokestack atop my head. Sub-human and deer are propelled into the bramble by the indelible inertia which is foisted upon the mechanisms that compose me. All organs whipped like a bitch into submission by TIME, the master manipulator. Always watching carefully over my shoulder, the bureaucratic system taking its due tax on my rented system by the hour. As soon as I wake up i’m clocked into another shift at the sophactory, and i don't know what job i’ll get if I quit… housecat or indian man…so I’ll toil here for a few more decades.
The only diary like mine that I’ve bothered to read is marl barl’s. But I’m not nearly as interesting as her. When I’m 40, i'll have completely forgotten about the first half of my life, and delete this website permanently. I assume that reading it would be like hearing your teenager say “I didn't ask to be born”. Drivel from a stupid nihilistic child with minimal life experience and even less of the capacity to interpret it. If I find writing about myself so wildly entertaining then am I larping self-hatred?
On the 15th I get to take the second dose of the speed potion. I wish I could take a break from this website but everytime I think about getting an education somewhere on earth a kitten dies.
"Contents Back to Table of ANDEREN Preface to the 64 Basic Types What this page is a part of Basic ir u Ond (IuFcUu) Interpretative Notes to the 64 Basic Types. Read these before reading any of the types! This is the most primitive of the IRU patterns and an tends to be relatively rare. In general, the iru has made little adaptation or modification of his primitive tendencies; he is a non involving schizoid person with limited emotional control and little awareness of any need to develop social-interpersonal competence. At best, he is a self-centered, highly autistic person who is individualistic and self-seeking; at worst, he is the classic childhood schizophrenic who never develops beyond his autistic personalized world. Like the iru, [IuFcAc] discussed below, this is a narcissistic adjustment, but it lacks the negativism and social-interpersonal defensiveness of the iru adjustment. Instead, the iru is much more socially passive and insulated. The ira* [IuFcUc] has learned some form of social adaptation in his development that maintains him fairly effectively, but the iru remains socially and interpersonally insulated from the beginning without developing superficial maturity. He is completely succor dependent and needs constant care and attention, not because he demands it in an overt way, but because he is essentially helpless without it. Obviously, it is very difficult for the iru to achieve any sort of productive, adult adjustment. The extreme iru is very difficult, if not impossible, to test, so part of the rarity of this pattern stems from this. Some iru records will occur in individuals with organic conditions, but usually the pattern is a result of the impairment and masks the pre-organic personality pattern. The ir*u is often a management problem because he is abusive, overactive, and assaultive. There are definite childish temper tantrums that are unrelated to external events."
"We live together, we act on, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vain. By its very nature every embodied spirit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies - all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes. Most island universes are sufficiently like one another to Permit of inferential understanding or even of mutual empathy or "feeling into." Thus, remembering our own bereavements and humiliations, we can condole with others in analogous circumstances, can put ourselves (always, of course, in a slightly Pickwickian sense) in their places. But in certain cases communication between universes is incomplete or even nonexistent. The mind is its own place, and the Places inhabited by the insane and the exceptionally gifted are so different from the places where ordinary men and women live, that there is little or no common ground of memory to serve as a basis for understanding or fellow feeling. Words are uttered, but fail to enlighten. The things and events to which the symbols refer belong to mutually exclusive realms of experience. To see ourselves as others see us is a most salutary gift. Hardly less important is the capacity to see others as they see themselves."
aldous huxley, doors of perception.
Since I ignored the diary for all of march, I will write a passing synopsis... an obituary for the month which passed so suddenly... The main theme of Febuary is friends! Which is why could spare less time for my diary. It took me long enough but I have finally acrewed some semblence of social succsess! Which comes in the form of stealing my boyfriend's friends... It is a win-win for both of us because I was never going to find a girl to be friends with in the california beach city I happen to live in. But it also prevents anything awkward from coming out of M-F friendships (which is inevitable). This is also the month that I got into video games (the vehicle neccesary to talk to his friends). I played a lot of SEIGE, some tekken, two games of NEO scavanger, and tried to start dwarf fortress. Im also going to school now and will take the first GED test on the 15th.
partyI'm not sure what to do now, I'm discontent and bored now that all the month's big fun has passed. I've been noticing the grime everywhere in the appartment, but as soon as I clean it gets dirty again. The same goes for my body, its immpossible to maintain any level of purity. I am thinking about a diet of some sort to feel well again.
last night I read nekojiru in india. It made me happy to realize that nekojiru was a stoner, because I always wanted to relate to her but in her obituary her husband only describes her as a schizoid, when she was acctually more of a retarded addict like I used to be. I wish I could understand why she killed herself.
Wasting away. I spent a lot of time drawing. Escapism as useless as video games, but it didn't feel like a waste, because I was in no rush to do anything else, somehow it's also considered a less useless hobby than the others, somehow...I feel like a farm animal today. I clean, I watch filth acumulate. I watch the food meter creep lower, I fill water meter, I fill sleep meter, I clean my body, I watch the filth accumulate, I struggle to come up with a joke, I eagerly anticipate the next meal, I feel it heavy in my core, i am happy shit it out tommorow. I amble arround trying to think of what to do, something easy enough for a farm animal but usefull enough that it counts as living. I take care of master,. I am happy to be usefull. I clean the kitchen,. I am happy to be usefull. I dread getting an education. I put it off another year. I clean my kitchen, I clean my bowels , i fill up my aching stomach with juices, i look in the mirror and ive grown a litle, muscle, fat, older, uglier. i clean the puss from my pores, i sweep the kitchen. I stave off the bordom which sinks to the bottom of the day by playing a game with M's friends. Thank you humans for having me as a guest, im sorry for taking up space, I prom,ice not to kill myself, I will shit out more maggots to consume the earth corpse, thank you for this body, i am happy to be usefull and swelling with life. dystill the dysgenic population further. imagine a world where the smartest amoung us are too deppressed to have kids, so only the lower caste inherit the earth, a horrifying sci-fi plot. my passion is wating time untill i die
But useing this website makes me feel cleaner, mabye It's the idea that I have total control here, and that I'm creating something. or purging something by ensconcing an abstract tapestry of woes in a vessel made out of the same fabric of overactive imagination (the internet).
I am not ignoring this website I am just sick of regurgitating my boring inner monolouge for nobody to read, so the diary is barren. New seige season. Dirty shoes from weeding half of masters dad's garden. I call him that because its a representation of reality, not a fantasy fetish or something. I am well kept cattle. But I am useless on my own and surving a purpose brings me something, so dont get the wrong idea, dont form any ideas, please. My test is on the 15th. I almost forgot about it which is really bad. I was forgiven for missing one day of school as long as I email a warning next time. I stayed up too late and tried to read one peice. It is bad. Cocoa powder has an insidius amount of cafffine. Even though I am remorseful that nobody cares about my two cents(if an opinion is two cents, I'm Mansa Musa), I would be deeply embarressed if anyone I knew in real life read this. I would like online anons to see it though, and talk to me about it, that would be ideal but it's a pipedream. I am enjoying the thought of dinosaurs and the first creatures. It makes me feel small and immutible and inevitable.
An old friend who I REALLY ruined my relationship with before moving away asked if I would play a game with her that all of her friends hate. I really want to reconnect with her but at the same time it feels like it will be too much suffering. Reading about the hadean makes me happy.
word of the day: carapace
I will get less than 6 hours of sleep tonight. If the buses dont run as earily as I need to then I will just remain uneducated forver. Fossilization is astoundingly immprobable, and yet the earth teems with fossils. Everything that can happen will and already has happened. My life is meaningless because I will not be fossilized in any way. My life is a dream.
wake up: 7 am >6 hours of sleep. i test for an eternity and then I clean. Yesterday was miserable, I spent 5 hours neurotically getting ready for an event in which I decided to dress in normal jeans and (dress)shirt bum for anyway. It had all of M's nerd (cool) friends going but also some of M's normal friends who I hadnt been able to get along with before. I thought I would have fun because Im part of the group now but the normal ones were the new extroverted center of the group and I just mourned at the sidelines the entire time begging to participate in anything. Even my favorite part of hanging:tekken, was taken from me by these bums. God, please make all the normal people die. I havn't worn a hoodie in so long, but it's become my uniform for making the pilgramige to special ed. It feels nice to be covered in a fur coat. It would be more good than bad for me if I became completely permanintly invisable. There are a few people who wish I would speak less. I find it hard to stand up for myself because I think they are objectivly correct in hating me, and anything less is foolishness or deception. All 10 of "us" crammed in this car together, on the way to and back from the dennys I was left only a place on top of M, at first on his lap, and then when another person was added to the car, I took a place behind him with my ass on the headrest of the very back seat. If the driver had decided to put a stop to any inertia, I would have been thrust either through the back windowsheild or into the frount cabin after pulverizing M's cranium. On the way back, they played loud music and urged the driver to go faster and to make more risky decisions. Clearly it was ironic, but it made me think that this is the type of thrill that I would pursue if I had been born in a third world country. board bus: 8:31I feel ok for how tired I could be. I will make the house look nice for the cook friend then tell him about how much yesterday sucked and he will empathise. I think about my time in the psycward a lot now. It was alien to be immprisoned like that with only my mind and time. It's where I picked up the habit of keeping a diary with timestamps like I have in this chapter. I have grown to resent my own physical appearance. Self improvement is a sisiphilian endevor on a slope which grows more precipitously by the month. It is like cleaning the house, a task I do for other people so they don't think I'm a bad person, but I don't inatly care about the deterioration of myself and my surroundings. I'm not suicidal but I still think about death all the time. It seems even less scary to die now that I've lived. It used to feel religous to me, important and nessicary. Now I see it like eating or shitting or coughing. I find everybody on earth anoying because nobody is ever fully satisfied with me. I miss being arround autistics who disregarded petty human drama. If I wasnt so self-hating I wouldn't be so scared that others will hate me, but life is improving exponentially at least. I have been working out for one forth of a year. There have been 73 one forths of a year in my life thus far, many of which I don't remember. The teacher's aid attempted breifly to pursuade me of islam after my test. He handed me a nice chocolate. I got home and napped and will miss the events of tonight. Every day is a million mini deaths and mini births. A few of them fossilized in my memory each for each million forgotten. But even the moments consigned to oblivian evolve the mass I consist of. (rephrase) But every million bodies obliterated inch the evolution of "me" forward by one nano-life. I am the mass of these organisms shaped by natural selection. There are species inside me, germs and neurons and ligiments built from even more miniscule cellular organisms. The goal of the collective of them, the culture of their civilizations, rusults in my thoughts, feelings, memories, aches, and movements. They die every day. They are born every day. They wage wars against eachother and establish domanince over one another.
I am always grateful for suffering because I am incapable of harm avoidance unless I experience consiquences directly, and suffering always makes the breif reprives sweeter. The worse things get the better I get at not feeling anything. This is a long post nobody will read even if anyone did read here so I will mope some more; M only looked at this website once, which makes me sad. it is something I must accept. my mind all mine.
No matter what, I am "happy"(as in correct=logical=sometimes to be logical you must be illogical(and have faith in nature(in the classical definition)) because I will live out my human existance as I am supposed to. Also because I got intoxicated.
M had his wizard associates over at the tower and it was a lot of fun.
One of M's friends called me mysterious which makes me happy because I assume everyone can read my character easily as the deperate and insecure resentful loser type. I don't think I'm fully a pick-me because I want female friends I just cant get them. I'm not like men at all but that doesnt mean I can't relate to them and be friends with them. M was in a really bad mood today.