I miss my phantoms. Amongst the forums I would frequent so some usernames would crop up.
It gives this illusion of visiting a town square, even though you’re invisible.
The imageboards I’ve since banned felt like abandoned dollhouses. Dollhouses in desolate classrooms. What did you write on the blackboard for a farewell?
Those more timid concerns could be missed too. Things like figuring out where you belong. Feeling like where you belong is being snatched from you continuously each year.
I have this half-suspicion that the Internet made everyone so tainted and dirty. You can’t have a town square filled with tar and feather.
How embarrassed would you be if your Internet history was published, reader? Did you make sure your door is locked before clicking around?
Whatever you’re looking at, I don’t think you need to feel shame if you do. It’s just your curiosity after all.
So we’ll all continue to develop such strange desires – and if you smudge in your homeostasis into the equation, it’s not so strange after all. I guess in a way you can’t be mad at those who make you mad, since they’re contributing to your late night binge. Contrast.
The winds are picking up from my window view. Being a tree must be nice. They probably evolved to stay in bliss all the time – how else would they endure staying in the same place for hundred of years? They don’t endure it, they revel in it. What’s not to like?
You get cute birds visiting you. Squirrels too. And you get to watch over frantic peoples walking back and forth tapping black glass and shoving bricks to their ears. An amusing sight I imagine.
If I were a city planner, I’d make it the most disorganized winding path sort of venue. There’d be a lot of hidden rooms, hidden alleys. And I’d release a bunch of cats upon the street, ban all the cars, throw in a few stray chickens too. Sounds nice.
Most of my ventures start with this false bravado. And don’t get me wrong, I really do believe that I’ll continue to “isolate” myself. It’s just today feels a little hollower than usual. I guess it’s like leaking poison out. You can almost feel the wires submerged into your skull.
Some cycles ago I would often wonder what’s the point. More than a few so I’ve submitted to how I don’t have anything concrete I’m working toward. But it’s more like the things I would want to drive myself toward border on insanity, e.g. immortality, psychokinesis. You can laugh at me, but I don’t see why either aren’t possible.
It’s more like, I wouldn’t bother living in a world where either aren’t possible.
Visiting my phantoms are nice, but I’d rather find new ones.
If I have to become a monster, then so be it.