Lost something of myself somewhere along the timeline.
And it’s not due to any substances or thoughts like that.
It’s like there’s a parasite in my head. And I adopt its practices. So I’ll subsist off of random thoughts online to give it some noise. The other me has been silent for so long. This was its way out, only to be morphed into another mule.
After some point, it feels like this site is no longer mine. It’s the parasite’s. I lost control of it somewhere.
To fulfill whatever the parasite wants became the objective.
The previous objective was to contribute to something but it’s all shattered out there. Picking up the pieces makes you wonder if the pending glued jug will hold any water.
I’ll write whatever. I’ll be another rendition. The keyboard feels real and that’s the beginning and end. I could get doxxed and that’ll be the end of it. But I’m already doxxed if I just fill the role that’s expected of me: the extent of who I am is already known. Because when you keep tending the surface you’ll find nothing underneath.
It doesn’t matter if it makes sense or not. You don’t need to have a solution. There’s no need to .figure out. every time.
I’ll type whatever. Don’t mean to mislead people into thinking I have something substantial to say. Maybe the more jagged fragments of personality right here is repulsive but that’s what’s behind the screen.
I guess I don’t want to contribute to a fake persona. I’m ready to be hated.
I don’t want to be a part of the termites, the parasites, I don’t want any part of it anymore.
If I must be the scapegoat, then I’ll be it. I won’t let the parasites win.
I think you win a partial battle when you stop explaining everything you do.
On my about page I got used to not being understood, seeking to understand.
But now I’m getting used to not hiding the parts that aren’t understood. I usually keep them bundled because what’s the point in waving it around? But I’m realizing that if it only exists inside of me, it’ll get snuffed out by the parasites. I’ll be hollowed out. And a hollowed feeling is an empty feeling is a lifeless feeling.
It’s within my interest to have some life :-)
So I’ll just write whatever. And that broken jug will be glued together. And it’ll pour some water and you just keep pushing onward.