a place to put words

not sure if i hate myself or love myself yet. or rather if i hate that i love the idea of myself ha ha

this has been a weird week. i felt the curvature of the earth below my feet and debated with drunk dudes about jordan "lobster man" peterson. i got asked to a birthday party by someone i havent talked to in 2 years. maybe i am cooler than i thought

its so funny, she actively tells you to your face the level of aquitance you are. ive never been told i am a side friend to my face like has, and the conditions of our friendship were both being side friends how funny, how cruel

i got asked to prom????? thats nuts??!!!! i am so happy that this has happened yet conflicted on how to feel about it. because im not sure how i feel about them (and the cost of the whole thing, darn you capitalism) but am honored to go with them because they are so cool. it was so sudden. why me? alas my mortality serves as a cruel reminder to live life to the fullest, and so i shall

i have so much to say. i dont know what scares me more, that no one will hear it or that they will heart it but wont care.

somehow a doll is no more real than a human, or rather that we are no more fake than dolls. what separates us from this beautiful simulation? what need do we have for reality in a world where a copy is capable of being manipulated by our whims so easily? in a narcissistic frenzy we created god in the image of ourselves and fell in love with it. pygmalia and galatea have been reborn like gods out of a machine

everything makes me happy. everythnig makes me sad.

somehow i feel strange looking at spotify accounts that make their own description. they hype themselves up speaking about themselves. "____ makes music that resonates with their audience" - _____. i suppose its because i have never been able to authenticly compliment myself, whenever i see others do it it doesnt feel genuine. maybe thats a me problem

love at first sight, haha what a thought. im happy for you, the way you spoke of her contained a joy that breaks through rational and number theory. i wish you good luck

i want you to watch every insecurity pour out of me like blood from a wound