a place to put words

we do things even though we know no one will see them. because they feel important even if no one else thinks so. there is more to life to recognition i suppose, i just wish i could feel it to be true

this sort of malaise feeling of modernity. i feel werid and out of place. like i want to cry but the tears wont  form because i dont feel like they are warrented. i dont desrve to cry, nothing has happened. maybe i  just feel isolated, socailly. ha ha social  distancing. ive been doing this for so much longer than you  fools. i feel abstracted. like the pieces wont come together.  my stomach hurts and that is the  only way i can actually come  to terms  with the fact that i dont feel so good. everyone says  my writting is  overdramatic and they are right  but nothing else feels genuine/sincere. i wonder if there is a difference between  those two words. "always genuine, never sincere" maybe that is the aesthetic of  modernity i write as if i know anything,  foolish of me

that feeling  of your hand shaking from fear. there is comfort in knowing  that i am capable of feeling  this visceral a feeling. my brain feels fine but  i suppose my body is soemthing different. i am not the master of my own house after all

why is it that i desire my own exploitation? that the thought of being corrupted by outside actors seems so appealing and comforting? maybe i want to do things that my moral compass doesnt want me to but some deeper, darker part of me desperately wants to. because if someone forces me to do something bad i can rationalize it and maintain moral integrity while also enjoying my own depravity. maybe i am just disgusting and everyone is correct for finding me a nuisance, but it's how i feel!!!! and i hate it.

The paradox of clout: one can only disavow clout upon achieving it, which means by extension makes their disavowal meaningless because they already have it. "Omg being at the top is so hard and stressful" ok cool I don't care because I'm not at the top and mediocrity tastes like blood in the back of your mouth and I would rather my head explode from the air pressure at the top of a mountain than blowing it out myself because I will never know what the view is like up there. But, if I am ever to get good enough at something where I can say "yes having clout is the worst" someone will tell me this. Thus the cycle continues and no one is happy. Maybe its better to never play the game of ambition at all.

our future was held hostage so we made out own swimming through the recycled filth of modernity we stitched together fragments and fragrances of beautiful things where context was destroyed we created our own, passing our creations along with stories of love and triumph, defeat and decay, but always looking pretty while doing it aesthetics born out of the feeling of comforting someone while you both know that neither of you have the answers, that it will only get worse aesthetics born out of a language with no grammar, one whose screams are unrecognizable even to itself aesthetics born out of a love for the majesty of ghosts and what they held dear aesthetics aborted we called it art, they called it imitation they called it degeneracy, we called it love if the goal of fashion is to die and be reborn, than let us be  the necromancers of futurity, carving crevices in our shared private hell and painting its ruins with the beautiful blood of corpses i just wish i was who ...

                                                    Do you really love me? I just don't feel capable of being loved right                                                      now                                                     Sorry that was a weird thing to say [name] why do you feel that way?                                                     It's unimportant                             ...