journal 0002
a good song is playing while you try to rip the tape off. when the tape rips off does it take some of you with it?
you've never been good at thinking in isolation. you use others' voices to get ahead. that's the magic of isolation, isn't it? i am stuck in this tiny little hole with no one to contact and i am here alone and can't see anything else so of course no one's been here before... i can't think straight, and i am impulsive and desperate and irrational. i am just staying afloat. forget accomplishing anything, i am laying myself out to dry in the mummified sun, dehydrating myself to a crisp so that maybe someone someday will come across my parched form and kick some water over me for entertainment, and i will be activated again. until then, i seek pleasure as if it is microscopic particles in the sky.
i am not dying. with every mistaken step i hurt more, showing just how much there is left to lose