Active Imagination Notes 01

I don't like what/who/where I am right now.

I'm having fun, sure.

But when I'm -not- out having "fun" (read: drunk/high and hooking up with the next tool) and can't sleep at night all I can do is repress the vomit that comes up when I think about the things I'm doing and saying and pretending I care about.


I think about any possible alternatives, though, and realize there really are none.



I'm stuck.


I'm vile.


My life has become recycling one superficial excitement after another.
Lately, I've thrived off of the words, "You're so pretty."
What is that?
Who gives a shit?
Not anyone who matters.


I've thrown away what semblance of "self" I once had. I didn't live for myself then, but I'm sure as hell not doing it now.


"I sincerely believe that everyone has need for such a respite."
"I sincerely believe that everyone has need for such a respite."
"I sincerely believe that everyone has need for such a respite."
"I sincerely believe that everyone has need for such a respite."
"I sincerely believe that everyone has need for such a respite."


fuck.