The moment I’ve been waiting for has just happened. I felt it snap, I looked up and I realised that I’m crazy, I’m fucking crazy. It’s a bit of a relief actually. I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and, now that it’s happened, I feel oddly liberated. What was holding me back again, I ponder.
I look at the television and I exclaim, ‘it’s so cute!’ Then I know it’s not but I don’t care.
It seems that I’ve moved on but I don’t know from what or, more interestingly, to what. Maybe it’s that I’m standing very still. So still that I can feel all the world moving outside, around me, away from me. And it seems like something matters.
Pathetic how suckered in by the television I am. I’ve cried, ‘it’s so cute,’ to saccharine familial love even though it’s not.
I lost my mind between the couch and here and I cannot remember how to think or which buttons to press. There are buttons involved, aren’t there?
I was dreaming my megalomaniacal dreams again last night. Selected, preserved, and fucked over most royally.
Is it true that swearing shows a lack of imagination; it is true that swearing shows a lack of imagination. Sounds like one of those irritating Americanisms.
I’ll take myself to church now and believe not believe but believe and never question. No I won’t. That’s a lie.
Now I’m dreaming of a warm bed, it’s one already occupied, not really but really and I’m aching to get to it and warm my cold hands.