AN INTRO: I have reached the point where I don't enjoy anything anymore. Perhaps I am sick. Mother tell me I'm finished. I am tired. Life is a pointless memory. I have gathered what I am going to gather, I have thrown away all that I care for. Pain is logic, truth is unforgiving. I have no effort for the tranquil beach at sunset, nor any love or lust worth pursuing. Perseverance is a double edged sword. What the two points are, I do not care to describe. I do admire the carefree freedom possessed by ordinary school children. I do not long for beauty anymore. I have a difficult time getting out of bed. I've been reading a lot of Camus.
I would not like to speak to anybody about my problems. Taking my necessary medication does not phase me anymore. Let's talk about desire.
1) Desire: Take my sharp sordid pain anyway, oh strange device.
2) Lust: Imagery is cunning and miserable in it's unfolding process.
3) Passion: Same as lust during depression.
DREAD: No want, need, or longing for any future event that will possibly transpire. I walk my days in a mystery blanketed in nothingness. The unwinding streets and ordinary passageways lead me onto the next point I will attempt to make.
MEMORY: Turmoil in recalling things too abstractly, torturous to individuals such as myself. Moments in time suspended, happier times, vivid daylight, everything I can never recapture is better than now.
TO DANCE: God I would love to dance.
REALITY: I spend alot of time on mattresses.
TRUTH: PAIN
PAIN: LOGIC
DEATH: the only reality worth pursuing, the only truth that is not kept secret.
SECRETS: keep you sick.
SICKNESS: encourages growth
ENCOURAGEMENT: I would like to say don't waste your time, though honestly I might need some of that.
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