I have to get something moving with my life.
It’s like I’m on a 24/7 comedown from mescaline, the game never changes I should know that already. Gotta do something with my life, start rubbing two sticks together, collect cans, I don’t know.
All my talk of not producing, is actually a excuse, bullshitting myself at this point making it a agenda I’m incapable because of my illness, can’t be 30 living with my parents, jumping through ■■■■■■■ hoops of my own imagination like a dumbass, surely you already know the definition of a victim.
Whether or not I have 30 spoons or only one
Time is a valuable thing, have to do something, anything, theres no such thing as ideal, all of my thinking is of fantasy,
yes I’m talking to you, for or against it.
Psychosis is not rationalizing irrationality
Stability is rationalizing irrationality
I most have forgot that the whole picture is completely of imaginary ties to what is real, who enjoys stress?
anything other than this I’m screwing myself.
■■■■■■■ around in some Disney park fighting some mythical experience of my own chosen reasoning, like I’m a cool mouse making some type of face, come to figure I’m a ■■■■■■■ dumbass, fighting some supernatural ties to imagination like a coolcat who doesn’t wake up to the idea that the whole scope is mornic and im rationalizing it like it’s some ■■■■■■■ comic book of characters fighting against eachother, wake up your clowning yourself, call it a run on sentence