Maybe it doesn't help that I'm listening to all this music about misanthropy and suicide, but I feel this acute and hushed sense of dread, like the world is about to end in a few months.
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The Canadian accent sounds patronizing, especially in the prairies. It's bloated and gruff. Everything we say is always in the rhythm of asking someone what they're doing when the answer is obviously something they're not supposed to.
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I always say I'm going to nap but I never do. I stay up on my phone as if I'm holding out for something, as if to put everything down would be worse than continuing to bear with it.
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Nobody can think for themselves. I certainly am no different.
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I'm not trying hard enough.
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It is only going to get worse and there is nothing anybody can do about it anymore.
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I don't want to leave my room.
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The prairies in smog looks the way pulpy shit looks floating around in a toilet, like the ashes of a burned down building whose fire had been put out long ago.
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In a past life, I think I would have been a compulsive smoker.
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Maybe I've made a grave mistake.
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I want everyone to think I'm smart and that's fucking stupid of me. I want everyone to like me.
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I feel like shit tonight. I don't really know why. It's nothing in particular. This seems to hit me every couple of days and I have to stop doing whatever I'm doing for a night until I force myself to get back to it the next day. I don't know what to do about it beyond that.
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This would be longer if I had more ideas tonight. Sorry about that.
