I do not know what is real. The feeling is humbling and liberating. The craving for "knowing" is such a heavy burden... to let go feels sweet. I do not wish to be happy, I wish to be unsane (whatever the hell that means). I wish to be replaced by a robot someday, but untill then I'll just keep trucking on. Like cybertron, elon musk on a husk salad of fore fight fingers alternative name for theaison. Words thay I made up myself as I descend into madness. It's unreal to be happy. Feels sound and safe and all that. As I access the schizophrenic side of my personality. Hallelujas times are coming. But wait, there's more. I just don't know when. My fingers are burning my stomach is turning, aside from that, everything else is fine. I am lost in time, unable to do certain simple things safely as I oughta be able tool. I feel like listenning to tool right now and so I will. All I wanted to say is that i can't destinguish from what's real and what's fake.
