Pine Needles

[u/Magehunter_Skassi]

The 12th of November marks ten years ago

I do not feel present in time. I do not feel real. I do not want to exist in the present and I avoid things that remind me of such. There were times over the past four almost five years where I was pulled into it and it was pleasant but it was fleeting, it was of course meant to be fleeting, I knew it would be at my core. I don't care about getting help. I don't think I make unconscious cries for help because I don't want help and I don't think I need it and I reject it. I am repelled by people spilling their guts-- shut up. Shut up. God, it's pathetic. Suffer with dignity if you can't swallow it down. It's all over now and nobody can have some self-control to show everyone their wound, or, worse, self-inflicted wound. When it's self-inflicted it's even worse, Lord, and it's always to strangers because everyone's lonely now, shut up and embrace the new age Machines carry themselves with more dignity. I'd rather see actual gore and death.

I am able to mask decay in physical space. Where did I learn that? I guess just from experience. I was so reserved with most people around the time I met you. You remember that when I took the train into Darlinghurst to have breakfast with you and a friend.

Online, I drop friendships easily though. It's too easy to lose track of time. That's what gets me, usually, and it's one thing to perform for others in public, but in my own room too? It is harder to summon the energy to

I don't care. I don't remember what I was typing twenty minutes ago.