29 November 2015

I need to figure out a phrase that sums up the catastrophe of whatever the hell all this is, and make it as punchy and to the point as “Soylent Green is people!”—and then scream it from the rooftops before the shadow agents finally take me down (surely I have ended up on some sort of watch list)

Why can’t they see? Am I alone in feeling this way?

Man the Nazi boxcar of the 21st century is invisible though, isn’t it . . . and that is why it’s impossible to get your hands on it, or really begin to understand what it even is

Because it is a million things, maybe more, and nearly all of it is poisonous and awful

I feel lost inside my mind and inside the world and for God’s sake I am not being poetic about it, I mean it literally

Often I say things, sometimes phrased softly and other times not, and I am terrified when I am met with indifference or lately just these sort of “Huh? Oh . . . yeah. . . .” moments and then a fade to a familiar lost gaze

There is nothing anyone can do so maybe that is the only reasonable response I can expect anymore

I can’t relate to another single human being outside of a woman who is shut up alone in her Chicago apartment dealing with her own insurmountable anguish

Every day I can feel it, really feel it, that I am getting further and further away from relating to anyone on even a basic level

I don’t care about myself or where I’ll end up . . . it seems so silly to me

My plan is flimsy but all I know is that I need to get away and stay away and never come back