i feel like i’m losing my ability to see the dreamy complexity behind something, like i can’t believe in the secret nature of things anymore. i want to but it’s not working

because every day this dreaminess is stripped from some thing i wondered about before. it’s only a matter of time before i run out of things to be curious about

day after day i can’t shake the idea that behind most things, and especially when it comes to human beings, is a big horrible black hole of absolute emptiness

there is nothing hiding behind the furniture and there is no hidden place to crawl into and see something new

just a shrieking vacuum of nothing!

you can’t help but envy children sometimes. i don’t necessarily miss times and people and places that are gone (though i definitely do) so much as the softer / gentler mind i had when i lived through it all. everything now gets filtered through a badly damaged brain, and i cannot conceive of a future for myself where that doesn’t change in any other way except for the worse