It’s not like I don’t believe in something. I treasure the moment of my eyes coming open, seeing that I am still here, that collection of drugs of knowing something. And then realizing that, that it’s not what it’s supposed to be, knowing it’s a lie. I’m going to be dead, just that. A mantra of sorts. I wait for the next thing in fear, tense and in delight. Everything is now. And if not, in a bit. It will come again. And I will have it then. That’s what I tell myself again and again.
So, yeah, I’m a bit of a shit-disturber, childish too, but childlike, afraid to fail, freaky, cartoonish, self-serving, self-pleasing, demanding, lying, sinning cheater.