social ineptitude seems to (negatively) make up for any idealistic sense i've had of my preceived image and where i was going. perhaps it's time for self-reflection. Maybe self-reflection is what brought me to this point. what's the point in self-reflection? at all?

Undying toil. I said poetry takes turmoil and a dedication to it. I question that sometimes. I also said::there is difference between people that have been in love and people that haven't. Poetry lies somewhere in between. Perhaps I was being indulgent; I wonder.

These things I say are grains of salt, i guess. face value demoralized. because I no longer believe in morality. or any of these things that were originally true. I also self-loathe more now than i used to but sometimes feel self-righteous. Sometimes, with my hands, I gesture a motion forward. "this is where I'm going," i say. Nobody understands. i'm not sure i do, either.

THE FULL CONTEXT OF THIS SESSION IS LOST WITH MY MEMORY. I NEVER KEEP TABS. BUT I DO. MOSTLY ON ME, BUT I STILL GET MAD AT OTHER PEOPLE. OPENLY ADMITTED TO THE GENERAL IMPERFECT REPUBLIC: I DO GET MAD/MADE. BY OTHER PEOPLE. PEOPLE'S VIEW OF ME BECOMES MADE BY THEM AS THEIR PERCEPTION OF ME CHANGES. MOSTLY I AM IN CONTROL, BUT THAT IS MY VIEWPOINT. ONCE I WROTE A FEW NICE THINGS ABOUT LOVE. OR VITAMINS. OR NOT LOVE OR NOT VITAMINS. WHO FUCKING CARES?

yes: people's honesty scares me. i could not believe how honest she was. like sometimes when i say i'm a liar and a cheat i never really mean it but maybe it's true. because she was fucking honest. and i'm always skirting around what's really there, what i really mean to say. what's the fucking point in my useless rhetoric? i feel like i'm creating some sort of system to live by. all systems are bound to fail. unless it's a system that continually changes. i make room for that. i do. i promise.