Mad like a hatter, crazy like some awkward ugly thing It's been a whole week and I still feel like I have nothing to say, further compounded by everyone leading their merry lives around me, and the fact that everything seems trivial. And what if everything is just trivial? I feel like I'm ready to get on to more important things and scenes right now- and the more I work myself into a frothy rabidity about my lack of mobility, the angrier I get at everything else that is inane that surrounds me.

It's funny, because I feel like I've worked so hard to get at the place of fun, calm and intelligence that I'm at right now, and it feels like it's all just caging me in, and that I'm stuck to repeat some vicious cycles anew, over and over again until something dramatic happens and I get some sort of change, because I've become too "safe" to manifest any sort of change on my own. I've been wanderlusty all week. The first time I've actually been alone with my own thoughts didn't hit me until I was sitting in the Likwid Lounge reading Bukowski, and I realized I hadn't been able to sit somewhere by myself, enjoy a full meal by myself, be quite and not talk by myself, in what seems to be ages. And hence, everytime someone interrupted me to comment pretentiously on the book I was reading, I felt like ripping out my hair.

Now I'm back in that crowded place again, constantly affected by everything that is going on. The world, or whatnot. And I'll keep taking the hits, and smiling dumbly, being treated like an idiot, being treated like slime under false pretenses, learning nothing and paying lots to do so, hating myself, and hating others irrationally, and loving the people that suck.  ¶ 3:02 AM