construct whatever narrative you need bro
this diary is what, probably 75-80% performative. call it what you will, but it's like, a public diary bro. public diary. an absurd concept really. airing your dirty laundry, delicates out on a public forum. that onlookers can come by examine and give "feedback" on. it's making a small spectacle out of your shitty life. it's still social media. i don't know, i don't really know. aren't we all just feeling like we're missing something profound in our lives? maybe someone will connect with me if i put my true self out there. but it isn't your true self. maybe it's how you see yourself, but at the end of the day that's just *your* perception of yourself, rife with blindspots and convenient omissions. everyone else has a different perception of who you are, will fit you into the box they want you in using whatever limited information they have.
i don't care about any of this shit either. (but of course i do.) i don't. words are just words. but THEY'RE EVERYTHING.
i recognize I'm deeply flawed. manipulative, emotionally stunted, flawed. it's a problem. i don't know how to play the game the right way, like a good little neoliberal. that's why irl I try to say as little as possible these days. it's not worth how it might be interpreted. i have no agenda besides, maybe find love again somehow, but I'm not holding my breath.
it's easy to go around pointing fingers at the people in your life, at the people you have even the briefest interactions with, but like, you don't know the first thing about the entire depth of their experience or their intentions... and we've just been so beaten down by the system, by capitalism. you can't just exist, you HAVE to earn your keep. you have to pay. and when real wages stagnate for 50 years, it fucks people up. i don't know bro.
this whole thing is absurd and if i had the choice i would have never been born into it.