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diaré
Ad 2:
Ezoic
2021-06-01 12:34:44 (UTC)

eheh

In need of physical evidence that "I" have existed so I came back crawling in here, in the end this is my own oasis. The thing that I would remember only in times of misery, like a mom but she actually can help. Maybe reconnecting with my old friends was a mistake. Part of me got possessed with this hero complex or this white knight complex tryna make their day maybe just a little bit better by making them feel like they have someone but they open their mouths and their thoughts and none of the words coming out in their letters ( moment of realization that we are on cyberspace) actually fits my reality like I can't feel any empathy or even sympathy in whatever they are saying. Ok I'm gonna give you an example, I'm gonna turn this into a movie. It's called Teenage Girls Being Vulnerable. Genre: Slice of Life. consist of: "taking care of the future, broken relationships, and friendships that screams out we're all in this together!!!!" AAANND SPOILERS SPOILERS, I am none of those. I am a self-diagnosed sociopath who does stupid stuff because they r bored. but damn they r still my friends and this teenage girl inside me has thoughts of "damn I kinda wish I feel those emotions." Being in quarantine and being stuck in your room with your thoughts makes me see the world from how they truly are(within my own perception), completely deprived of drugs(meaning humans) or any influence, and if I were to describe how I describe things, whoever is the employee responsible for the functions of my thought-creating process, you fucking suck and who did you fuck to still be even at that job. It's like i've been possessed by a 30 year-old doomer who is borderline overdosing himself from blackpills. Nothing feels genuine anymore, or new. These businessmen have gotten over art and they are creating soulless craft to lure soulless humans into creating more soulless crap. When was the last time we took a pause and actually t h i n k of the things we are about to do, think about the consequences, perhaps? What's the difference of a lab rat finding a cocaine in his maze and a human subconsciously scrolling into socmed just to get a stimulation going. I do not know of anyone irl who can live in reality anymore, they always need some sort of influence, or create some sort of drama because they label themselves as being depressed whenever dopamine stops activating in their brain. Well in the end, this all is some sort of justification for myself and to why I am still alone and still talk to imaginary entity.


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