I had all these feelings earlier that I had intended to rant about; I can't for the life of me remember them. It's funny I should forget them, as they were my feelings and they sure as fuck haven't gone anywhere... but I keep finding myself numb and impatient with it... On to the next one.

My life becomes exponentially simpler the longer I remain isolated. Tasks are completed; assignments are fulfilled; appointments are met; finances are balanced; promises are kept. I am the last remaining liability to... myself. Yet it becomes incalcuably more complex. Any time a void becomes bigger than your desire to fill it, bad things are bound to happen... I become completely and utterly turned off by all people. I miscalculate my own capacity for misanthropy. I forget all the things I love and fret over things I miss. I ignore my capacity to create because all I want to do is destroy.

Sometimes I wish I'd just explode into a million pieces rather than the lazy, heartbreaking unravel that keeps me awake at night and puts so much pressure on my lungs. Or that I would just get an Rx for Valium and call it a day.