New York on a good day. New York on a bad day. New York on a day
i wanted talent before health. freedom before talent. an echo of necessity in reams of pretty thoughts. what we once wanted is never what we currently want, intangible and kind of just living for the moment, totally unhinged by the reality of plausibility.
I don’t need to know that I have friends or that maybe, somewhere, someone loves me. All I need to know is that my soul is dead and the world is still moving. Selfishness and self-preservation are the only qualities in life that are admirable.
i want to do what i do best and run away. if an Adult Personality Feature is staying the course and doing what’s best, then i fail. it’s OK. i have been programmed and coded strictly to make use of what’s available to me: space and distance. i’ve mastered them approximately and have been recursively trained to simulate the same course of actions: initiate, engage, run. it’s easy and it’s simple. things that are simple are beautiful and unburdened by mess and clutter, leaving you with what i would essentially consider freedom. i want to be free and untethered from all things. you would say that love and friendship are the building blocks of success in life, really, and that we’re nothing without them. i say that success is whatever you define it as, properties and classes stacked in a very delicate arrangement, propagating that if you spend enough time on anything, you find success in everything, with or without love
(which doesn’t exist anyway, at least not in any coding i’ve seen).
It’s just tables
in a grid
inside divs. Life is nothing
more or less
(unless of course you want it to be,
but then you’d have to live div-free
which is harder than you’d think it’d be—
have you ever used jQuery?)
What appears to you as a dream slowly materialises as sheer truth; as any faceted thing is, reality is perception and a collection of ideas that you form into fact. In life, you’re marginally lucky: lucky to meet someone whose ideas might sync with yours, and lucky to have any idea at all of what constitutes as “the truth.” Singularly, you walk the world alone, doing what you need to do—you tell yourself, time and time again, that “what matters to me, matters.” If you are able to see beyond that and diversify to include one, or two—or many, maybe hundreds—into that niche fold of oneness, then you are either blessed or damned, depending on your ability separate idea from idea and conceptualise that things matter GENERALLY rather than SPECIFICALLY. For you, one human caught in a vast state of personhood, the thought that things matter and dwindle to sheer generalisation is likely daunting and harrowing at best. We’re all alive, though, and there’s another day coming — no matter your decision to fold into the mass or stand alone, forever, weathered and still clinging to the sentimental thought that your opinion has some kind of verifiable weight (it doesn’t).
^_^ ♫♪ ♫♪♫♪ i just keep letting me down! letting me down! letting me down! ♪♫ ♪♫ ♪♫ ^_^