Unsure and Useless
Dreaming Endlessly, not Wanting to Wake Up
- Feb 7, 2023
- 503
Collection 2 out of 3. A place for me to vent my thoughts while providing me a bit of novelty so that I may shake things up a bit
And also, a place where any stranger can read my experience. Maybe have a laugh, identify with, or in the case of a few particularly greedy ones, report on for money
January 24th, 2026
My mind feels like a spool of thread. It has been unraveled by an unseen force, and now, I can barely make sense of my life. Days, no matter how distinct, are lost to the fog, and the concept of a day alone is a blurred mishmash of events that happened yesterday or several months ago. I'm so scared. I'm in my early twenties, yet I feel my brain rotting in its skeletal chamber
What is the difference between the me of the previous week and the me of the now? I don't know. I swear I place things up but that is something the me of two days prior did. Time is a gaseous substance that possesses no rhyme or reason
Who am I? My existence is confined within the rigid routine of the world around me. Only few know of me in the way I want to be known. How painful it will be to abandon them when I inevitably walk the path I was born to walk
A cute anime girl defines my existence now. Before that, a genius, and before that, a creature who has lost all hope. Before even that, an android, and before that, the most blatant depiction of my desire to CTB. Before, before, before. Before is so easy. Before, there were less variables
Digital depictions of the existence behind glass and crystal and plastic. So malleable and deceiving. There are infinite possibilities behind it
Sayori defines my existence in the one avenue of communication I am most comfortable with. She probably will continue to do so until the very end. On here, I am defined as pieces of toast as a nod to a friend(?) on here who has recovered completely
Such simple depictions are things I cling onto more fervently than my own hollow identity. I am just a transient ghost in the real world who only exists when someone tangible decides to bless me with an interaction. I am made real through that until the conversation ends, and I cease to be. I am a parasite, yearning to grow my roots and take over until all that is is me
There is no use saving a shell. It's a fool's errand
Typing this has no meaning either. The meaning of these words cease to exist without a perceiver, and I will forget these words once I'm done. All things are lost to the fog my consciousness exists in
The only things that are solid in my mind are people, and even they are consumed by the fog—smothering out all traces of bitterness, envy, gratitude, sorrow, and joy
I wonder if they know the fog is with me. I am such a silly person, an existence defined by a fictional girl. They type away, laughing, yet I am hollow
My nails are nonexistent, just like the order to my directionless thoughts
And also, a place where any stranger can read my experience. Maybe have a laugh, identify with, or in the case of a few particularly greedy ones, report on for money
January 24th, 2026
My mind feels like a spool of thread. It has been unraveled by an unseen force, and now, I can barely make sense of my life. Days, no matter how distinct, are lost to the fog, and the concept of a day alone is a blurred mishmash of events that happened yesterday or several months ago. I'm so scared. I'm in my early twenties, yet I feel my brain rotting in its skeletal chamber
What is the difference between the me of the previous week and the me of the now? I don't know. I swear I place things up but that is something the me of two days prior did. Time is a gaseous substance that possesses no rhyme or reason
Who am I? My existence is confined within the rigid routine of the world around me. Only few know of me in the way I want to be known. How painful it will be to abandon them when I inevitably walk the path I was born to walk
A cute anime girl defines my existence now. Before that, a genius, and before that, a creature who has lost all hope. Before even that, an android, and before that, the most blatant depiction of my desire to CTB. Before, before, before. Before is so easy. Before, there were less variables
Digital depictions of the existence behind glass and crystal and plastic. So malleable and deceiving. There are infinite possibilities behind it
Sayori defines my existence in the one avenue of communication I am most comfortable with. She probably will continue to do so until the very end. On here, I am defined as pieces of toast as a nod to a friend(?) on here who has recovered completely
Such simple depictions are things I cling onto more fervently than my own hollow identity. I am just a transient ghost in the real world who only exists when someone tangible decides to bless me with an interaction. I am made real through that until the conversation ends, and I cease to be. I am a parasite, yearning to grow my roots and take over until all that is is me
There is no use saving a shell. It's a fool's errand
Typing this has no meaning either. The meaning of these words cease to exist without a perceiver, and I will forget these words once I'm done. All things are lost to the fog my consciousness exists in
The only things that are solid in my mind are people, and even they are consumed by the fog—smothering out all traces of bitterness, envy, gratitude, sorrow, and joy
I wonder if they know the fog is with me. I am such a silly person, an existence defined by a fictional girl. They type away, laughing, yet I am hollow
My nails are nonexistent, just like the order to my directionless thoughts
