i’m doing some last minute cleaning of the style files on the you-know-what*.
only a couple people have looked at the thing or given feedback.
i am getting more and more pessimistic about the things that i do and pretend are accomplishments.
i put all my time and energy into things that make me feel like i am contributing in some small way to the world; when i am finished, i always see the same thing when i look back: people going about their business as if nothing had ever happened. it is painfully obvious that i am wasting my time, and yet i cannot stop.
no wonder why i quit making visual art.
no wonder why i quit making music.
no wonder why i quit writing stories.
no wonder why i quit writing poetry.
no wonder why i quit athletics.
no wonder why i quit.
the fact is that nobody cares, and they sure shouldn’t be expected to anyway.
indisputable:
i am a mean and heartless yet overly sensitive person.
i’m not particularly good at any of the things that i do.
i’m not a very interesting or enjoyable person.
i am vain and self-centered.
* i can’t use the word “mars” or most people will automatically skip the entire entry, apparently
