weird the way my life, my real life, my actual sitch - only even occurs to me those brief periods when the engine of my obsession gets jammed. i was thinking about a girl i used to like, a lot, earlier. guess i am again, now. was thinking what might have happened. was almost acting out. strange. we don't experience emptiness often. we adapt.
i wanna produce an art piece - big text printed on a gallery wall, saying: "i can't decide whether the ability to fool yrself is a tragedy or a comedy." which is true. meanwhile, the next zine will probably feature the following: "i was a happy child. i was a self-hating adolescent. now i'm a self-medicating adult."