I hate to be descriptive at the utter complete exclusion of some form of rational prescriptivity, but things are getting better. Anxiety is still there and annoying as hell, but it doesn’t hit me at the core anymore. I can think somewhat rationally, albeit with a broken brain from the anxiety. I don’t like the word “stress” because it normalized and legitimizes the suffering of overworking, overthinking. I still don’t have anything to do but I can now tolerate doing nothing in particular. I even want to go on a walk with my family through the neighborhood for once. I used to hate everything. I now just hate most things. Almost everything. Reading, TV, all forms of media I hate. Not in principle; I desperately need them in principle. But I just think the creative output of the media is… lacking. Strongly lacking.

I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to do. I can’t keep going on like this. It’s another time before the yonder year. It’s a tome, a totem,, a totalitarian fiction. We cover and mud and rumble. It’s timely but not for all. Let’s go.

Sometimes you just can’t do anything. That time has been most of the time for me for the last five years. All of the time. But it’s okay I think it’s getting better. I wish I had wiser cosmic truth than just noticing it’s getting better. Power. Not sure.

Okay nevermind. 8:58 pm. Starting to get bad. Stir crazy and panic.

Tactile hallucinations. People are starting to psychically push me and hurt me physically psychically. And invade my mind aggressively. It’s very argumentative very yelling. I thought i left it at work. But family is here to torture me now. I don’t have anyone to read on here. It’s just crap poetry and normal people. Nothing interesting. No voice.