say i got potential but the kid lazy - heems

i am graduating in less than two weeks. i feel simultaneously empty and do full i am pouring over. i cannot concentrate on anything, and cannot get out of bed unless there is a punishments awaiting me. i have goals that will take years to accomplish and i don't know where to start. my good ideas mean more to others than they do to me. there is a palpable distance between me and everyone else, a distance my squaww lifestyle hasn't yet compromised. i think about someone hurting my feelings days or even weeks after the fact, even if i know they misspoke or didn't mean it or take it back. i feel alarmingly good at playing the victim; my strengths mean nothing to me, but my weaknesses define me. constantly getting in my own way, yet i dont want anyone to help me. i hate advice and i never want to be serious. yet i need someone to force me in a direction.

everyone is moving on, but i cannot focus long enough to remember any information or skills. lately, i have been forcing myself into fleeting 'gratitude adjustments', going over my insane privilege. i will never starve, i have no student loans, all of my limbs work, i am cognizant enough of my actions not to consciously hurt another person, i feel deep empathy but know when i am being taken advantage of, etc, etc.

i am currently in a flux, working part time at hip hues and thinking vaguely yet stressing intently about which jobs i should apply for. i want to cultivate my skills, seems like there isn't enough time for anything, yet i have to be good at everything all the time. be nice to everyone, be funny, say something intelligent/relevant, make art, draw everyday, write everyday, do well on that paper, don't blow off that presentation, learn css, learn html, make a new video, don't judge those closest to you just because you can. im not sure how angry to be at the state of the world. what is my anger going to do beyond making me an angry person. i am selfish for this reason.

you can will yourself to be a better person !

this week of extreme realizations started last tuesday after seeing steve roggenbuck perform at drkmttr. drk.  was a relieving purging that heightened or perhaps obliterated self awareness. was like a stand up special with heightened sense of vulnerability and care. he is big into being 'gentle' recently and was interesting to see a pronouncement of genteelness, which is of course oxymoronic . i have internalized this message of genteelness, contrasting interesting to the VRQ article about post-woundedness and the internalized misogyny that comes w the territory of being brusque or crass or insensitive as a woman. i am taking up the space in between manhood and womanhood and getting larger and larger.

off-roading or what exactly is an atv? (james mentz wants to run something by me)

last night i went to a reading and thoroughly enjoyed watching everyone shut the fuck up for an hour and listen to one person in one corner of the room. afterwards i immediately drank a bunch of wine and pretended a parasol was my penis. then everyone went to mc's tiny yellow house (?) and everyone got too high (me). it could have been the most fun ive ever had but i also felt tyrannical and times like bent on expressing myself. also i took  a cute hostage with a round face named paul and couldn't tell if he really liked me or really didn't like me. how important is it to know how someone is reacting to you? you should still say all the stuff you want to say...right? i think i sort of had a script in my head of things i wanted to say and would have said to anyone. which is something im neutral about. this mode of interacting is keeping in time to my new mantra of talking to everyone like a sad sack of fleshy tissue without regard to what sexx parts or face they have. has been good to me i think and is a fair dispersal of energy based on third party characteristics like, do you think im funny? do i think you're funny? are you kind or creative? these are the only things that matter people! i think im feeling blessed to discover this earlyish(???) since being so crippled earlier of what i look like to people and how i am coming off. i am still keenly aware of and even mildly obsessed with how i seem to others, but it is sort of a morbid curiosity as opposed to an anxiety.

i was definitely ranting but felt hyper-coherent and embarrassed the whole time. embarrassment is a form of sobriety within the psychological context of partying, and keeps you from being to bold or antagonistic. is perhaps good to feel this type of embarrassment; but, i guess reminding yourself that despite moments of greatness or comedy or artistic whatever, you are nothing! your judgment of yourself does not truly affect your output(?? (maybe it does? but how?)) making something cool and jerking yourself off about it does not mean you will make more cool things. wait until after you're dead before you pat yourself on the back. backpatting goes a short way and should not be confused with happiness. these are good things i remind myself that i think ultimately have changed the way i perceive others. there is very little 'competition' and i love women more because of it but men a little less. people just want you to ask them questions about their stupid lives! do not dwell because it will get in the way of your upcoming lobotomy! scheduled around mailing out those etsy orders. TRULY future was right, you dont have an image to maintain! if you want to be insane sometimes you are allowed to be!



was i being annoying last night? wait, don't tell me! because! if everyone needs a hug from you than you weren't that bad after all! you have $0 now but everyone feels good!

matt, i was at a party with you and didn't cry ONCE! 100 emoji

222 is the universe saying that everything will be alright!

part boy

 i have become the blanket-clad burrito i've always known i could be.
yesterday. suavage was christened with a poetry from luca ____, hannah gamble, and tj jarrett.
standast baela got some air, and i got drunk and gave all my prints away.

afterwards i chose mat and his frends over my friends. sitting at dinos, i recorded and photographed the railish man in red making burgers with bubbly melting cheese and ggrease. I wanted mat to touch me the way he sometimes does when he's had ~6+ beers. instead he didn't talk to me except to ask in a sugary sweet voice what i wanted to do after. i was contemplating crying at this point to did not respond and instead shrugged my shoulders and shook my head while tweeting about him and me and that situation.

i could feel the giddy, drunk, flush replaced with a stingy sloppy wetness, and i wanted desperately to go home. i try so hard. i want him to be happy always and i see in him what i want to be but he is adverse to seeing the same in him or me. when he is drunk and we are in a crowded room without his / my / our friends he grips my arm or leg and shispers into my ear with his mouth flat against my head and i forget that he will never love me. when we are saying goodbye i squeeze him against me for as long as i want and he knows i love him. he likes it, he has to like it.

i am cautiously accepting applications from other boys men and women around me. my feelers extending around entire bodies of people at shows or parties. i like the attention but i only feel an intense need for attn from him. lately he has looked at me longer, asked me questions in a high pitched innocent cadence as if we are both 14 yrs old and probing love between us. accidentally tells me im pretty, sometimes as a 'handsome man' despite wearing '12 lbs' of makeup




i am under the (perhaps incorrect) impression that upsetting myself with men boys and body is fodder for art or comedy

girls is the best show on television.


i want you to read this and tell me we can't be friends anymore.
should i call your phone.


wo w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w

i'm getting sad about matt

hi
i sit here when i'm digesting.


i want you to






























come in our thigh crease

i want a cushion

what if....i'm not really crushing it?

this is the last week of summer of my life. i want to sleep all day and call my pets different racial slurs.

this is my almost 14th celibate month. a penile implement has not been in my vajina in 13 months and 27 days. i don't even know how to talk talk sex.

i'm starving


...

fuckin hot



.
.
.
.
.
.
i suck and no one

you don't know how to have a conversation with me,

but
i'm the child.

thank you! what do you mean...?

retain enough insecurity to be vulnerable.



yesterday we went to the lake and i forgot it wasnt a date. we took off our clothes and i was nervous and you were nervous. i didn't want to finish unbuttoning my shirt over my bathing suit. the american apparel suit i was wearing makes me look more naked then when i'm actually naked. the sides were so high cut; a sliver of my actual literal vagina (pubic mound) was permanently 'exposed'.

i forgot after a while but then i felt our heads buoy up at the same time and it was raining and i can't believe i don't have more to say about this. i felt myself wanting you and you feeling sort of kind of the same.

is that really what computers used to look like
i dont want people reading my ideas
get in the front seat
oh darling,




help me with something.

goat

alphab has an 'internet mind'. when we hang out (which is almost exclusively in his car), i have to use all faculties not to get lost and follow his very tangential train of thought. it is entertaining but does feel like 'work'. it's similar to watching a fascinating documentary that has more statistics in white text over a black screen than you would have liked.

yesterday he told me he wants to tell me a secret but is stitious about what will happen after i know. i think it is that he doesn't like me but it equally could be that he likes me. i think it is best not to care but i now have an anxiety-producing slurry of old flakes inside me. coincidentally (not really), i hung out with P.GOAT yesterday as well (who all of my other posts are about), after a night spent wishing he would either a. get crushed by a car like the dad in disturbia or b. love me. i texted him at the nord asking what he was doing, expecting an okay time at sportsmans to follow. he responded vaguely and was w lil at the time. after a pleasant interaction at her show, i felt positive about interacting with them both. he replied she wants to 'split wine' which i should've (and did but ignored) picked up on and went on w my life. i said 'where at also if its just u guys no prob just tell me'. no response. 'ok tell me so i know if i should make other plans.'

'make other plans'

i felt the crush and tried to force myself to cry so maybe i could go home earlier. no luck.
left feeling dejected and equipped w some sort of work energy. i walked out, text from alphab 'call me as soonas u are done w work'. i call, he gives me instructions like we are going to dump a body. i wait for him to pick me up at kroger and now try not to cry. he picks me up and drives erratically while also speaking erratically. he buys me a refresher and is cute and shy about it. back in car and back to intense intensity. i get smackers on his piece and we are at my house. i show him a movie trailer after talking about him with him for a while and then we watchsaid movie .we are very focused on the movie and he shivers when something rly emotional happen. i sense of much he feels. it might be too much, or maybe im not feeling enough.



 im reminded of myself whenever i try to ween myself off of antidepressants. color returns to the world and i just stare at everything for two days. the saturation is noticeably stronger and everything is amazing or terrible or heartbreaking. i forget to breathe often during these first few days. after about a week i am tired and feel a little doomed.

then something at best irritating and worst kind of upsetting happens and i crumple like a jesus zine and take 3 lexapro tablets. this happens about twice a year but im know fairly sure i will be more doomed by not taking it at all even when life is amazing. there's a lot more doom where that came from.

the triumphant return of sad bean

people at large do not value being entertained in conversation. thoroughly entertaining someone while talking to them does not make them want to be your friend. there have been countless occasions where i've felt myself performing for someone (or a group of people), willing them to have a 'great time' talking to me, only to have them think nothing of it afterwards and walk away. no one actually cares if you're funny or smart. getting along with someone does not make them want to be your friend; this is one of the main reasons i do not identify with anyone. i have, of course, considered my outer appearance as a detriment to socializing, but i am now at a place where i think of myself as aesthetically appealing, even under the 'commodity' moniker die to the looming otherness following me. 

in the past few months, however, i do think i have made progress in avoiding entertaining, as i semi-recently realized how futile it is to be 'fun'. as i said earlier, people do not register being entertained after it happens; it really is as if the entire conversation did not happen. 

so the looming question that im almost done entertaining (not intended) is: what do people want from me? 

the question is so far from being answered, that I may be better off asking myself: what can i get from others? can i extract entertainment and resources from others? enter a manipulative behavioral mode? 

if ur reading this it's not too late

i want to hurt your feelings.
i want you to feel doubt and contempt for yourself.
i want you to try to mold yourself into a person i would want to be with.
i want you to ask yourself what you're doing wrong.
i want you to talk about me and only me to your friends.
i want you to put on makeup to see me.
i want you to go home hating yourself for not being loved by me.
i want you to go to chuy's and immediately throw up afterwards, while your nose begins to bleed.

somehow you are suspended above these demands, and will never do them for another person, despite or maybe because you are so wanted. an aversion to intimacy is a powerful thing; no one knows you are crippled by trauma. i wouldn't even say i know, but i remember everything you have ever said to me, and you once mentioned a sexual trauma and quickly quickly walked away. the emotional energy i have invested in you is slowly slipping away, but some of it (naturally i suppose) is turning into resentment. i cannot look at someone the way i look at you and have not been able to for almost 3 years. you are not to blame but you knew and did nothing, said nothing, stared back when i stared. i earnestly thought trying hard enough would work, because it works with everything else. people are not logical. art is not logical. i cannot deal with both of these things simultaneously. i do not think i choose people. this is the drone, for now.

i want to make more clip art

everyone hates me and so should u

after a 1.5 week run of terrible days, i experienced 3 'great' days. each day i said 'this is the best day of my life' ~10 times. if i said it enough it would become true, and buoy my mood. these best days of my life were followed by drinking too much and talking too loud, resulting in self-consciously laying in bed for two years the next day. no one is scrutinizing my every move, so i've taken it upon myself to do so.

my dad said i am 'desperately trying to fail' re my entire life.

the people that are supposed to blindly support me are the only people point blank telling me i have no chance. it is getting increasingly difficult not to internalize this message. i want to sink down into the stiff earth and evade failure so much that it is in turn affecting my chances of 'success'. hmm.
is that irony?

a crippling adderal addiction is something i am considering.
i have four friends and i only like 2 of them.
no one is like me and i'm starting to be less and less like me.
i am trying to find the balance between artist and drone.
the security of waking up and parking my car and sitting at a desk for 8 hours is why i am in college.
but that is a grim dream for the .5 of me that wants to be an 'artist'.
i try really hard to get people to like me and i don't think it's working.
i am almost ready to stop trying completely.
if i don't talk to anyone, they will assume the best; anything i saw will only decrease the likelihood of likelihood of liking.

tonight i will drink beer alone and work on my art. i will text matt ~5 times and get angry about him not loving me for a little while. i will go to be satisfied with a slightly increased self-image. there is no tangible benefit for being 'seen'.

everyone is trying so hard, they can try on my behalf i suppose.

i am acutely aware at all times of how much fun im having, and i think it is useful to tell others as this fun is happening to us. my modes of navigating with the world at large are getting more and more narrow; perhaps, this is 'becoming who i am', as early, i was everyone all the time.

i wish i could remember all of the funny things that have ever happened to me. currently i'm alternating between getting really sad about rape culture and getting really excited about art and fun. this week i have wanted to be a man more than any other time in my life. i don't likernogi believe in you

mercury is in retrograde-- two years ago I would have made fun of anyone paranoid enough to think astrological rhythms can explain why their car broke down or why they can't stop spilling coke on themselves. current me is now paranoid enough to completely and totally believe that that's why I broke a $3000 makerbot, fucked up a two hour wait at work, and got pulled over twice in one week. it's also why I convinced myself I love him again, despite giving no signs he thinks of me beyond an analysis vessel and car.