Everything that I love is an art, yet even then all of my art is meaningless to me now. All of it, everything, everyone everything I know or once knew is death. I feel dead. nothing I have to do is worth doing. My brain makes the most ridiculous connections to make me think that all I am doing is OK It's not, though, and I know that. I am worth. nothing. It is so apparent to me now that I am nothing. Mathematically I am equal to 0 an idea, not a number that is negative or positive, but an idea that there is nothing to be had at that current juncture in time and location. I am nothing in any current juncture in time and location that I choose to be in.
Another thing occurred to me, recently. That is this even the concept of nothing or zero is still something because we still have a symbol for it, whether that symbol be a word or a number. This worlds nothings are still and will always be something. But I digress, as I always do and instead decide to tell you where exactly it is I've been. You see, hold on..
That's better. Where was I, right. I've been busy. So so so very busy. If you have read everything that I have written on this channel of the internet, then you'll know what kind of unstable person I am and how I feel like I need to be heard even though there probably isn't anyone in the whole world that reads what I write here on a regular basis. I want you to read it, though, I want you to know what I'm thinking and I want you to read what I've written, because I need to be noticed.
Again, though, I digress.
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