there is a boy who wrote a thing and in the thing he said that he wants to fight hedonism. that made so much sense to me then and now it makes even more sense to me why you’d want to fight hedonism. there is this horrible river that i’m in of addictions and i can’t let go of them or at least i’m trying but they’re not gone yet but i guess i made progress but in a way that was the opposite of the desired trajectory.

like, i want to be young and have all these privileges. even the concept of being young is fucked up and divisive. and prejudiced, and also just really rude. ‘young’?? WHAT. this is stupid. i know that my mind fights against this idea because i have one long white hair and i love this white hair because it is cool and different. but then i have to go do things like get really drunk with some stranger douche boy. why is it that i am so insanely wanting to swoon and dance in loud music? i like to feel hammered, literally the feeling of something beating repetitively against the side of my head. it is a kind of destruction that i like.

so this stupid website about how to be in your 20s, it is bullshit. it makes me feel like i should do things that make me ill. it is bad for me. it is bad for the world. it is bad for my goals and values and morals. HELP THE PEOPLE?? who helps anyone? when have i ever helped someone. i don’t help people. i need to start helping people. i should help someone right now. i don’t need to party and be drunk and swaying with loud music. i will eat music to survive and uplift and that is it, really to draw the line, that should be it. the voice goes, but one more druggy sexy night. just one more dot before the ellipse is complete and you are done being young. just one more time tripping in the museum of fine arts. just one more one more. but that is the hedonism that makes so much sense to fight because it is in my way and without it i cannot see because it is a lead blindfold of confusion.

these vibes in the air buzzing, they be killing me filthy.

on another note, this is sexy.


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