Radio Dada

My hangover has covered the world with cold damp fog. I must shower, at the very least. I want that doorknob changed. I’m sick of not having boundaries in the place where I live. How is this so hard? Will I ever have a place of true safety and rest, with friends who get me, who would be horrified how long this went on, how quickly people turned their heads and looked away? Are such hypothetical friends elsewhere having similar dehumanising experiences, wondering if they’ll ever meet someone who understands, who faces this indifference and resolves over and over to keep a little wholeheartedness in reserve in the hopes of one day meeting someone who reciprocates? In a cold world you need friends to keep you warm, before the big chill. In the meantime, people could stand to be a little more chill, and understand the need for a home environment that makes individualised chill times accessible to all who live there, as needed. Be the chill, allow the chill you want to see in your life. Allow people to chill as you want to be allowed to chill. Chill should be accessible to everyone, and tailored to their particular chillitude. This is the truth! This is my belief! …At least, for now.

Yeah honestly a big hot pile of stinky dookie. And pain. Oh the pain. Did I mention pain? In conclusion: pain.

Having to spend each day all the colours of the spectrum. Thinking it might be easier if you were just one colour and easily perceived.

I must get through this. I can’t keep quiet.

I wish…

Trying to talk myself through this.

Or am I just like a clock spinning ‘round? Everything seems unclear. Confusion is raising its head and I can’t make a sound. I feel it; pounding like a drum inside my brain. I feel it; if it doesn’t stop I’ll go (more) insane.

Spoilers for ‘The Good Place,’ also ‘An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge’ and the film ‘Stay’ by Marc Forster (sp?).

OMGs I can’t believe it’s happening again.

Argh argh argh.