Evil-Am

I just felt like writing a long note this morning, that may be read only by chance and by a stranger if at all. And I felt like typing oddly. Not like writing like I usually do. Maybe because typing makes me feel like I'm doing busy work and thus affords me less guilt than writing. Although what I should be doing is reading. I'm simply streaming consciousness here, there is no aim or objective but to type and type nothing in particular, in particular.

WHAT AM I DOING, I often ask myself these days in periods of existential angst, but then again my life isn't so lofty that I would use words like existential angst. More of dramatic exclamations to be mildly cathartic. At times is so that people give false reassurances. Okay they're not false, well they're not entirely false. But they're false to my low esteemed self. In anycase, WHAT AM I DOING. 

I understand no one knows what I'm talking about, which is fine, because no one is going to read this anyway. But I'm just letting myself be lost in the little things and letting them make me happy, because the big things scare me. I'm very excited in this moment about how I've not had to look at the keyboard this entire paragraph. 

My phone vibrated and a paper bag 4 feet above me shook. Normally, I would associate the vibration with the shake, but today, I'm inclined to think that there's a nervous rat in there, trying to escape. Poor rat. 

I woke this morning wanting to be hugged by an orangutan. But we both know that's not happening. Who we? Well the orangutan and I of course. You know who the best most famous orangutan is? The librarian at Unseen University. If you've not encountered him yet, please go do that. Who you? Well the person who may reading this. This is a very tree falling no one around to hear situation.

UGH WHAT AM I DOING.

It's when things happen in life that I can talk to no one about. Quite literally no one. That's when I start thinking over and over again about how if no one knows about things that happen in my life and I always outwardly deny them, then did they ever happen? Are they even happening?
Then I realize that my behaviour to people might change because of those incidents and therefore they must have happened. However, since no one knows of said incidents my behaviour will always be a pretence. If it's always pretence doesn't pretence become real? Or will my knowledge of it being pretence change the deal? But then again how long before I start believing it too?

It's a long borne heartbreak. Only that can make me think these same thoughts. Again and again. A heartbreak that has been both happening and in the making for years. Like my articulation of these thoughts on a public forum.
But then again, no one reads this anyway.

First entry. Blah. To all. Yes, you too. Don't stare. It's just words.

I write, but I don't write. I be here to comment on stuff. Not very knowledgeable comments, but the comments of any reader count,if ya ask me. Yessir.