soliloquoy

I hate my life

a passenger in my own stream of experiences

uncaring epoché: the suspension of judgment

lack of appetite; ambition; wager, or sexual

no sense of desire to arise in the morning

self-contempt and facile compromise/backlash

I forget my age sometimes

the way, my face is, supposed to look, beyond 17-

a complete dissatisfaction with any sense of normalcy as lived,

the lack of desire correlated with lack of any hope for/or positive qualitative change.

the accompanying sickening horror of knowing

it is all past, contingent, potentially disappearable at

any moment if only I had a choice

If I had a choice = if I could know a way away.

January 17, 2010

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