There was a lot of lightning with the supercell in the Oklahoma Panhandle by Jake Thompson
My mind is telling me that you never really valued anything I've said. It could just be selfishness and jealousy or maybe it's because the only times you have ever wanted to talk to me was after a breakup.
Have I always been a pitiful distraction? Did you abuse the attention and revel in the admiration I gave you?
What the fuck am I to you?
Sophokles, from Elektra; translated by Anne Carson in An Oresteia
Text ID: I am already nothing. / I am already burning.
Maybe it was always just sexual. Maybe all the feelings and thoughts of you for the past 6 years have just been me being horny. What if all I wanted was to fuck you?
Guess I will never know
I don't think living with this disorder is easy but you do sorta get used to it after a while
I'm alone in the dark, my mind is too busy to sleep. My body is sick of rest. I have no motivation to jerk off. I have no reason to think.
But I had an interesting vision:
I'm standing just outside a forest. I am afraid to go in. I lean forward and part my hair down the middle and delicately open my head to allow my brain to tumble out. As it rolls into the dense shrubbery my body falls limp and pale having no further use. My brain is rumbling through the grassy floors with surprising momentum, the wrinkles of my brain allow for the smooth progression over any terrain such as the leaves and twigs and dead trees. It vaults over dirt and moss, even bisecting a line of ants with no signs of slowing down. Suddenly, my brain gently halts at the base of a red and blue tree. From the trunk of this tree emerges an average looking north American squirrel, it is curious and also unfrightened of my dirty and moss covered brain. It crawls down the tree then stands up and places it's tiny squirrel hands on my soft fleshy brain. This regular common squirrel gazes at my brain with almost childlike innocence and my brain gazes back with a sort of quiet approval. The squirrel begins to eat my brain. Bite by bite the sun trickles down and when the squirrel is done there's calmness and coolness through the woods. The sun is only an hour or so from dusk and there's the perfect seam where the sun's last flames makes love to the blue that brings in the black of the night. The squirrel takes a long look at the sky before returning to the trunk of the tree and the night hides everything away. The squirrel found peace that day, as did my brain.
Just to clarify, I was drunk when I sent that message the other day.
I wish I started drinking sooner in life, maybe then I wouldn't have been such a coward.
