MYNAMEISABI is having a mustache party. Joining the festivities whilst at work!
It’s no secret that I have an entirely skewed perception on reality. Repetitive diatribe altering my thoughts. My thoughts altering my vision. I feel as if I’m constantly writing a story. Incessantly assuming what other people feel, think. I am attracted to everything that is beautiful and hideous. Visually, emotionally, spiritually. A leech sucking on life, watching everything die. Every moment that passes, death is closer than before. The mediocre just won’t suffice. A need to make everything more so than what it is. More beautiful, perfect, enticing. Making the disgusting, the ugly, more heinous.
It is far too difficult to be content. There is an unquenchable desire to create more. To do more to what already exists, starting with the surface, manipulating each layer, as if people, events, thoughts were visible sediment being analyzed under a microscope.
Just waiting for the moment I can infiltrate the core.
I’ve been feeling entirely insecure lately. I don’t fully understand, seeing as how I had made so much progress into finding self confidence. So, I refuse to revert back into old habits. Enough is enough.
My time here is such a waste. I am generally making the majority of my income here, doing things like this.
What is my life?
