i'm magining what my voice will sound like when i'm homeless and its depressing because even though i'm fairly well spoken despite being poor itd end up just sounding like any other london homless person. and everyone would look right through me, just as they do now. nobody understand mental health, or how it works. everyone thinks being cRAAAyyyyyZZZZZZZyyyyyy is just some generic thing that means you don't know what going on, that nothing you say makes sense, or that nothing you say matters, but its so ****ing far from that, usually poor mental health is accompannied by a regular clarity that you know something is wrong but you can't do anything to stop it. people just call you crazy. just another way to dismiss you. i wish I was ****ing dead, and maybe it's time to just get that done soon, actually. i'm not letting myself become a burden on family+friends etc and i can't make it on the streets. i'm too weak for that. maybe death will be painful but that;s not what ****ing M*A*S*H said. maybe they're liars though. ****ing robert altman.
Originally posted by Wonder Manannihilation
Scribble. Take a word you like and put it into practice. You know the impossible stone that has to be rolled up a hill. If you start with something you like to do and do it you’ll make even the impossible happen.
I have so many ideas, so many thoughts, nobody wants to engage me in discussion or collaborate on some literary work. Nobody wants to play music with me, or make a film with me. Nobody wants to explore somewhere new with me. Obviously nobody wants to **** me, that's fine. Neither do I. It's the other stuff I miss. Everything feels so apocalyptic, I wish it was. But it's just a slow death-crawl, and I have nobody to crawl beside. When I lag behind, nobody will turn to look, nobody will miss my presence, nobody will wonder where I went. I am an empty anti-shell, a lack of thereness, a void of being, no identity, no personality, no self, no life. Nothing, ****ing nothing, and I don't even know who to blame anymore because my thoughts are dead thoughts from a dead brain. Nothing I think is true but nothing I am is true so how can I even guess and what nothing I actually am? There's nothing left to compare it against. No nothing — no something, but also a lack of something, a lack of nothing too, nothing, no, not nothing, but nothing all the same. Unobservable, no trace remnants, no evidence I was ever really here, or that I existed, or that anyone ever cared about me in any meaningful way — if at all — and no way of knowing if I am even visible anymore. My body is dying, my soul is already dead, if such a thing exists. I don't think it does anymore. No god, no chance of salvation, no reruns or do-overs.
To think I've been playing guitar for 10 years and I can't even strum an E chord in accurate 4/4 time. What a ****ing waste.
Originally posted by Scribble
I read "if Rush goes to hell" and got real worried for a sec that Lifeson and Lee had followed poor Peart all too soon
Lol ha. Yeah, but it is funny to me I've seen many on the left celebrating, saying Rush is going to hell.
Legit made murals for violent drug addicts though 😆