i know thats probably the name of a thoreau essay, or something, probably a million other essays too.
well this isnt one of those.
sometimes i just need to shut the shit down.
sometimes i just really need to be alone. not doing errands. just playing around. not with anyone either, not with anyone i know...
thats when my imagination goes... goes free... fires up... thats when i can forget myself entirely, forget who i am, my life and my triumphs and my troubles and abandon my fiery EGO...
it drives me crazy and agitated and exhausted. and then, i take the time to shut the shit down. without a clock. without the phone. and then my mood just lifts, poof, magic.
i cant live in constant "reality." because it's not fucking real, anyway. its one lens. and its highly absorbent. maximum absorbency selfpads.
thats why, thats why, thats why. i cant live any other way. i have to lose myself.
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