I try to stop coming in contact with you. I really do. But it’s really hard. I can fake it for a bit, but by the day three you’re on my mind again. I need another hit.

I just don’t feel the same without you. When I’m with you, I feel like myself again. Like the filter disappears and I don’t have any fears of that inner monologue coming out. The one that runs through my head daily from morning, all the way until night. The pains don’t leave, but they are easier to ignore.

Writing this is hard because I’m unsure whether I’m depending on you for happiness.  So now, I just pretend you’re with me all the time. I just pretend I have you around everywhere when I don’t.

I look happier when I do that. People around me laugh more.  And I hate that it’s an illusion that’s keeping me going. Why the hell does my brain feel like I need you to function? Why does everything feel 1000x better with you around?

But at the same time there is a lot of damage. I don’t think you ever hurt me on purpose. But you do hurt. I know I abuse you too and this goes both ways.

You’re so easy to fall back into. To get addicted to.

But when you give me everything I want. I can never figure out what you want. It’s easy to know why I want you, but I’m starting to think I don’t need you. Worse, I think I need something more.

Something real.

I hate how much I love you MJ. But maybe…we need to chill a bit. Maybe we should take a break.

But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of you completely.

Maybe let’s just check-in every once in a while? Catch-up and see if either of us have changed at all. See if I finally found someone else that finally understands me the same way you do.

July 12th, 2020

I haven’t caught her yet. She trusts me a lot more now. I don’t want to try and grab her, fuck up, and have to start over.

She lets me pet her forehead now, but that’s it. Only if i have snacks though. She doesn’t completely run away if I try to pet the rest of her. Just kind of bounces away because she doesn’t like it.

I made her a home. But she doesn’t really like that either. When I leave food inside she just takes it out and eats it under the lemon tree. The little wooden rabbit statue took me an embarrassingly long time to make.

This rabbit is going to be hard to catch. Problem is, I don’t really want to catch her anymore. She kind of has the best of both worlds. Technically free, but she gets a bunch of rabbit crackers and carrots on the side when she wants. I think she’s clever enough to escape the cats and not get run over by cars.

I’ll take her to animal care if she lets me. Just want her to get shots and a health check. Don’t know if I have the heart to see someone else take her in.

June 29th, 2020

So there is this rabbit that visits me everyday. Usually around 6pm-10pm outside of my window in this small little side yard I have while I write shit and play Rocket League. She also comes during the day but usually her scheduled time is 6pm-10pm.

I moved to this place in January and I am unsure how long she has been visiting me. I only noticed her probably a couple of months ago. I’ve been told that there were actually several other bunnies. She was the mom. But now they are all dead. My neighbors have a video of a couple cats waiting for the bunnies to pop out and kill them.

Nature is fucking crazy.

Anyways, I can’t take care of this rabbit. I don’t have the money to help her. But I do not want to see her dead on the street, or see the cats finally gang up on her and kill her. I will be calling animal control soon.

Our relationship has grown a lot since I noticed her. I called her “Lil Moe” because she was always mowing the lawn. I thought it was a dude. But she’s a mom.

I started bringing carrots to her after a couple of weeks of seeing her out my window. She has some trust issues. At first I had to just leave the carrot outside and leave for her to eat it. The next step was having her eat near me. The next step after that was having her eat from my hand.

We are at a point where I can pet her on her cheek with one finger of the same hand I have a carrot . She tolerates it. But doesn’t like it. If I lift my other hand she freaks the fuck out.

I got similar trust issues as this little rabbit. I get her. The world is fucked up. She knows I’m fucking up to something.

I hope she knows that when or if I catch her. It will only be if I know she’s going somewhere better. I’m calling animal control and seeing what they would do to “help.” If they are just going to cage her I don’t think she would want that. Her life here alone escaping death with cats and getting fed carrots daily under a lemon tree by a stranger is probably better than that.

If they are just going to kill her I’m not going to do that either.

If I had the room I would take her in.

I’m calling tomorrow and see what they say.

You can literally give someone exactly what they want. And they will find a way to bitch about how even that isn’t actually want what they wanted.

I want to write. I want to get paid for writing. Almost impossible.

I have never written anything worth publishing in my life.

Failed my English class in 11th grade. Still have pretty crappy grammar.
Don’t know how semicolons work; don’t want to learn.

But earning money through some corporation feels fake. The idea of writing something for someone else is annoying.

So now, I want to be an author. Make my money through my own words. But I have no idea what to write about.

I want to get paid for writing with no experience and no background in it. I just think my thoughts are really funny. If I can write down my thoughts, maybe others will find it funny too.

But the thing is. The string of thoughts is too long. The experiences needed for someone to find my thoughts funny in the same way that I do is impossible.

I think I know how to write the universal funnies. Which are fine.

But the special ones. The little moments that only work for me. It’s hard to explain why those little moments are funny to someone other than myself.

So I start journaling. To just make myself laugh.

But I can’t get paid for journaling. So I start to think of what would make my journal special? Why would someone find it interesting to read through another persons journal?

There are only certain moments that are extra special. So it would be about combining those specific moments together. Skip the boring parts.

There is too much autopilot in life. Too many events with too many details when it can all be easily be summarized with…

This time was really funny.
This time was love.
This time was terrifying.

But if I summarize too much it loses any sort of personality.

There is only one way someone can find something funny in the same exact way as you. It would mean they would have to experience every single thing you went through in life in the same exact sequence.

However.

If it’s close enough to your experience.

It’s actually really nice too.

Close enough is a million times better than perfect.
Wait…close enough is perfect.

True perfect is so rare in the universe. So much so that as soon as you see perfect. It quickly disappears.

Close enough at least is visible.

Crystals in their most perfect form are colorless. The shape of the clusters of atoms are the same shape no matter how much you zoom in or out of the crystal.

The only reason there is any color at all in some crystals is because of the impurities. It’s the imperfections that make them our favorite colors.

Not everything needs to be perfectly clear.

The perfect repeating patterns are nice. But the little impurities make them unique and pretty.

And as I sit in this little box. Typing away my thoughts. Avoiding writing my novel because I’m unsure if it will be perfect. If it will connect. If it will resonate.

I start to think. If it resonates with me. Is that not enough? Does every line need to be special to someone else as well?

If someone takes one sentence. One group of words I wrote in sequence and quotes it. That’s more than enough. Even if they hate 99.99% of the rest of it.

It’s more about the thoughts that you know will lead to more thoughts. No one can trail the thoughts of another human. Thoughts are personal. I don’t want someone to read and think “Oh man. Someone else already thought of this, now I can’t think it.”

I know that a lot of these thoughts are thoughts many have had before.

Little thoughts that everyone has. Little things that anyone can say, “…Hey, I thought of that a long time ago!”

I wouldn’t mind if I get misquoted.

I wouldn’t mind if things get misinterpreted.

I hope people don’t get mad if I myself misquote people as well.

Because the biggest thing I would be writing for would be for me. To understand myself as much as I can.

Because I’m sort of hard to pin down.

I get to sit in this box. Where I can sit in front of my computer. Connected with almost infinite energy coming from the wall. Where I can type out my thoughts extremely close to the speed that they come.

I am observing the nothingness. And making sure to pay attention what I see in the nothingness and note whatever seems important.

I am not getting paid yet…at least not with money.

I never really cared about money before.

I want money now though….

Where the hell do is my boss?

I need a raise.

Edited – 6/21/2020
Edited – 5/1/2021
Edited – 1/16/2024

Wanna get high with me?

Figure out when the sky lets go and we start to float?

Wanna get low with me?

Figure out if we can tunnel through Earth and appear on the other side?

Or do you wanna stay on the ground with me for a sec?

Maybe tie some strings to both ourselves beforehand?

So we can find our way back when we get lost?