Difficulty Settings [0007]
『06:47 – 05.Oct.15』
Or, “Space Where I Fill Textual Language That Sounds Profound, But Is Actually The Same Maturity Level As The Young Adult Book Section.” Here is where I was supposed to sound sincere about my life. Let my first attempt rest in peace.『Takes break to brush teeth, put in contacts, and fuck around in general (not in that order.)』
I have this problem when I write in my physical diary (still MIA, if you are keeping track) where I’m worried about the story’s composition and my diction more than I am chronicling the happenings of my life. As far as therapy goes, it becomes less cathartic and more dramatic and from a writer’s stand point, just really half-assed as a completed entry. The beginning starts poetic and then I start getting worked up, things get cray, I have an epiphany and then I wrap the thing up quickly and unceremoniously- emotionally exhausted from this attempt.
I’m doing it right now.
Before getting completely distracted, this post was going to be about how much I try to be miserable because it’s easier than caring. How watching Me and Earl and the Dying Girl made me feel inspired to create. Now, the house stirs. My brother is awake and the noise of reality is crescendoing and I want to do the things I’m wanting to do rather than journal the moment that got me there.
I’ve wasted another superb entry title.
If things go my way, (Past Rachel’s Way), I’ll come back and tell you how my Monday went. What steps in the right direction will I take today? What hang ups will I omit to keep from recalling how totally depressed I was when I wrote these entries (today I’m feeling pretty good… just waiting for the kickback).
Talk at you later.
『07:19 – 05.Oct.15』
Reposted from http://ift.tt/1FSjChv.
Tags: things I like about this post:, the weird quotation mark characters, the rambling, the self-referential layers of meta, the circle back to reference the title, the mystery of what the entry would have said, if the title's intention had been maintained, I hope it's okay for me to treat it as an artifact, and reflect on its larger meaning, separate from the inward-facing concerns of the actual human, whose life is more important, than my foolish distant dashboard thoughts.
