glatað, mama
lost we may be,
I choose to dream in sine-saw waves
and the goodness that the average person is capable of.
and sharing sugar or milk with strangers.
orange kitties,
and cinnamon, oatmeal, or gingerbread cookies.
those ones mom used to make.
snickerdoodles?
not a single dream of violence!
never real violence.
accidental, if ever.
I have followed all of the rules of this country
except for one
and that was using my brain, somehow, some way.
is it right for others to compare me or some of my best friends with |||||||||| when we are just trying to exist in our own way in this world that we all have to exist in together?
expressing myself authentically feels like it is going to be a crime
when I KNOW
we've been working, all of us normal average people,
to try to have a better society
than we've ever had before.
How could I pretend things were okay for so long?
Was it pretending for my own sake that this reality is normal?
I reached a boiling point.
I couldn't live in that delusion any longer,
I cannot still block out the truth of reality or disconnect,
I absolutely will not be able to keep this fragile mask on forever,
and I cannot continue to pretend to think that
the way things are going is right or normal or moral or sustainable anymore.
please make the violence stop.
please help us get the violence to stop.
there's plenty of it in nature already,
we don't need to manufacture more
reasons to hate and kill and torture more people
and this beautiful earth
every day forever for the sake of the already-powerful.
we do not need to continue building or using their torment nexus.
that's THEIR dream.
scientists and artists can improve society quite significantly
without constantly wasting time developing weapons of war
or chatbot therapists.
lost in thought again.
just a little example of what
depressing scenarios my brain can come up with
on a daily basis
I am made to produce art of sadness. I love to do it.
guided by all I've learned,
I have made it so this night on January 2nd, 2026.
it's really not a huge deal,
but I've suffered in permanent effervescent silence for the convenience of maintaining "normalcy," concerning this enormous white lie
it's like starting from scratch again for the fifth time before even baking the first batch.
I'm always so afraid of the future and obsessive over my current desires.
excited over new possibilities.
pining for brave new worlds.
I'm so afraid to lose anything or anyone I have.
the more upset among them having been deceived by the promise of a
dream faraway cast by lonesome pilgrims long ago,
in this modern world that's very obviously driven by death
and death and death and death forever.
we are lost as a species if we cannot cooperate to end the suffering.
I've been listening to the songs you told me to
listen to
for aeons in my soul.
will you allow this songbird to fly, even if you don't like the launch bay or landing pad they've scheduled the flight for?
can I really be the child who helps to take care of you some day?
no wonder PC was the character from bojack that I related the most to.
please, please, watch my favorite show. I know it's stupid. But.
you guys would understand me so much better.
just some breadcrumbs. love you, mom.