the end is very near. the only thing that keeps it from being even nearer is my fear, but eventually, that will be eclipsed by the despair, and that will be the end of it. I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m not dreading it, either. it is what it is, and I think, really, it was what it was going to come down to in the end, no matter what. I thought I escaped it, and for a while, I had — but there’s nothing more powerful than a global financial crisis on the heels of a pandemic.
that being said, I hope all anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers go through precisely what I am right now.
I don’t have to pretend to be a good person; I know I’m not.
and I want those fuckers to burn, because their bullshit burned my life.
no mercy for wilful ignorance, I fear.
Wings has finally met its end, or at least something very like it. I’m too tired to pretend that I don’t care that nobody cares. I’m too tired to pretend that I’m not hurt by the grown-ass men/women acting like fucking highschoolers and using people like tissues or starting shit “behind your back” (it’s not exactly behind my back if you post it publicly and we move in the same circles, you gutless wonder) or being called all sorts of names by hysterical yesterweb cultists because I can’t read their pixel font webshites.
I still love to design, and coding is still a balm, but this shit? This shit is hell. Maybe there’s a sphere for me in the creative web somewhere, but I’ll be fucked if I know where it is. I’m so sick of the high-school drama in the hobby, ESPECIALLY if it’s being perpetuated by creepy hypocritical 40-year-old university professors. (oh, I am not even fucking KIDDING. email me and I’ll name names. I could not give a fuck anymore if I tried.)
I’m sick of everything, honestly. I’m sick of being a sounding board (more like punching bag), I’m sick of being everyone’s second choice, I’m sick of physical pain and migraines that are so bad I vomit blood, I’m sick of rain, I’m sick of this shitty, shitty caravan, I’m sick of not having hot water or a toilet or shower or an oven to cook something that isn’t two minute fucking noodles, I’m sick of being unable to sit up for more than five minutes without being in intense pain which means I can’t concentrate on shit, I’m sick of this shitty internet connection.
I’m only alive rn because I’m too chicken to take the final step, but like I said, eventually, it will happen, fear or not. the human spirit is like a taco; you can only stuff so much suffering into it before it breaks entirely.
can’t stop what is on its way
and i see it coming and it’s on its way