Currently reading: Hackers & Painters: Big ideas from the computer age

I left out my response to the earlier email, which is the clincher: “Thanks. Good luck.” That’s it. Well, that’s all they got. Mom got, “I miss everything. Bleh.”as well and my journals got much more.

One thing I will never be is adjusted. Happy, sure. I’m often happy. It’s funny being told that they wouldn’t want to be someone sad, by the same person who once tried to convince me that it was okay to feel. Do I, perhaps, live in a far off alien world of feeling where it isn’t only conceptually okay to feel, but also to express how I feel? Is this the product of some sort of guilt about making a nice guy feel sad? Like it’s been easy before, because they were dicks, or because you didn’t give a fuck, but this guilt is all new to you and running away and sticking your head in the sand is the only coping mechanism you have left? Yes, it’s hard, I know. Life is hard. But if not now, when? If not living for this, than what? But yes, I know I am nice, and I know I deserve more than I get. Let’s just accept already that you’re not the first person to say that while walking away backwards.

Yes, my feelings are strong. No, it isn’t a phase. Yes, I’m going to keep talking about them.