Am I dumb?

What is wrong with me? This wasn't what I meant to write? Why is my mind so ... scattered? Why is ... my life ... like a river that flows by ... like a bad movie I don't pay any attention to? Why am I always like zoned out ... and end up somewhere I didn't mean to be? Or think I could be?

Why is it that I have a plan, an idea, just I so something completely different and then look back somewhat regretful over ... how lost I got?


Why is it that I ... uh, kind of know what's important and what to do - just for it to completely slip past me once the time comes to actually apply any of it?


Maybe there's just too many words. Maybe there's Narcissism. Maybe I just like to hear myself talk ... just in written form. Like ... subconsciously preventing myself from moving past ... whatever I'm stuck in.
Do I lack honesty? With myself?
Am I too ... careless? Too accustomed to the idea that however I end up wherever, it's somehow going to be alright. As in "part of the plan" - whatever that may be?


And right now. It would seem like I had something on mind - maybe I did, it kind of seems that way - but yea, why even bother?

It's the same thing. It seems. Like, all this is is just performative. Like it doesn't actually matter what I'm writing - the end is all the same. Somehow at first it makes sense - or not - whatever. Maybe I'm cheerful or depressed. But eventually, things just return to where they were before.


Within reason I would assume that the problem is that my emotional conditions don't necessarily align with a sober observation; And that messes with me. But ... what am I even doing anyway?

Like, is it a problem? A problem of what? What am I trying to solve? Time passes by ... and that's all there seems to be. I keep getting older; Apparently ... nonethewiser. Which is maybe unfair ... but that there doesn't ever seem to be a point to anything is anyhow part of the problem. The ... problem ...? Do I have problems?


Like ... actually?
I mean, it seems to me that my actual problem is that I'm ... seeing them everywhere. So yea, people have problems. I have problems. But ... nothing like ... really troubling.
Which is the other thing. It's like I'm in some ... gilded cage. Maybe more like Silver and Platinum. I'm just fine. That's like ... well. It would be a cosmic reality if it weren't also that I'm not fine. Starting with the near every day per year runny nose I'm having. Now it's cold, so I have a cold. Then it's spring, so I have hayfever. Then it's summer and I have a clogged nose. Then it's fall and I have hayfever again.
Sure, sometimes my paper-tissues per day week is larger than other days; But if I wouldn't reuse them until they basically fall apart I'd be like ... buying mega-packs every other month. Apart from the few where I can basically manage without.


But I'm fine. ... or am I?
I recall that my whole point here was going to be that I am actually NOT fine!

So yea. Would have been ... silly if I had forgotten. But on point? Yea, but silly. I mean, whatever the case, ...


So yea, what does it even mean to be 'fine'? There are lots of things that are going well for me. And all the things that don't - aren't that big of an issue. At least ... within a given bubble. Like, ignoring that I might have any ambitions that extend beyond my own private sphere.

So, I do feel like I'm a prisoner, maybe?
A prisoner of time? Circumstances? The world? My ... shortcomings?

In reality ... I wouldn't really know what to do. Now, apart from what people might give me ... or, the facade of this cage - I don't know. It's like ... fine ... I guess?


But then again ... this doesn't make me feel better. I don't feel fine! ... But ... I suppose ... I worry too much.


... [grumbles] ...




The thing is ... I'm sick of being here. This world ... I'm so fucking done with it!
But maybe that too is just an illusion. A prison for our minds ... keeping us ... scared and complacent. Anyway ... it's sad ... that ... all my labour hasn't really led to anything so far.
I think it's because I'm crazy. Like ... yea, sure ... I might say some smart stuff every now and then ... but I also kind a say a lot of dumb shit. Or stuff that could easily be seen as such. That's like ... my biggest problem. Yea. That ... maybe I should not try ... err ... try to not say thing that would make me look like an absolute maniac. But then again ... I suppose a lot of that is also not even a thing. I mean ... there's selective perception and suggestive reality.
I'd assume that I'm not supposed to be victim to this whole nonsense ... but then again ... I don't think that this could ever happen by not stressing some crazy stuff every once in a while.

I mean - I'd put it as: Once people spot patterns it's easy for them to grow accustomed to them. Rely on them. And beyond a certain point ... . I mean ... I figure that I reject to be a leader because ... once people rely too much on me having all the answers, nothing has been won.
And there isn't a big difference between whether I'm actually divine or just believed to be.


I don't like it either way. And maybe ... it's for my own best that I'm ... a little bit crazy. Yea ... let's ... just ... say that. That's fine!

...