In that moment, Aunt Vida looked like an abandoned child, and I hated her husband, my favorite uncle.

Firstly, forgive me, today I am not in my right mind to craft something beautiful and poignant that flows well and guides you from point to point without you seeing the connection coming. We shall be a bit scatterbrained, though I mean, as we all understand, I’ve definitely always been a bit uhhh…. troubled.

So, let’s begin today’s confessional.

// There’s something in my apocrypha for everyone who touched my life in some way. Whether I’ve mentioned your name or the town I know you from, or used a picture of you or a line you told me once, a memory we made together, in the very URLs of the journal entries. I plan for it to be here for as long as I can possibly run it but obviously I won’t be around forever, I do hope someone will archive my words (and solve my riddles) somewhere for two reasons.

1.) I’m speeding towards 26, and then that infamous year that has haunted me since middle school. When I was a kid, I wanted to be really famous, so a lot of people would be sad when I died. That’s true -

WAIT- a memory returns to me. My wife and I always had such morbid things in common as you know. Once I talked about how when I was a teenager, I planned to live on basically a water diet for a few weeks, and then eventually not even water a few days before I killed myself, because once I learned that when you die you shit/piss on yourself, my ego really latched on to and hated that idea, to the point of not letting me go through with it. It was important to me to leave behind a beautiful corpse. Anyway, my wife looked at me the way she would do with a smile that revealed their true nature, “me too”.

Do you know what it’s like to be with someone who’s shadow is as dark as yours? Imagine letting the worst parts of yourself be freely seen, and more than that BE LOVED!! Can you understand my attachment?

They used a fake name on the dating app we met on, “Aiko”, I never questioned it much. A year later I would read a manga they seemed particularly keen on “Oyasumi pun pun” the main character’s love interest was also named Aiko. My wife had said and done a lot of things similarly to Aiko in the manga.

But I digress.

I wanted to mean something to a lot of people, I think nowadays I do, and that people would have nice things to say about me I think. I hope. So, sum = 9 approaches, and fast too. The payments for my website are automatic, but eventually the money will run out in my account, and it will disappear. Tears in rain etc etc. I hope that everyone gets the messages I left for them in these entries before it disappears.

2.) “Sometimes your writing is like reading something about myself and I'm like hold up wtf????”

A reply I got on twitter about these entries. Yes indeed. I had abandoned the journal, and then I was introduced to some of Sylvia Plath’s writings. Particularly one about feeling as though if she could just live by the sea, everything would be alright. I felt it was such a specific (of course not, there is nothing new under the sun) and poignant feeling, that I don’t quite understand why but it really made me feel so wonderful to see my very own thoughts and sentiments written out by another person. I wasn’t alone in my darkness there was someone who’d come and gone long before I, expressing the very same things. Of course, the mildly upsetting part is, every time I experience this with an author, it turns out they ended up sticking their head in an oven, or throwing themselves in the river ouse. How worrisome.

“Will they also say of me that I was undoubtedly much more sensitive than most people to the general beastliness of things happening in the world today?”

Perhaps Kincaid, perhaps.

So, if my work can be preserved to give anyone else that same burst of feeling connected and understood, something good would have come from these miserable and splintered musings wouldn’t it?

In truth? I’m afraid I’m destined to end up the same way as those writers, I’ve felt that way since I was a child. It’s always made sense to me, it’s always agreed with my…… myyyyyyy

what would I call it? instinct for rightness? sense for truth? something like that. I feel I just know when things are true, inherently. I was talking with one of my lovers as she described growing up mormon, and how she never bought any of the shit they told her. I in turn, described how I absolutely believed it all to the point where I was “throwing hands with light skin justin because he said humans werent made out of soil”. So in fact, I am an idiot, incredibly naive, very gullible, and easily swindled, but this is only the case when I argue against this sense yknow?

Of course I’m probably just crazy but sometimes I’ll hear things and they just resonate properly, other times its the opposite. When the words of one holy man declared to me that it was sinful for one man to share a bed with another, I stood up and walked out of his church. Not out of self interest or preservation, I had no clue about my own sexuality at the time, I simply knew he was a charlatan. This was confirmed later when I met him face to face some time later, He had this aura about him, he seemed to be glowing, I was star struck. I can’t explain why, but it was immodest, it was something to distract, to swindle, in the same way the bible itself says the anti christ will be very entrancing to those who lay eyes upon him (oh god I’ve really lost it haven’t I?? I mean look at these fucking inane ramblings!!!)

Today, half asleep and trying to make sure I didn’t fuck up the cake donut batter, I heard the worlds of another holy man “When god wills a creature to die in some plae, he causeth the creature's wants to direct him to that place”

“This is correct” said the sense. I spent some time thinking about my unquenchable wanderlust. Where am I going? where will I be satisfied? where will I want to stay still for once? where am I meant to go and die”

a memory-

in the kitchen with mom

• a memory within a memory, a memory of a dream actually, a dream that unironically happened within a dream, we can go one more level below about a memory of another layered dream like that but it’s not worth it. While I was in the hospital, I had such a vivid dream within a dream, I was in germany but I made it back to boston, to my mom’s kitchen. A woman was delivering a package from Amazon, I asked her if she could see me, but it seemed she couldn’t. I could feel the cardboard box, I mean I was really there! I asked my mom if she could see me, she said yes. She hugged me for a really long time, to say goodbye.

were back up three levels, to PRESENT DAY, PRESENT TIME

My mind is fraying, I really have to hurry and wrap this up before it takes me.

“quick, look through the texts I sent you!”

we pay for the violence of our ancestors, it is unavoidable

What does that mean? what were we trying to express?

I don’t remember

gold, and beautiful women, both are rather common on this earth actually

and yet so much violence over them? something like that. Oh gods I’m losing it!

I haven’t slept- I!

but there’s so much more I want to say…

Till next time I suppose.