^ (n a v i g a t e) ^
10:35 p.m., 2003-11-06
i sleep in my clothes tonight because it affords me the illusion of vitality in the morning. it's that "where am i?" first-thing that, at least for a second, tricks me into believing that everything hasn't become so mechanized and stagnated that i resort to psychological warfare on myself to provide a reason to keep waking up, but i do. have the quality and novelty of my days become so lacking?i loathe the choices i've made.
i never thought that i'd believe that it's more than likely that my best days are well behind me. and i'm a burden on whoever will listen. i'm a social leper.
my vicariousness is such a little virus, sneaking up on my consciousness in a strange interplay i cannot ever fully understand. is it delusion? when i become aware of it does it cease to be? the whole construct never creeps any closer, as my steps are never laid. it thrusts itself upon me with a clumsy unbalanced burden and encloses me within it, unable to step away and approach it from a strategic angle.
for hours i circle and pace my memories -- foregone conclusions upon which i may base potentialities. but potentialities offer nothing of interest to me. i run myself in tightening circles, from another night trying to invigorate a semblance of liveliness to a descent into confusing debates within my mind as to the merits of dwelling on things versus moving on. it festers in this grubby cistern of a mind and leaves me with nothing to lean on.
in the morning i wake up already disgusted with the choices i will make based on the ill-advised ones i am constantly living down.
