For once, I feel so strangely in place.
Still near-worthless. Still minimal. But now, the big difference is that I feel like I’m worthlessly existing in the “right” time and place.
This is a surreal existence. I’m here, and I’m not here. I shouldn’t be here at all. I’m half-gone. I’m blinking and fading in and out of existence.
I’m going through the motions as though I’ve deceived myself into believing I’m real.
April 9, 2025, drawing to a quiet close
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