motivation: low.
capability: low.
libido: low.

libido isn't usually as low as it is, so that's why i mention it.

i had a dream that me and my gwa crush were bf/gf and that she kissed me on the cheek and said she loved me. and also in the night i heard the train horn blare from far away, and it was nice. it reminded me of the city, that there was life still out there outside of my stuffy little room, with two windows and a bed, and a desk that is covered with unread mail and game controllers and the medicine bottles i have yet to throw into my "to cleanse" barrel which has been leaking out onto the floor for some weeks now. i slept as i usually do, arms braced tightly around my body pillow, the case having been switched out for a fuzzier one to keep me warm through the colder nights, and with a fan on loudly enough to provide the white noise that prevents me from paranoia and just lightly enough that it only made the room a bit colder than the house's heat would have it.

when i first awoke i drank some water from a spare water bottle i kept around so to avoid having to leave my room to fill up my standard, and only just now do i recall how annoying it was yesterday evening when i would sit back down and bump the TV table it rested on with haphazard motions of my chair and it would fall and make a rumbling bounce and i would say "god fucking damn it this piece of shit again". i'd slid the TV table into my room before classes started, as i had planned to have my best friend over, and we'd spend some time in my room and the desk was so full of unnecessaries that i felt it imperative to make some room. the living room doesn't have as much privacy. but i got sick, and not with the big boy virus, but just with something that made her wary enough to stay away. i felt annoyed as all hell, but i'm an optimist, so i figured it would be over sometime soon. i'm still sick. we haven't seen eachother.

we would talk on discord and via the phone but she has things really bad in many many senses of the word and so i do my best to not impede her boundaries but her depression causes her to isolate herself and im never sure when ill be able to spend my next moments of precious time with her. maybe i have feelings for her. maybe not. but i still care about her so much and so deeply and so truly and i know she does too and i do my best to play it off but it pains me to think and watch and see her struggling in this way where she doesn't have the capability to stop herself and yet she can't seem to reach out for the same reason. i call and i text and shes told me to bother her all the time before but sometimes even that is not enough and i hope and pray for my illness to subside so i can walk the two hours to her house like i did once before to deliver food because she doesnt get enough food and i want to hug her and comfort her and i want to hope that she can be okay with being honest and true with me because she has issues all the time with being genuine because her mind tells her that everyone and everything is danger and dangerous and worse yet that's been informed by some of her experience and my heart bleeds for her when she comes to mind. so my heart bleeds. it happens.

when i first awoke i was bothered because i felt an errant hair on my neck, and it was too distracting to let me slumber, even when i imagined the yin to my yang pulling me tighter to her body with her monstrous tentacles in a warm sweet embrace i couldn't handle it and my fingers just grabbed the hair and felt it, so bothersome you wouldn't believe, i felt its root shifting beneath my skin and the surface i tried to snatch it between my nails and i failed fifty times before i decided to end the trial by getting up and huddling on in my sleepwear to the bathroom where i snatched the tweezers and tried to look in the mirror but the night light was too dim and my eyes were too tired so i felt for it and in a grueling tired second attempt i gripped the hair in the tool's metal claws and i pulled it out. i looked at what i'd done, and just to be sure i'd pulled the whole thing i slid two of my nails tightly across the surface of the hair, sliding up, and felt and saw remainders of the hair in their inky despoticness slide up with them. i discarded the blasted hair and flicked the remains from my fingernails and capped the tweezers and put them back into the minidrawer in the cabinet and i closed the minidrawer and i closed the cabinet and i trudged back to my room and i closed my door and i got into bed and i wrapped my arms around my pillow and i closed my eyes. i didn't touch my neck all night afterwards.
that's a lie. i touched it once or twice to feel if the hair was gone. it was.

i think a lot. maybe too much. last night when i first awoke after drinking water and pulling hair i couldn't sleep because i kept thinking of how well matt nathanson's "come on get higher" and the naked and famous' "young blood" would mash up together. i could sing them together. i have an ear for those sorts of patterns.
but i needed to sleep. so i had to put it down somewhere. so i reached for the pencil and the notebook on my TV table and i felt around for the pencil but couldn't find it and i figured it could have fallen into my laundry or the floor along with the water bottle. i had accidentally laundered my D&D dice and their bag the same way. they were a gift from my GM and his wife and the bag was as pristine as a dice bag could be and i treasured it even if it were only a few cents of fabric and a few cents of offshore labor. i found all seven of my dice - d4, d6, d8, d10x2 (d100), d12, d20 - and the bag still works, a bit, but it's damaged. i look at the bag and i feel the bag and the magic of its sheen of being brand new from my GM has been lost. but it hasn't been replaced by the warmth of a time-worn friend who has been by my side for years. it's simply... broken.

i play with online dice most of the time - my GM is in ohio - but it's profound how such an unimportant artifact can have such an effect on me. the dice are fine. but i failed the sanctity of the gift.

it could be worse. i had to flick on my lamp to see where the pencil had gone. or a pencil for that matter. it was wedged snugly where gravity had pulled it - beneath the tabs of a smaller journal that i also kept on my TV table. and so i flicked off the lamp, got back into bed, and hastily wrote:
Young blood N & F
Come on get higher
in my notebook. beneath what i had put there deep in the evening last night, "UP IN Flames", to remind me of the coldplay song to listen to at some point in the future, as it was too much work to reopen my laptop, and i didn't want to lose the sweet comment i wanted to post on youtube that i had started to work on on mobile and you can't go to other videos if you don't want to lose your comment on mobile. but i wasn't done with the comment. so i wrote the song name on the notebook and i listen now and it drags be just a bit lower into whatever melancholy pit i'd melted into that caused me to start this post and im not sure what to do. how he sings the flames it feels just like how i feel - i dont feel explosive or burning, but just maybe a bit of ember singing me away little by little and reducing me to ash that piles and is blown away by a slight breeze. i guess i might need a bit of help. but it's okay.

when i woke up later i had to pee and i drink a lot of water so i have to pee a lot. in the bathroom we keep a sudoku book and the early puzzles were way too easy so to introduce artificial difficulty i started to solve the sudokus by replacing the numbers with atomic symbols and increasing by 10 per sudoku, leaving the 0-ended element at the top. so far ive gotten to zirconium but i forgot what 42 is and i only just now remembered niobium so the sudoku remains empty. i saw immediately a place where i could leave a 1, but i remembered what i was doing and i had to refrain and my heart just wasn't in it to find out what 41 was and i finished and i flushed the toilet and i washed my hands and i dried them and i left the bathroom and i wanted to eat so i looked for something to eat but we didn't have much good stuff. i wanted something with chocolate, but we didn't have anything with chocolate. so i went back to bed wanting something with chocolate. but i had swallowed some frosted mini wheats and they were able to hold me back and it was alright. i would get chocolate later.

then so today this morning when i woke up next i made my hot chocolate drink that i make because i dont have regular coffee and it's hot chocolate powder and instant coffee and salt and cream and caramel syrup and hot water. but today my usual mugs were in the dirty dishwasher so i had to settle for an unfamiliar mug and it could have been worse but i like my usual mugs because they hold a lot of content and i already put way too much sugar in it so when i put the hot water in i get a lot of good product but this time i got only a fair amount of good product and had grains at the bottom because i had too much cream and not enough heat to melt all the particles and it could have been worse but it could also have been better. i was still drinking the chocolate mixture when i started making this post and then i finished and then i got distracted between this paragraph and the last and it's an odd thing to feel anything close to "bad" about but it amazes me that i can become so distracted that i end up distracting myself from maintaining my place in, once again, the melancholy pit that i had somehow found myself in, and ending up entirely apathetic and bored. i felt as if i was baring my soul in this post, even if it were only on the tedious events of the night, but now it feels as if i can no longer appreciate things from an emotional standpoint and can simply look at things with an entirely rational state of mind. and that usually this is the point at which i analyze my emotional response and try to figure it out. and this happens quite often, and it would be frustrating if i could be frustrated, but the idea of emotion has blanked out of my mind and has reached a point where i cannot analyze whatever emotions i had due to forgetting how to feel them. i feel as if this paragraph must thus be an odd change of pace from the past paragraphs because of how unfeeling and numb my current stream of consciousness is, and if i could feel anything, it would be, again, frustrating, because i knew i wanted to explore this emotion further. but i can't.

what i do know is that i wished to impart at the very least an interesting observation of quasi-anonymity: there is less of an expectation to adhere to certain standards of social conduct, even with close friends, when yelling out into the void. even my best friend who i'd mentioned earlier likely wouldn't understand whatever odd autistic aspects are inherent in my writing and feeling and thoughts, and if i were to send this to her directly, she would likely be overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information that she may feel a responsibility towards reading. whereas you, whoever you are, have taken it upon yourself to read and process my thoughts and experiences without any necessary obligation of friendship or companionship. just as i make the conscious decision to comment/message creators here that suffer that i wish them well, the freedom to do what you will with this information is in your hands. upvote, downvote, share, report, comment, message, anonymously respond, anything. i don't ask for anything, and i don't expect anything, so anything as a response is worthwhile to me.

thanks for reading, if you cared, and apologies for the stagnation. i do my best. now i'm off to find something to do to melt away this apathy. always ready to chat or message back if you want me to, too.

-"Randy"