hey guys it's me again lol

uh so im once again going on another stupid rant because i dont feel amazing and i guess idk i like "journaling" here bc i feel like whatever friends id have to turn to would either be too busy or not entirely receptive and thats not a bad thing i love my friends i just idk theres also something pretty nice about writing that lets one structure their thoughts better and i guess begging for sympathy online feels a little bit less lonesome than journaling in absolute private lmao

anyway i just idk i feel pretty like... not good

like so you all know me and executive dysfunction and all that. i blabber about it all the time. and i mean this is related but this is different.

basically so just even looking at the stuff i loved so much a few months ago (and i mean have not stopped loving) for today at least, has become an exercise in feeling cold rivers of shame and guilt slip their way through my arteries without running away and shutting out the demons and curling up and uh

well idk i guess it wasnt that bad but i just found myself pro-fuckin-foundly sad earlier this morning and just now this evening seeing the gwab stuff id usually be elated for like the october singers wrap up and the amas also hot damn so many amas lol fuck fuck... idk i just like uh it just sort of made me feel small. and not like in a way that i find hot bc thats kind of hot but not the point but idc. i just like... it put things into perspective that time will move on without me. and that my inability to work will never really be remembered. that as long as i have to suffer from the curse of inability, nothing will remain of me, at least in the record. just like most other things, ill just be dust in the wind in the end. dissolved and forgotten with the sands of time. that regardless of my influence in the recent past, time will go on as i amount to nothing and i will be forgotten. maybe people will vaguely remember the annoying guy who always put math questions into the amas. maybe people might vaguely recall the guy who always spiced his posts with a bit more sarcasm than necessary. maybe people may vaguely think about the guy who put out a few msub improvs and then fell off the face of the earth. what ever happened to that guy?

i do my best to hold on to things i care about, but when i fall into a pit like this my grip can start slipping. i recall the part of cumulogoddess's ama where she said she wants to know how veterans can keep going. keep making content. keep getting things done. i remember my reply, too. i figured if i asked a math question per ama, then i would have no choice but to stick around. and i forget if i said it, but i figured if i sang once a month, thatd keep me tied down too.

but, i guess. i didnt sing last month. in fact i didnt really do anything last month. and how excited i was, too. one of my favorite songs.

dust. sitting in my files is a raw version that i still have yet to edit, or even listen to. collating the tracks is so much work, and i dont even feel like my voice can always capture the feeling of the instrumentation. along with how much work it is to try to be the instrumentation. i think i touched it twice, maybe three times, after my first session when found out about the october topic. gone nowhere.

but the questions! yes. i have not stopped loving math. but my energy runs so dry, and it's not anybody's fault. i dont know how obvious it was, but my most recent questions were late and rushed and i felt awful. but i sent them in anyway. i still have yet to listen to now 2 ama's that i asked questions in. haven't even filled in the damn question sheet, either. those and the podcasts and stuff. i love that shit. but still. im one episode into the fapcast and backroom i still havent gotten to.

on the topic of questions. my favorite creator here had her cake day and did a q&a. i wanted to ask questions there. at least one. i care a bit too much about her, i think. my first or second audio was hers and i loved it, but what really pulled me in was her life struggles. im an empathetic guy, so that stuff breaks my heart. the one question, if i could have just one, would be to ask how she is. how it's going. to stay strong. to not be ashamed. to not let yourself be defined by that pain. to find peace. to know that you are amazing and perfect and i care about you even if im a random internet fuckface. a stupid prying overbearing random internet fuckface who made a reddit just to reach out and hope to be there for you. in case you felt there was nobody. that theres always going to be me.

but i didnt ask the question. i stagnated. and i waited. let time roll along. and let time roll me over. twirling, whirling into a telescope from which i look, so distant, even if just as distant as before, as the world goes on without me. life happens. it doesn't need me.

not even about me in particular. i dont care about me. i care about others. it may be unhealthy, but i think of my value and merit in terms of how i can help others. her being an example. another being when i saw that another creator i really liked had been through some (undetailed, but) awful stuff. i wanted to comment. give her my condolences. wish away the pain, if it would help. let her know i cared, too.

but i didnt. dust. i left the tab open. i saved the post. wanted to be sure i got to it. but i didnt.

that is where the real pain comes from. i want to broadcast to the world that i care and that i love and that i would really like to be there for all of you and any of you and anyone and everyone. but then my body decides against it. worse than failing grades. worse than dirty laundry. worse than overdue bills. a chance to give my love. dashed.

dust.

it's hard not to find life to be a spectator sport if you cant play sports for shit. i work my way through the motions all day every day. im passive by nature. i go with the flow. it happens. let everything pass by. i sit in the stream and i stick my arms out to feel the current. it feels nice. i love it.

but i dont do anything further. i cant, it seems. i could reach out just a bit further and try to catch some of the fish of opportunity. i could probably, i think. it's within arm's reach. but i dont. i cant, it seems. i let myself stay distracted by the smooth current. or, i simply can't stop myself.

and all the time i watch the fish pass by. if i could only reach them. if i could only get my hands to work the way i want them to. to stretch my arms. perhaps i wouldnt feel so unfulfilled. so... empty.

but still, my arms are in the water. and i mean i cant seem to move them. and they feel good in the water. i know i ought to move them. to get them to move towards some of those fish. some of the fish aren't even trying to avoid capture. but i mean, my hands feel fine in the water as it is. if i cant tell whether or not i can move my hands, why not just enjoy the water as it passes? why not let it happen? let it go?

let it all go? embrace "destiny"?

why get the fish? the fish are necessary, i say. but you've gone your whole life without having to go after them. why change now? why be motivated? why care? i need it. those are my obligations, i say. and then i try my best to extend my arm.

my arm doesn't extend. the fish swims by.

and so i am sad here. i sit at the center of the river only being able to accept the dead fish that find their way right into me, and survive off of those.

only to wait. to watch. as the river of life teems with possibility and i sit and stagnate and see all the fish pass me by.

and i erode.

dust.