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I think crying is more efficient, because we crave pity. Why? If you want to live a sane life, do not proceed. If you want to live a crazy life, only on my terms. My terms are this, leave me and my family alone. I'm doing this to connect with people whom I can truly relate to. I want to educate my family with reality's fickle distractions. Distractions are very fickle, that's why sanity hides that root of evil from sheep's conscience. We are black sheep. The crazy sheep. When everyone says, "I'm crazy" you fall into a group. Irony tends to be ironic.
"If you had a heart would you love me? <pressed play on the paused music> "Bah...!"
Crying exercises anxiety to bleed off with exercise. When I cry I'm not sad, I just cry really hard to exercise my anxiety. I have no emotion doing so. It's genuine tears mind you. I wish people weren't so broken. It's hard not to empathize with your enemy only if they are peaceful in their protest. Please don't be annoyed by my thoughts. Please use your empathy to ignore the consequences of boredom and irritation. I make smart thoughts. Short and sweet.
I invented a game called 'Jerk.' I'll explain more when I figure out the details.
I found out that 5mg of THC is a much better dosage for me. I don't have an dark thoughts. I'm taking breaks to ensure my tolerance remains low. You couldn't pay me to exceed 10mg. Not even for a billion dollars? That's right. Go fuck yourself. Reality is a distraction from crazy. Sure, a balanced life makes the case for reality as a distraction, but when it doesn't resonate I suffer in isolation. That's when crazy is the answer to the disease. Just a tiny reprieve. Don't break the law. Don't ruin your marriage. Just exercise your conscious and hope like-minded people develop a healthy interest in what you have to offer as a person.
I do NOT want to be famous. I like my privacy. I'd like to work behind the scenes as the "idea" guy. I'm good at ideas. I'd like to meet Elon Musk and tell him my ideas. Life is like pulling thistles. If you don't dig deep enough the root will snap off. Then you dig out the root as it grows deeper. By the time you grab the end of the root, you dug your grave; all because you couldn't tolerate a nuisance.
There's three things I pray for:
A friend. A job. Satan's tongue on a platter. Most of my friends I've either cut off or they've cut me off. I assume they have friends they can span time with. For me it's not really the case. In church this morning I was really emotional. I ended up listening to the sermon in the hallway pacing back and forth fighting back tears as my mind reigned in my attention dwelling on what ifs. As for employment, I doubt there's a job out there that caters to my unique skillset. As of recently writing has become a major trigger for dark thoughts; the likes of which rock my faith in the concept of certainty. It's my fourth day sober from weed, and I was craving it; if only to experience something different than what I am. The devil you know loves cowards. Praying is not enough, I have to act. I feel like it's easier to rebuild bridges than span greater cavities. I'm going to try and reach out again. I'm very desperate for friendship because those pacts fill gaps marriage and fatherhood can't supply. Nothing wrong with a little refuge. Alcohol is a curious path. Two wrongs don't make a right, but I'd rather be addicted to good times. How you get there is anyones fuckin guess. I'm definitely taking a few weeks off from weed. Today was a mess. I'm good now but nothing I did today settled me. Eventually I just meditated on the couch to soft music for two hours. I so desperately wanted to write jokes, but I overdone it. I never do more than 10mg of THC but I didn't take enough breaks. I usually write Mondays, Wednesday's and Friday's because those are the days I have to myself. I'm going to recoup and along the way I'm email myself funny or interesting observations so I can write about them when I start back up towards then end of May.
Cheers I'm on new medication starting this week. I'm hoping it works as my condition worsened a month ago. I'm unable to take weed anymore as the affects are akin to torture. Basically, it convinces me my son is not mine. It's absolute torture. Doesn't matter if I believe my wife, Satan takes my insecurity and uses it against me. Writing is my only outlet and weed accounts for 50% of my output.
I can write sober, but it will lack the fine touches that make my work pop. I've been writing heavily since the beginning of 2015, and I don't know any other way. I'm going to take a break from weed for a few weeks and see how I feel. I was writing jokes which I was super excited to do because I felt like I was starting to get a knack for the art. I've always wanted to be funny, but the price is just too high. I can't let Satan drive a wedge between me and my child. I just hope I can adapt. I love to write. I'm good at writing. I'm good at drawing, but most of my mythology is flushed out. I don't really have people to talk to outside of my parents. At least they are understanding. I gotta focus on something else, whether that's my health and/or my family's wellbeing. I guess I'm just going to do regular blogs. If I can think of something funny or creative I'll promote it within the site so it's highlighted. |
John Ralph TuccittoBlowing-off steam. Archives
August 2023
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