I don’t know what this is going to be, but nothing conducive no doubt. You see, I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Like a bad kid. A son who is much to be desired. I could be so much better and yet... I’m not. Sometimes it’s like I don’t even try. I haven’t seen my mum in weeks because I’m spreading myself so thin between everybody else. Just had a bit of a cry about that actually but I’d never admit that to anyone in person. I don’t cry on people. Three years with my boyfriend and he’s never seen me cry. It’s an ugly affair that nobody should be subjected to. No one needs to see that. The snotty nose. The pot-head pink eyes that make people think you smoke heavy on the doobies. I’ve never smoked in my life but boy have I cried. It’s weird, actually. I cry all the time, just not in front of other people. I’m a very emotional, needy, grumpy person. 50% anger, 50% tears. That’s a good tagline actually. Sums me up perfectly. Fifty Percent Tears. New rap name, perhaps? Let me know what you think. I’d love some feedback on that. See, my problem is that I’m shit at communication. I’m the personification of Donald Trump and the Russian Collusion. Nobody knows who the fuck did what or why, but everyone knows something happened. I can vent my feelings but not directly to a living, breathing human being. It has always led to upset, from being very small up to being a twenty two year old man. (That’s now, by the way). It has always been easier to keep everything inside, bottled up. Then one day the bottle smashes, I have a little mental breakdown and end up gluing all the bloodied glass back together again. That’s me. I’m a bloodied, infected glass bottle that is barely translucent anymore and absolutely coated in disgusting, sticky, claret adhesive. I’m stuck on somebody’s top shelf because I’m impossible to polish up but they can’t bear to throw me out for some reason. Anyway, I told you I had no idea what this would be. Make your life what it needs to be for you to get by.
Signed,
Elijah.
Meta Sentience.
21/5/2019
