The Nothing.

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I woke up early but stayed in bed late. Trying to avoid The Nothing. Took my medicines and had my coffee. Then was fine until just now as I’m writing this. I’m not depressed as much restless of the sameness. I wake up. Take my medicines. Sleep and on and on. I have no spirit in me anymore for the things I enjoyed. My play is staying unwritten. My job search is stymied at the moment. Already, the days is over and the same cycle will begin again. Routine is a friend, but not when you’re lonely. Let us see: I’m apparently handsome. I’m apparently a good writer. I am intelligent. I am good looking. . . said that already but why not say it again. I have all the parts that should make a social being, yet the inner components are not there. Alexithymia, which is my emotional blindness and constant confusion of myself and others has me lost, glassy-eyed and unable to form anything of substance for my social schema. Ever since I was young I was the flat expression, dead eyed, weird kid. I can muster the illusion of some life into me but it can be so tiresome. I can’t churn up charm and charisma. I see the masses and mostly feel superior to them. I shouldn’t. I’m not a great man. If I am a Man at all. It’s how I see the world. People being clowns, or stereotypes. Overly expressive to the point that I see and can’t believe their gestures. My inner emotional blindness makes mockery and suspicion of others outbursts and high gestures. I think, it can’t be genuine. I am not genuine. It is hard to be. I have already programmed the facial gestures and the tone and timber of my being. I am a facade. Just a constantly confused and lonely little robot trying to make fwends! Poor meeee!!! Anyway, writing this down has improved my mood some so I’m going to kill some NPC via my PS4. Love you all, I think. ❤

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The Nothing.

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