The fuck is wrong with me? Bad chemicals acting up again. I never should have strayed from the Prozac. Three days of feeling down and empty and like I don’t exist. Then, suddenly today I now am full of rage that I’ve just been screaming into a pillow like some animal. I feel like I don’t know who I am. I have no identity. I have no direction. All I want to do is scream and destroy my room. Can this all just be chemicals? Where was the sunny me a few days ago, enjoying his coffee and listening to music. Watching the Harry Palmer movies. Having a mellow good time with myself. How can I just abruptly become so despondent. Maybe I should forcefully change my life. Look for someone who needs a roommate in New York. Be forced out. No. I would be isolated somewhere else. I FEEL LIKE A MARIONETTE PUPPET!!! LIKE I HAVE NO STRINGS. NOTHING ABOVE KEEPING ME UP. JUST TIME AND GRAVITY KEEPING ME IN THE DOWNWARD SPIRAL. I don’t believe in time anyway. Just a construct to measure Space. What do I want to be. A man who has a good woman. A man who makes money. Now, I am nothing. Just another demolished man buried under sand dunes. No one sees. No one cares. No one will understand. I will never understand myself. I have no self. I’m a blank space. I’m not here. You’re not reading this. I am not typing now. This is not helping me. I am not here and neither are you. I’m the tube. I take in and put out. I take in and I put out. I am not human. I am a bug blinded by the taillight it’s attached to.