It feels so fucking icky. I feel everything related to finding work and presenting oneself to find work fucking degrading.

Who does that? What if they do everything right and it doesn’t work and then it turns out it’s my fault?

Love that food photography style. Two tiny twigs of parsley draped on those huge vulgar sausages. Everything green is somehow greyish.

What did you have for dinner? I had pizza.

So why did you write that whole wall of text and feel attacked by my nonsense?

Couldn’t read it all. Felt like there was a lot of repetition. Any way you slice it or not slice it at all it’s hopeless. There’s no mystery no knowledge no epiphany that frees you from your reality. so there’s no need for anything. You experience it. You can judge or you can leave it. Can you even choose. No difference. So with that knowledge nothing changes. You still suffer you still do whatever. Is that the point?

I really feel that. It’s so fucking hard to get going and get going regularly. Was running at least once weekly no matter the weather. A couple of weeks getting sick and this and that and it’s like starting from scratch