Submitted by deadresonance in thoughts

I want someone to pet my head and tell me it's already alright. That I did well today. That the things I did wrong were correctable and totally reconcilable. That all the people who left weren't the end of successive worlds. That success isn't really possible, and so neither is failure. That it's still worth it to care about the people who collide with, that I'm actually good for continuing to try to, I want you to fucking whisper that gutturally in the crook of my ear right before I vomit a pureed candy powder over the splitscreen multiplayer screen. I want to scream at everyone who correctly encouraged me to move on from this or that utter waste of time idealistic endeavour. I want to feel vindicated for choosing human relationships over status symbols, even while my standards were nonexistant. I want to be a left wing revolutionary communist, but like all the others beside me I remain just a cynical stock ROM, paranoid of being Flashed.

Whether I can get out of this reductive consciousness and into the rest of the universe is the defining question of my lifelong adolescence, and the answer I see reflected around me is definite. Given the failure of mass politics, of micropolitics, of anti politics, of the death of the sense of a working class public, and of the fracturing nonsense characteristic of aesthetic based distinctions, the closed doors and burning bridges both literal and metaphorical...I hear a resonant "No".

The twisted metal of this place has begun to melt; a powerful force compels its incineration. The warmth and tenderness of years ago has turned to rust, which will poison the alloy left behind, thankfully.

I feel very good about her choice to send myself a love letter, and will probably return the favor soon.

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