Shit. I’m still antisocial. I still don’t like people, in general, very much. Not good. What this means for my future, I can’t say, but it doesn’t bode well that I’d rather sit in the darkness and stare into nothing that have a conversation with a living, breathing human. Why? It’s just so tiresome having to deal with another mind in my own “mindspace” or whatever one can call it.
Other stuff: there are so many innocent people in the city. The scary thing is, I may be one of them. I can never tell. I have to get out of here — it’s eating my future. It, it, IT, IIIIIT. I will become a monk and break heavy canes across my bleeding back. And the coffee will be good. Shit.