giant tanks of anesthetic
i could not stay away for long.
how can i commit to this stupid white box of words when i can't be certain about anything else?
the surprising and strange answer that occurs to me is that the white box is myself.
it's not that i'm highly devoted to myself, it's just that i like to talk about myself.
i'll stop saying "myself" now.
i tend to lose some of the things that make me comfortable. actually i tend not to lose any such things, except for one sort.
i might even become totally content if i had it.
well, i'd still like to have a car.
but this is not a worthwhile place to be. or is it? why do people object so much to the idea of people living a big meaningless illusory life instead of a "real, meaningful" one? what's so wrong with the matrix?
this is not to say that i like the idea. i think it's kind of creepy. because somebody's controlling your life and you don't know it. but, from an objective, analytical, scientifical standpoint, if you were happy, then why not? i'm not even sure why i am so uncomfortable with the idea.
so, i feel like puke cos it's late, i'm going to go.