Easy to read so lovable and a four minute read to be exact (yes I do believe the postman just came)

 It's so easy to press a few buttons. Much harder to get anyone to read or care. I don't have negative self-talk, but I guess this is an insecurity. I could be here all day and nobody would care. They have their lives or they've plans. Everyone's inner story changes to make them appear better later also. I guess that's lying even to yourself, or forgetfulness. It's not like anybody ever loved me except because no one ever did.

 There were these studies about indirect stimulation from like when people were directly or indirectly lookind at you. Well, guess I like to watch people with small amounts of simulation. I missed another live stream again from my fave celeb this morning but I was really at the end of my rope to get sleep... Almost everyone I met does some kind of live. Secret lover is a tech mentor of some sort so he's on calls. My friend I met on live.me whose moving to another country with another heartbeat. Pawned her phone because she got scammed about commodation there. Oh and this new friend who I've been watching play games on twitch. I used to have a live stream friend in California for many years but he went psycho and called me maga and other nasty schizo generic mean stuff. Not that there wasn't a facebook streamer in new york and a trubadour who also blocked and or savagely cut every contact on all platforms. I'm fat and I'm a witch. I'm creepy short, and my fingers are chubby. So what, so what. I am not the fattest and I have muscle too. My plants drink more water than me. I have skills. Basic skills. I will... watch you indirectly and be stimulated a lot!!!

But erm. I'm too much. A beloved child has many names. -Finnish proverb

Might have wear and tear on my right hip. Possibly from just sleep or carrying a bag on one shoulder too heavy... not that the world weren't on my shoulders too dragging me down. Yes I actually wrote that, it wasn't AI.

I wasn't edging but this morning I did quickly pleasure myself in a prone, position, panting  it out. Last time I did it was in my sleep. So, a while ago. It's natural sure but more like... an inconvenience. My imagination is good sure, I still thought of the act as r*ping myself to be honest. I can't remember the last time I watched pr0n. The need to procreate manifested as hope, as symbolic or platonic, as a straight jacket other people saw something I didn't. 

For twenty years literally running from guys until I bloomed. I was out of the league for that long. I yearn to fall in love again unrequited and just in the idea of someone... twice, or more years than... Waste my life on adoring and putting on a pedestal. Who wants it? I'll consider all pronouns this time since society has opened up to be more of a Disneyland of characters where if you believe to be a Minnie Mouse, it accomodates. A wizarding experience would be a bad comparison. Or Middle-Earth, since I'd probably be using technology this time. Not that 15 year old me weren't cabable of making a fan website.

It's not "looking for something casual". It's finding out your name, it's dreaming about you, it's thinking about your future. It's hope that there's someone for me who could potentially love me back, but without reservations. Maybe it's aromantic. I don't know. It's not a fat fetish. You cannot be just some farmer's boy this time who lands on a ditch before your window. To think of it, it could've been someone else who actually might've been better suited to like me but I never gave a second thought.

It's the Draco vibe. I need to find Snape without going back to school. I need to obsess over. Sounds dangerous since I'm going on about it. It just isn't weird. You don't need to know about it. I won't ask anything of you. I'll always be there for you. Unsexually, misunderstood, in love, worshiping the story that could never be. Sigh. That sounds nice. Familiar. A trope.

Fuck fucking. Fuck. Later I'm not sure what I've been thinking. Consent is pretty sexy, even if it's just for feelings. Love is a hard limit for me.

So yeah, I don't know. I don't want company in the flesh to carnal pleasures. I want your live. Your indirect attention. The stimuli. Not salty kisses. Not six pack abs or tall developer. Not like superfocus on all the attractiveness. I don't get that. I want destiny. I want... I. Like it's nobody's business. I reign this imaginary daydream cloud I'm keeping my boots on the ground. But it's me. So that's what you get. Myself am not a lot. The ideas carry me. Hopefully a mile away with someone else's boots. That's the enemy to lovers trope, I think.

But why write about such mushy stuff. Why not live life? Life is expensive. Life is messy. Life is result despite the dream. Life hangs as the backdrop and you pull on it. Lose your thread. Exhaust once in a while the burned threads. Cirle back down to whatever you used to do. Mindlessly stimulated, well, quietly, a good girl. Some logic to what you're 🌏 with. The inner world wobbles, rambles, creaks, the cloud lifts. Your brain's plasticity and body's homeostasis keeps you in balance. Just as impossible as everything else. Harmony. It attracts me because I can't pick things. When I do, it's probably the next fashion. 

Trends have turned into smaller, influencer sized bites of algorithms for everyone their own. Nobody can concentrate. No focus. I'll be in an afterlife thank god, when this generation is supposed to survive a non-tech world if the grid goes– with a magnetic sunburst or something not-so dystopian. something please exterminate these warm-blooded dinosaurs of earth, aliens or an asteroid please. Please for Earth. Earth is unstoppable. Humans are weak.

Too many limbs. Oh it's been an hour. My limit. I cannot do anything over an hour.

Why? Just add human. I be sitting here naked. Nobody can know. All this is just between me and the keyboard. Keep a secret. Think for yourself. Proudly asexual. Analyse it to little pieces that won't work, 'cause there's now extra parts? I am think, I am brain. My mind impels. I hate poetry. I don't know how to do a summary. Well it's time to publish and see if I typed soomething wrong. 

FIN.