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When you tell the truth and no one believes you. Not about the future, about the past, and things that happen when it’s just you and one other person, who denies everything. And ensures the disbelief of poor misguided little you in advance. “You tell yourself these stories…” …about the gas lamp. About the yellow wall-paper. About a room of one’s own. As Doctor Martin walks / from breakfast to madness. Some humans are more equal than others, apparently. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent, and all will be lost. …I’ll never be Jack Kerouac, nor the Bard. I want to be something else. But I can’t get no relief, rest to heal, an understanding ear, a hot bath in the middle of the night when painsomnia is high. I’m too tired to keep fighting to be heard, and I don’t see any future for me but deaf ears and closed minds and filled-up schedules. I’m tired. I’m so tired. I ache in my soul. If no one will listen no matter how I say it then what’s the point of making the effort to even speak? Tillie Olsen’s ‘Silences.’

I ran out of comfort talking aloud before I ran out of words. Knowing someone is outside the windows, being able to overhear them moving around, feels inherently unsafe even if it’s someone who does not listen when I am speaking directly to them. Especially if I know they judge others’ private time to me unfairly and intrusively. Judgment breeds judgment, and being all up in others’ business breeds paranoia, distrust, and low-contact, information-diet tactics. I thought it was a plus that people didn’t appear to listen to me, but it doesn’t mean they’re not eavesdropping. I hate having to monitor everything I do in the privacy of my own home. That doesn’t feel safe. I need non-judgmental people. I don’t like what I’m becoming.

I had to talk my way out of hell again. My problem is I keep having to look back at what’s chasing me whenever I encounter someone new and clueless. Here’s a gift card to ClueMart. Have one on me, but stop wasting my time.

Or maybe a lizard with a ladder. Certainly coffee, at this juncture. Fortunately it’s rather good and local in Hawaii, much like domestic wines in France. Shame about all the walking automated pre-recorded phone system responses taking the shape of humans. I keep hanging up, trying someone else, trying my call again later, and getting variations on ‘lights on, no one home.’ And asking to speak to a machine’s supervisor doesn’t work. Is everyone sleepwalking? WHERE HAVE THE SMART PEOPLE GONE?! Or were they just a dream like unicorns, driven down the roads long long ago into the sea by the COVID bull? Am… am I the last unicorn, trapped painfully in human form? Is that why I yearn to walk into the sea when I’m suffering moron overload? Am burnt out. Scrape me off and feed me to the pigs, I’m tired of the smell of my own abject failure.

Bad kitty. No no no. Go away.

I dunno, man. This whole world is FUBAR.

It’s exhausting. And the exhaustion doesn’t go away with sleep. It gets worse every day I take on more words, listen more, say less, drag myself up one more time and try with all my might to shift that weight. Only to have the boulder I pushed up a hill roll back over me, and Pandora’s jar overflow with the sick and misery of humans who used my ears and mind like a porta-potty for dumping. Where is all this waste in me supposed to go? I’m so tired. And I stink to high heaven so it’s not likely anyone’s going to approach anymore. Someone would have to REALLY care, and generally that only happens when they’re up to no good. No goodniks. Anyone remember Rocky & Bullwinkle? I’m really alone.

I don’t want to be like them. Stupidity is catching.

In my breakdown.

So I induced this word vomit and I’m taking it easy on my brain.