shit I’m alive

Hello from the trenches. So currently, I am recovering from the biggest ego death I’ve ever experienced. I have nothing but an aching soul.. who wants me.

I am Mr. Krabs with no shell.I am sensitive and fucking fragile.

And pissed.

I escaped the matrix. Shed every false identity. Every story that was told to me. Especially the ones I had in childhood. That’s a long story though, maybe I’ll make a post about it sometime.

Anyways, I’m at a point where I’m so painfully aware of every costume I try to put on. And actually. If I even try to put one on, it’s stripped off me and I get beat with it.

So I must craft. Or perhaps just live. But I need some shit to go off of. I can’t just be floating around. This was made clear to me the other day.

I met a friend recently, and he was like damn you’re so talented. I think this individual was sent by God himself because I could not see what he was talking about.

He kept asking me questions about myself. And I guess I only had cryptic answers for him because he told me that I’m purposely evasive.

The truth is I’m kind of a ghost. People project onto me like a mf, and I just got used to letting them. They don’t want to ask questions about me; they want to tell me who I am. It’s either that or they think I’m crazy. So what’s the point?

This guy really didn’t give a fuck about any of that though. And at that moment I think I became a real girl. I felt my whole body materialize. I was being seen. Holy shit.

So who the fuck am I? Well let’s see here.

The backrooms is a actually a great place to start. I mean it’s fucking liminal over here. There’s definitely hella space that I can work with.

And this is actually the best place to be, because you can SEE things clearly.

I took two tabs and forgot my entire life one time. And as my name and everything started coming back to me. I was like wait. What the fuck am I doing? I care about this shit? I need to make some serious revisions.

It’s like that only no acid and I’m starting with nothing.

I have to be brutally honest about what I actually enjoy. I can’t pretend anymore. I’m not looking to gain anything.

When I was trapped in the ward for weeks all I wanted was my guitar. Music and writing down my ideas is where I’m at.

That and doing readings for my lovely followers of course.

So here’s a question for you.

If you found yourself in the backrooms and forgot who you were. What would you get up to in there? Who would you become?