 I’m such a useless fucking loser. How come I can’t get any kind of useful fucking job or internship or this that the other fucking thing and my resumé looks like a piece of dog shit and I have a useless fucking degree? I’m twenty-five-thousand dollars in debt making fifteen-hundred a month, homeless, paying credit card interest, and I hate my fucking job with a passion and I want to break shit but I can’t and I’m burning petroleum and plastic and I can’t stop or else I’d probably go to jail for vagrancy. I don’t own a fucking island in the Sound. More importantly, I never learned how to be pretentious and so I can’t get by in California. People here don’t know to deal with people who aren’t pretentious. They just ignore us because we haven’t learned to make money so they don’t have to look at us. I’m still having nightmares about the goddamned ex-girlfriend. I’ve never dated someone who felt like real life. They always feel like fake life. You speak words and they go in one ear out the other and she looks at you like you’re probably a misogynist or a rapist because you don’t know to talk pretentious and you make art and it sucks and she hates you because you aren’t perfect, and she isn’t perfect either, but she doesn’t have to be, and you do have to be, cause you’re a fucking hipocrit and you’re useless and you’ll never have enough money to be married or to matter to anybody because you’re a loser and you’re worthless and you’re unconfident in interviews because you’ve been used to being stepped on your entire life and told that you’re useless so you smoke a lot of weed and then at least you feel like you’re living in the moment, even though the moment is the end of the world and nobody cares about humans, only dollars, and you have no dollars, and you arne’t very beautiful either, and you tell other people that they are but they do not care because you have no dollars and so your words mean nothing, and you’re unconfident in interviews because you have no dollars and you need them; you’re in debt and rich people are hunting you, they want to kill you, and chop you up and feed you to your ex-girlfriend because she has money and is beautiful like her new man, and you are useless and will die alone, and you will go to hell because you are not perfect. You have eaten meat so you will go to hell; and she eats meat too but she will not go to hell because she is woman and woman is flawless and you are disposable man who goes to hell because he is ugly and poor, and is exactly the same as rich man who goes to heaven except that rich man has money so he goes to heaven and is called useful and is respected and is considered marketable and great and he is allowed to get married and everybody loves him, most especially his wife, unless she is a bitch in which case she has an affair and then both people are reborn and do it all over again. Once, they might be reborn as you, and live to have this realization, that life is death and suffering and there is no way out. But you sit here thinking about yourself, because you are evil, and you feel bad for yourself, because you are useless, and you remember the way people have told you not to feel bad for yourself, so you work hard, and you remain in debt, and you get old and hate yourself and want very badly to live your life and speak to beautiful people, but they hate you because you are odious and sad and you drink; you drink very much and try to survive because you have been weighing suicide in your mind for a very long time and want to stick knives in your gut to feel something other than burning rage and the desire to cry when you cannot actually cry; you want to die to escape debt-slavery or debtors-prison, or else to have for one brief moment your own life in your hands for the very first time and not in somebody else’s hands, and furthermore because you understand that as metaphysical beings we exist truly only in relation to each other and that you are not in a good relation to anybody but only bad relations, because when you dream of your ex-girlfriend you feel pain and envy and other horrible things and you know spiritually that she feels these things and reciprocates them across time and space, and you feel no good things for anybody, only loss and pain and deep love that is flavored like remorse and not like joy, because you are sad and useless and you must surely die soon or else escape. Oh to sail away to sandy lands and other days. To assume a new name and a new face and escape from the debtors who want to kill you. To start over on a foreign shore where nobody knows your name and where women do not hate you for your poverty. But everybody knows your name. You cannot escape from state-surveillance and identity-theft. Everybody knows where you are and what you’re doing and what you’re saying and what you’re thinking, even in foreign lands. There is no escape, except for being born wealthy. You might administrate a business, but businesses do not like you because you are ugly and poor and so they will not let you administrate them. You might sing songs, but people will not buy your music because they are also poor, and moreover because they can read your mind and they hate you. You are Satan. I am Satan. I am you. I am that which I am. You see, I think too much and so I am no good for work; when I work I want to escape and I want to die because I enjoy the good things in life so much that I want other people to enjoy them as well (because I love them) and in speaking truth and love I am become evil incarnate, betray the secret of mana, and anger woman who is flawless and not disposable like man because I have failed entirely to be pretentious, and therefore must be killed and go to hell where I belong because I am useless and ugly.