www.me

It's almost ten.

Yesterday, I managed to get out of the house for a while.

I had an interview with Tiktok.

It went well.

I got on the bus.

I got off the bus.

I went to the grocery store.

I bought some lotion, a drink, and a spray.

Then I went to the mall.

It smelled like vomit.

I was pretty irritated because I applied for a job there.

And they kind of wasted my time.

I don't like going to the mall.

I don't really like going anywhere, honestly.

This was all so compelling.

I'll post it right away.

LAYER

55555.

745am

The next yesterday I wandered to my appointment. Strolled through the

Thrift store beforehand and found nothing of interest except a freedom family milota coated in a thick layer of dark grey dust I had no interest in removing. A roll of film inside caused my departure.

I arrived earlt by about an hour and sat scrolling until it was time to speak to three separate AGENTS about the situation I was in.

How I didn't wanna say anything to them anymore that I wasn't willing to publicly post or deny.

I left empty handed and went to another thrift store.

On the way a man in an suv with a dream catcher swaying from his rear view mirror and red peeling hide offered me a ride.

I walked faster and with a tinge of regret.

I wasn't gonna go but I wanted more of that coffee and the place was equally exhausting as the retailer it bought overstock from.

They still had the coffee. I also bought some ibuprofen, and realized I wasn't wearing sunscreen anywhere but my face.

They didn't have any I wanted though.

I'm picky about the stuff. It's like having an air conditioner.

It makes you think you're safe from the heat/but the heat's still there.

You just can't feel it.

I thought about the painkillers too.

Same to me.

I always made the same shape in the store.

I could draw it for you.

It's like a comfort object.

Making shapes.

Bigger than my hands could repeat.

I think that's why I lost interest in listening to music I'm not making myself/

The shapes seem too small to me.

Mminiscule/

In the kids section was a wooden rifle

A lot of guns in the place/

I'm not against them,

They lay like music to me

Funny little shapes.

I'd rather teach my body to dodge a bullet than aim one.

Or maybe I know both.

I remembered sitting outside the courthouse with foreign military testing my value.

Whether it might be worth trying to take me out of there.

They shot me in the foot with a rubber bullet twice.

One hit me right between my toes on the left side.

My whole left side is so swollen with love for them all.

My hobby had been only somewhat private:

Collecting military regalia.

Currently I dress the obsession with Korean popular music.

The man who on paper was my grandfather inspired it.

Dennis Cassinelli.

I was at his funeral in Paradise Montana where they shot rifles, trumpets, and folded a flag.

I wonder what it's like for people to think about me here in Montana.

With the men who had touched me dropping like flies alongside the women who enjoyed it.

The things they had done.

Dennis didn't want to touch me.

Donald didn't either.

I was like a fingerprint ink pad for blood that didn't run though their skin.

It made them go mad.

.

Today I am testing a video game. I have to do laundry. I'm already exhausted.

Last night I ordered food.

I was tired of cooking.

In Missoula I had called Jin about it.

He hasn't touched me in a long time.

But he still watched.

Ray told me that Jin was one of the people who came from the fertility clinic disguised as a spa in Incheon.

I looked at property there. It looked isolated and peaceful. I still think about it often.

I wonder if they would be safer with me there.

I hope it happened soon.

But not so much like this.

Jin was walking around, well, patrolling really.

Some force of physics made him fall down on top of me when I was asleep on the sidewalk.

He injured me pretty badly. There was a team watching through survellaince cameras with infrared and infrarainbow.

I'll remind you know of the fact that this is a science fiction novel.

They couldn't examine me but it really looked like I broke my back.

So here'sthe part that it gets messy.

The implant is supposed to be totally disabled.

But it's stillfully integrated into my nervous system.

So I'm like a walking talkie.

They. (who's they. You want me to work on character development now?)

People can access codes and scripts. Like when you do a blood test or look at something under a microscope.

It's why a lot of junkies end up fried.

I'm pretending that's me now.

So no one takes this seriously.

When I was using they could copy these codes and input them on their own more current devices.

Like using grandmas recipe.

Then you get high and still pass a blood test.

So when someone tells me to stay sober I just laugh because half the time that's what they are doing.

Coopying old codes.

Anyway.

At the thrift store I bought a puzzle made from ancient Greece.

I looked at it and thought of Suga's flat earth fixation.

The truth is the earth can be anything you want it to be.

The one I'm touching now, folds.

You solve it making twelve columns of 42.

3 columns of six.

Then you go to hell.

Why would I solve something like this?

I paid two dollars for it.

I also bought coffee, protein shakes, and a few other things.

It was too much to carry so I shed a lot of the packaging.

Then I caught a bus.

I'm just sitting here now in a grey tank top I no longer want.

I don't know what to wear.

Sometimes I wish someone's god would just tell me.

Oh well.

I keep watching demna like a hawk.

But it feels like walking backwards most of the time.

Amen.