Did You Use Limewire And How Bad Did It Fuck Up Your Computer?

— David Cronenberg, Consumed

— Nikita Gill

Unfinished Doc, dated Dec 14, 2022

I’ve been told the best remedy is to let it all out somehow, somewhere. I cannot share my deep dark secrets with those close to me, for fear of worrying them too much. They don’t deserve to carry my burdens, especially when most of those are just results of my perpetual inertia.

 The things I haven’t done in my life are entirely my fault as far as I see it, I am not a victim of circumstance. I could’ve tried harder so many times before.

 Things are too fucked up now and none of it is an easy fix. While I am patient, I am a slut for instant gratification. The thought that I would need to plan, and wait, and wait, for things to get better is terrifying. How the fuck do I do this? How do I climb out of this hole? I don’t have the energy to force myself.

 Something in my mind shuts down at the thought of doing things simply because I “must”. I think when people judge me as immature and childish they’re not wrong. I am unable to click on the “Responsible Adult” persona, instead opting for being a ghost in my own life and in others’.

I’d rather not be perceived so as not to be asked for anything because I have nothing to give. I’m unmoored and empty and failing. Every single day I wake up and… great. Another fucking day. More of this shit in this body that is fucking horrible and I don’t have discipline to make it bend into the shapes I wish it would.

 I wish I was more like my sister who can make herself do the things she needs to do. I don’t even do the things I want. There are so many things I want. And I can’t move to get them. I want to cut my legs off, I want to cut my arms off, I want to put my brain in salty ice water. I want to shave my head, I want to be choked. Or touched, desired would suffice. I wish I had a sex partner. I am not done learning and experimenting. But he seems to be done. He’s always been done. I’m stupid enough to stay here.

 Oh, yeah, also I don’t have any money. I love his company but I need more. I need so much more. I’ve gotten used to being ignored so I do my own thing. But I miss being flirted with and I miss being desired.

 I miss her, because she made me feel fucking amazing but now she does’nt want me anymore either. Because at the end of the day, nobody really does. I’m too complicated and too flawed and too married which is really fuxcking ironic if you think about it. At this point its just a “dont have sex with me “badge because I don’t deserve sex therefore I don’t get it or get it half-assed or get it taken away. 

Im just as good as anybody im just as bad as anybody 

I wish i knew how to play guitar but for real. OR again discipline to actually learn. I want to learn new languages. I want to teach. I want to cook, I want to hike and swim and travel and read and paint 

I want to make masterpieces, take on large intricate projects but I guess I have to start somewhere and I have no idea where to start. I want my art to be in museums. Not international, that doesn’t matter. But locally, that would be nice. For people to want to go see it and stand next to it and observe and see every single tiny detail that I will undoubtedly put into it. A canvas seems so limited, a body seems so limited. I want infinite space for creation. The world could be my canvas if i only wanted it to. Right? 

I dreamt I was at a party at someone’s house. I was hiding out in the bathroom. My

Weird digital art from last night

I went by the lake today. This used to be one of the places I'd go to with my grandpa. He's been gone for a month. It was strange to go there without him. I went with my dad, we both sat there and cried.

It was good that I went, though. He might be gone, but as long as the lake is there, I'll always have a place to come back to and be with him.

Broken televisions and a piano

I'm writing a story, and decided to make the MC's apartment in the Sims so I can visualize their home better. I think it's pretty cute, 10/10 would live there.

By Roberto Ferri