media & identity etc etc etc

in a perfect world,,,

thinking about nothing & the cool morning air & 

i'm staring wide eyed at the wall to my left because i'm not myself. i'm not anybody else either. i'm not thinking much. 

i wonder if mentioning car seat headrest will bring all the other insufferable 20-somethings to my page. been realizing nervous young inhumans did something to my little chameleon soul. 

don't know if i'll ever be able to consume media in a way that doesn't flip my identity on its head.

i find meaning in everything that isn't me. but now it is. u see?

i apostrophe m

an amalgamation of ideas that have never belonged to me. 

i'm a photocopy that's been copied so much it looks like something new. but it's not. 

this is too existential for 9 fucking am.

anyways i've been reading a streetcar named desire because one of my teachers kept mentioning it last semester,,, blance is a BITCh and that's my only comment so far. 

oh and the way stella returns to stanley even though just minutes before she couldn't stand to be near him,,, she's me thru & thru

and i know i'm 20 years too late but spit by kittie is a perfect album - also new knocked loose fucks.

dunno what to make of all this.