I prefer biking

I write these too much.

So many unpublished things I've written because I don't value my thoughts enough to even post them on my own blog.

I know I complain about my life and everything too much, and that I'm pretty boring.

Somehow something as simple as going a walk is full of expression and relevance. god.

Most of the thoughts I have that come through the numbing wall of avoidance that is my day to day, are worries. Little things that keep me from doing what I want because I worry about its consequences or perception.

The others are about inadequacy, about mortality and a stupid meta-analysis of myself.

I see others struggling, with real demons, suicidality and depression and I wonder how I can help, but I know I can't.

It fucking sucks. For everything to be an act for another person to experience. For every single action I take to be under the guise of self actuation but in reality is just the path of least resistance in societies eyes.

I hope you know I read every post. Or try to make sense of what's going on in your life by the small snippets I see through our interactions. For better or worse.

I don't want to bore you. Or complain whenever I get the chance. I'm sorry that I do. And for this mess of thoughts.

if you see this

goodnight