i am a girl with chipped nails. i keep buying nail polish i keep buying things that shine at stores. i have thoughts and suggestions that i believe will benefit me but i keep postponing them. i am bad with priorities. can you choose what you're bad at? can you choose the number of things you must be bad at? because i cannot be good at everything. you cannot be good at everything. but can you be decent at everything? is that life more fulfilling, more stable with less fraction, what kind of life do i want? why can't i try on different lives like i try on different dresses and see which one fits? or maybe i did, maybe you did, maybe we all did and we have no knowledge of it. like a dream you can't remember, like a person believing that she sleeps dreamless but in fact her sleep is a breeding ground for dreams.
why is the price of interestingness so high? i like interestingness, a lot. i say 'i won't trade this for anything' a lot. but i hate the price too. i hate it, a lot. it's like coming down from a strong, heart-wrenching, stimuli-blocking high. life wearing off. life leaving you. a new kind of pain that is hollow, shallow, like dark waters. some people live like this, like i do. we're not living in a cage, but it feels like a soft cocoon we can't escape. what do you think of heavens? what do you think of earth? interestingness is a drug, and i love the idea of drugs. am i lucky to never be hooked on one? but i already was. hooked on life. hooked for life.
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