somnambulism- also sleepwalking. It’s part of the parasomnia family. Only 4% of adults experience (and sometimes suffer) somnambulism. For reference, watch The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari and prepare yourself for silence. Terrifying silence.

As the sun is shining brightly on the faces of all the individuals (babies, crossed legged you’re-a-peein’s, chattering middle age housewhores, and one unforgivable plaid hat) sitting inside 5628 North Clark St, I can’t help but think about how ugly most people are. I know, I know shut up- not on the outside. C’mon, give me more credit than that- I’m not that critical or superficial (except if you ask me to depict your parents because I’ll most likely rip them to shreds and lose your friendship). Most people tend to keep their ugliness right on the inside right under all the faux glasses, “beards”, and personalities. For most people, it only comes out in particular instances. Par example, when someone proceeds on talking about themselves alongside the missing (ehm, necessary) talent of empathy (as in, I have to sit here, listen, and pretend that this story makes any sense and show a shred of ((forced)) interest with a half-crack, half-assed smile. And of course, I can’t forget a faint barely passable laugh! H a h a h a.) The ex was a lot like that. The ex ex was even more like that. I don’t want to say boring per say, but I’m too lazy to costume that shit up with something nice (or care). (Not to, of course, cloak myself in any sort of narcissism- I got my faults, but lack of empathy ain’t of them, bitches.) I’m going to take a big leap here so bear with me for a bit- the people I do like, and generally show their generous, kind self and keep that ugly tucked in, truly can show empathy in most case scenarios and likewise, the people I don’t li…hate- can’t. Allow me to elaborate motherfuckers:

Take Man A. Man A (Mannay?). Man A is nice. He has his moments, but overall- nice guy. Man A hits the big city, leaves everything behind. A respectable move, but for him, it sustains that one bad personality trait (ha, who am I kidding, Mr. Man A, it sustains one of many). (I was about to do a footnote, but specifying parenthesis have become a thing now. This lack of empathy breaks down into numerous categories, subcategories, and so on and so fuckin’ forth). His lack of empathy usually resides in his story-telling ability. How so? Primero, the story is terrible. Almost always. And you know what, you and I have told a bad story without realizing it from time to time- that’s not the issue at hand. You and I can recognize that it’s a bad story, but Man A continues to tell each and every single person in the the vicinity of where said story originally was dumbly blurted out. Now, as a person who is able to empathize, you don’t even have the decision- you have to go along with the terrible story even though it included phrases such as, but not limited to, ” like what was he thinking? Does he not know she thinks that he is what she was?” or “Not to be ____, but” or my favorite “Oh my God, you are not going to believe what (I don’t know who this is) did!!11”. Stick those phrases on some slutty girls and you’ll get most of the bitches born between 1988-present. I’m done with this.

Most people graduate from the school of the lack of empathy (that’s a mouthful) probably right around at the end of the college. They grow up, really, because everyone around them grew up. You never ever want to be the last person to “grow up”. That shit will stick with you until your reunion. Fortunately for me, I took myself out of the equation in general and put myself in a whole whirlwind of fuck. (yes, whirlwind of fuck- ask me next time you see me what that means or email me at stopusingtheinternetforconversation@internet.internet) As financially screwed as I am (was and will be), I’ve grown. I have only the environment I’ve thrown myself into to thank. I’ve met real people who’ve led real lives and do real things. They stimulate their minds with culture, creativity, and simple things. These people help me resolve, these people help me, once more, grow. Without college, I was destined for a long drive into rock bottom, no doubt about it. With college, I was destined for a long haul of superficial relationships with a heavy case of being of a fucking idiot. Your catch22(ish) type scenario. Fortunately, it isn’t any longer. I learn from these people, I create through these people, I live (and love) through these people. For that, I applaud you(z). I hope this is true because this is the only bit of faith I have left in all of man kind. Everything else, steady as Iraq.  I rely, heavily, on my peers for all sorts of reasons (believe me, I’m as private as it gets, but I sincerely do). I mean in a place like this, what else do ya got?

Simple bliss- I just want simple, non-consequential bliss. Why is there no such thing? Come, empathize with me.


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