I used to write poasts, now I'm just a reblog machine. I don't remember when I last felt like I had something to say, something that mattered enough to expend the energy to wring it out of my brain (or that felt so urgent it wouldn't stay inside anyway).
I've been meaning to go back through my blog(s), see what the old mes of Diaryland and LiveJournal and early Tumblr had to say for themselves, but even that seems like a horrendous slog. I know I was sad, I was horny, I was desperate, I was (rarely) ebullient. Do I need to dig through all those brain dumps? I'm not sure I would actually learn anything.
Instead I'll just scroll, and scroll and keep myself narcotized with Content and Takes. Maybe I've grown out of feelings. Maybe detached is better than despairing.























