I guess this is one of those days when i have more clarity.

If I was here now in the olden days i doubt the blood wouldn’t be dripping.

It’s so fucking weird to know this shit and watch myself type it as I think it and as autonomous as that may sound, I know exactly what I’m saying.

I don’t really know what to think about myself any more but that’s only maybe because I’ve only just started thinking about myself.

I feel like I learnt or re learnt a whole load of self stuff that I’ve probably always been doing anyway.

I have no fucking idea what I am and even the thought of it scares the shit out of me.

How much of me is me? How much of me is my memories? How much of me is my parents? How much of me is my add any one of a thousand imputs.

I actually think I’m just me. I’m in my my bubble and other people make sure I stay on the right track.

To my detriment sometimes but mostly not, I ‘ve just mostly trusted other people and followed them to the cool shit.

Now I’m back from a smoke and have been remembering John Carpenter.