I don't want to sleep. Neither to be awake. Alcohol helps to get me numb. Life is slipping through. There are no goals, the real ones, at least. The world is fucked. The world is just as we make it. There is no Truth, the truth is made in a garage.

I did many things. As a proof of concept. I can do anything. I don't want to do anything, since nothing makes too much sense. Nothing really matters.

Understanding is a disease.

Makes me feel sick.