You want to know the worst thing about being me? I don't remember this shit. If the exchange had been just a week ago, I wouldn't remember it. Sometimes I can't even remember yesterday. I can look back on shit from years ago that I have absolutely no recollection writing, etc., but at least I see that what I've said is still me. That's literally the only point of solace in my life. Sure, past-me didn't know as much, but at least what he knew and the way in which he knew it was still how I know things.

I gaslight myself all the fucking time. Most of the time I think I'm just going insane because I can't remember anything. I recently had my perception of reality validated for me in a small way, and it's relevant to everyone here so I'll make a post on it soon once I get another reply from the related party (if they reply; if not it'll bolster my case, anyway). But other than having external proof, there's no way for me to remember a damn thing. It's why I'm writing the book, really. It's at least a partial, codified record of "what I know." If I get it written and published, I can die. I don't even care anymore.

There really is no point to life, is there? Western society has been restructured in such a way that only personal, physical pleasure is promoted above all other considerations. Spiritual health and a sense of responsibility to one’s community is foregone entirely. Psychological health doesn’t matter, either. It is healthy, psychologically, to experience sadness, anger, and other forms of malaise when they are appropriate. Society has been forcibly reorganized such that unless you are living only for your own personal pleasure–the individualist mindset– there is no reason left to live and nothing left of traditional society around which to structure yourself. What's the fucking point anymore? Even when I publish this book, no one will read it. Who the fuck reads anymore? It's a thousand fucking pages; even the people who do read have been poisoned by electronics such that they don't have the attention span for that. And it's just a primer , even. Fewer than 50 pages left to go, I reckon. I'll just keep writing.

Oh, uh… Q*bert. We're naming '80s video games, right?