Halfmoon, Spoon's Solution

Ill as fuck. Social supports dry amidst the wet. 

All my glad chronesthesia episodes are of feeling pre-medicated, that is, prior schizoid diagnoses received. 

This is the place I want to be. All associations usher on from there. My acquaintances who know about this all suggest to cultivate this state. 

Cultivating the state is a well-tempered preparation. Working a habitual, flexible set practice. I approached the orbit of feeling pre-medicated today even though ill as fuck. 

Much of the set practice is retroactive, memorial. Nostalgia and nostalgia for times never experienced is a critical obstacle to me. I have the memories, they are resuscitative and multiple. 

It's difficult to extricate from this aesthetic culture. The affect is so modernist, the coding sense hyper. Sad walk in mall arcade. 

That is the null hypothesis for the moment. 

Under the halfmoon tonight, the spoon's solution is to keep in mind the moments of feeling pre-medicated. Sure, the life prior to diagnoses, and well sure, chronesthesian life line through time as the big touchstone. 

My spinal cord, cardiometabolic and digestive are a wreck at the moment under the current inundation of the state area. 

I don't think on suicide because I treat myself to the lyric "tomorrow I'm dead" and that's somewhat of some likelihood without me trying. Looking to the future is a superpower from here. Yes, it's there most definitely. That's it. And the present is like an endless fractal flower or a screen plus algorithm like that.