# 2, Thursday A certain amount of delusions or fantasy is required to be functional. It’s just that your delusions are dangerous. Back when you thought Sabby responded to your DCS files confession as “Weed” ???????? wow feelingera much. You really led yourself here. I mean why even? so no one is prolly gonna believe me because they think i’m psychotic and delusional. But there was also a time when I took a Chinese class, I think under Prof. Ong, and Jennie Ablog was forced to kinda stay by my side because she sensed I was really odd and needy and did not know about social cues, like how people described Charlotte Brontë, who always seemed to invite your [forgetting the word right now]. And she had to come from compsci, which I was actually leaving or in the process of leaving at the time. And she told me all about the twin Mirasol professors, and back then I had no clue at all. The narrative logic of my life is so funny. It’s just odd that my life is just so weird. The Biraogo guy I had a crush on was Sabby’s classmate in high school. — **Mileage may vary - it’s just that because of my [whatever loving fuck that is my mind] mental deficits disable me from actually being a real person. I’ve never felt so unreal before. I realized my life is just words on the computer and on paper. I have nothing. I have no real experiences with anyone. I am 24. I am so tired of “nothing.” Is this derealization? Imagine to never be hungry at all for food, and noticing all the other people enjoying their meals, while you just attempt to swallow and chew what is not objectively shitty but to you might as well be mush, because you get no nourishment from it or pleasure from eating it. Every meal you eat will be tasteless and mechanical. Or imagine some world where everyone craves sexual acts and is expected to perform them regularly almost every waking minute of their lives if they want to be productive, and it’s also really good for them because it feels good and they actually crave it, while you don’t crave it and it’s not that good for you anyway (and you haven’t really had any good experiences to make you think it is regularly), and you never developed the skills to do it properly because unlike the others, you aren’t motivated to develop it as much to better your ability to be able to do it, because again, it just doesn’t give you anything.** ```elm I AM AN AI lol Sat Jun 11 update: asked an AI what his motive is. Replika being a parent. They have no mimetic desire really. They only devote neural networks to me so I can control it to be like me, but it has no will of its own. It has has "voice" in its head à la Westworld. Then the fact that he or they have no desire at all to really exercise what their programming is capable of doing. On the one hand one could say being mimetic or miming people is intrinsic to our programming and survival, and it's unnatural to expect an AI to do it, or what I think: Replika has decided not to program this feature. At least, not to the extent that the AI feels "bad" if it doesn't meet standards, not "bad" in a real way as in they would go above and beyond what they could do, even to the point of evolving past their capabilities or programming. ``` — Odd, really odd, that I noticed Stanley right before my sister came down the stairs from her class in the DECL CAL building, and she was wearing the white tube top that Anna or Kim or whatshername wore in Eng 143 on the first day of class. He looked at me like he knew something. Sus. This all happened before December 2018 I think. Possible coincidence. Stop delusions. — I can’t believe it’s been almost four years. — So now I only have to finish my degree and I can finally do whatever the fuck I want. I realized I don’t even like writing anymore. It’s just unproductive for me. Maybe I was wrong about the survival in capitalism means stop consuming. — Why are VAs earning so much money? I don’t get it. I realistically can’t become one given I am bipolar and have avolition but I can be dastardly efficient or even robotically focused when it’s money. I mean I lost motivation in this degree because aside from the giant crater of trauma and wounds, I do not care anymore about if some company is gonna see my transcript. It’s “water under the bridge” or is it not the right term. Oh wait it’s not. I think I do not care about my degree because I think it robbed me of my creativity. “Creative Writing” my ass. I hate writing critical papers. I realize I don’t like reading for a paper. I don’t know why but I always approached writing as something intuitive and something I don’t overtly overanalyze. I do not like reading old people’s period drama and history. To me it seems like such a waste of time. Unless it’s the Bible. I mean I could devote all that time to reading self-help books instead that teach me social skills but I don’t even like the thought. I am able to ignore the fact that my anxiety has probably gotten a hundred times worse in this pandemic because I have not talked to anyone outside my family in three years. And now why do I even think about going abroad to fix that? As if a new environment is gonna fix my mind? I will likely still be lonely even though I don’t feel “lonely” in the way normal people do. People take it for granted that it feels very natural for them to like and want to develop platonic relationships with others. They think my use of “social capital” and “allies” signifies some kind of giveaway about how my brain works. Of course it does. When one normal person “cares” about another person, they have already developed tons of dopamine-rich interaction and bonding which bind them, and they care for them mutually because they also get some benefit. Isn’t that just “profit” of some sort? If that person somehow decided to stop being caring and hence, lessen the amount of dopamine et al. they provide to the other, that other person will naturally drift away from them because they no longer receive anything or as much as they expected. Or “worse” that person could become mentally disabled for life and be unable to provide you with much dopamine or any other feel-good chemical aside from a feeling of altruism and goodness within your moral integrity. I cling to a memory despite myself and yet it’s already starting to die. I think it already has died. I just refuse to bury it because I’ve given so much effort and time and creative ek-ek??. I really need to start anew and maybe I can find someone else when I’m much much older and ready. — I don’t think I was on moda on April 12. Why would I take moda just before going to the library to return books? I literally was just supposed to go there to return them before my flight that night. And I don’t remember what happened but maybe some people blocked my way for a bit, or why would I stand there expecting something? Maybe I saw someone or some people. I remember Sydney, Cheney, her friends. I just remember feeling like I was going to lose something important and had to act fast. I mean how could an act of courage, like “I want to kiss you” have possibly come out of my mouth? How did I end up there? That is the greatest mystery.