Today I finished using my note book

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finished meaning it's full of words and there's no space for anything else anymore. each page is full of notes, list of things to do, thoughts, ideas from past class sessions, brainstorming, brain mapping, unfinished sketches, anxiety, anxiety, anxiety, and more

 

anxiety that my culture denies. it's the normal stage of life because anxiety is what you can avoid yourself like depression why don't you just cure yourslef, fake happiness, sleep early or just fucking die already?

 

because nobody has loved me sincerely i let my note book loves me because nobody has trusted me sincerely i let my note book trust me because life is never easy and you are always fucking alone (when you are gay, asian, and don't give a shit about gender) in this world. so I give my heart away and carry my note book along with my empty body along with my good intentions and remaining faith of God? being me, born to be me is born to be lonely in time. when you are gay, asian, and don't believe in gender, you go ahead and outcast yourself from the humanity.

 

never thought of being ever so self-aware until all my best friends are white, all my companions are white, people i fuck with are white, people i trust are white my soul is white for i don't believe in mind and body dualism i am lonely and no longer want to feel this way ever in thiis world where i don't belong but standing still where white is for the space we carry along 

 

then I go ahead tell myself: you need to have a note book a beige color note book because too many white pages are not good for you white sheet paper are overrated like why do you print photographs on white print paper as well? white isn't bad just not me.

 

are we talking too personal or am i being loud is it about too much of me as i go back to my note book, it ran out of pages but i am still having it carrying it and writing over what i have wrote in the past it is my life that i love forever that i tear myself as i tear papers in my note book for the others i never remember names of. i will be broken but full in the end with human sketches not at all perfect, but sincere.