and as i wished it to, it begun once more without fanfare. i arrive at midnight, not a moment earlier. if i may tell the truth, i cannot call to memory any particular details regarding the trip there. anything aside from what i think and experience and may be driven to feel here though is irrelevant. completely.

through the dim light of my flashlight, i navigate the pathway to the ASO. bushes and the branches of trees may shift in startling auditory patterns, though i am not detterred or frightened. i've no other choice; the gate is shut behind me and there is no sight of a major road to any sort of remotely major place. atop--or perhaps rather within--the foliage's disorganized whispers, the wind pierces holes through the world. it vibrates at a frequency that the human ear can easily pick up on, and i cannot help but hum along listlessly.

my thoughts start to drift elsewhere, and i only come upon a jumbled mess of ideas. yes, i want to speak on the desire to be a dead god. and my love of the universe, getting down to the intracacies of my esoteric belief system that kind of wraps around the whole communism thing. not in the way that a mattress would be secured to the roof of a small automobile, no, it moreso covers each centimeter of surface area belonging to the mazovian twin-sized mattress. it is a lens of sorts, inconclusive whether concave, convex or perhaps both, and something about that is inherently fascinating to the camera beast thing attached to it.

the ASO met me with the highest honor of breathing life back into what appeared to be abandoned. though by no ordinary humans, it looked untouched, though every surface was so filthy in such a distinctly manmade fashion. furniture was set around everywhere, organized in patterns that demanded to be filled by a human body, after all who leaves an office chair (the ones that spin around and have the 5 or so wheels) facing its desk when they leave? i'm doubtful this many people do. the place died, and the people who once inhabited it had cleanliness standards that were less than human. or maybe it was the general habit of long-term employees (i imagine all of the contracters such as myself have similar issues with the (very) liberal use of dust, dirt, grime, etc. as wallpaper and carpet) to never throw anything away. not for the purposes of bookkeeping but because there is little use in caring about having a clean workspace when the location is so remote that the like 6 people max that worked there at any given time only saw each other for years.

all that to say the place was fucking filthy, and i think i scratched at that layer of paint in a way that would be perceptible to anybody who had worked there in the past. though circling back to it, i have a hard time believing they left the place voluntarily, or even left the place at all. whatever, that's not my job at the end of the day, though what i am tasked with happens to make it impossible not to let the mind wander. so it shall though i'll cut this line off.

maybe it's delusional to think but maybe something in this game can help me understand how to make effective contact. to feel it harder than before.

speaking of feeling when i booted up the game for my second playthrough (that i hopefully can fucking beat this time around) i felt the melancholy that i knew i was supposed to feel. though in beginning to depend on this feeling, it faded. my efforts were futile, things fell apart; they always should.

i am the least well i've been in my entire life.

i hope that i can use that to make what might just end up being my magnum opus.

at the end of the day how else can i get across what i've been living through? the bizarre way i experience the world. the weird self-centerdness paired with the personality of someone who's trying to do the best they can for every person around them, to an inoffensive fault. an unhatable being, left to fill that role itself i s'pose.

but maybe all this delusion is just a manifestation of narcissism that has remained unchecked for my whole life, because why would someone who hates themselves be narcissistic right? that'd be stupid. i jest of course, anybody who knows anything about the world understands that suicide is the most selfish, most self-aggrandizing thing you can do!