11 february 2025
I hold on to the good moments like sipping water with my hands. Certainty is a drug. I crave it, but is it good for me? My parents lived with certainty that was like a veil over all the painful maybes that eventually became despairing reality. Everyone I knew wanted that but I never did. What's going to happen tomorrow? Will the biospehere sustain modern civilization in 5 years? Do my student loans matter? Does my medical debt matter? My fucking resume doesn't, that's for sure.
I used to dream of a big house on the coast with greenhouses and room for everyone I care about. Azolla and sustainable farming under the illusion that enough people would also care and "do the right things". Now I'd feel lucky just to have a few months with the subset of people that I love dearly.
One day all my efforts to keep life afloat will fail and it'll all come undone. It's inevitable. I've returned to fearing that. Do I need another near-death or psychedelic experiene to reset that again?