Day 47: June 16

 I'm just touching base again. I'm averaging doing this about 1/2 the time, since I started mid April. It's been 96 days, and it's my 47th day journaling/daily paging. 

I was hoping this habit would be more fulfilling/helpful. But I'm doing it anyway. Better than nothing. At least in theory. If people read my diary when they're not supposed to it might cause more harm than good. He said cryptically/hypothetically. 

I'm beyond exhausted with life, with this country, with capitalism, with everything. Even the things that brought me joy have been taken away from me. I'd be a hermit if I could afford it. I don't want my kids to feel abandoned. But I don't know what else to do. We're just standing in the way of reckless hate like Theoden, except instead of orcs made of evil, it's our brother and sister humans striving to kill us. 

the new Superman movie was pretty good, so I got that going for me. Hopefully it will lead to better things. Both in media and out. I'm nearly done with my first edit of my fiction in my complete works (up to 2022 at least). The last story is a lot worse than I remember, which is very disheartening, since it's the one I wrote most recently. But I guess I just get them edited and polished a bit and then print 5+ copies for friends who want to read them but never do, then I'll start writing other things. 

A big reason it's so disheartening is there's a part of me that still wants success, money, fame, security. All the methods that I could possibly attempt result in exploiting others. But the arts, literature especially, seemed like a way to get rich while also not exploiting others. At least not as much as 99.99% of the other options. Not like I'd get published anyway. Better people don't. Worse people do. I'm trying to remind myself I'm doing it for me, not for anything or anyone else. I'm proud of a lot of it. and I might still try submitting some of the stories different places. Idk if anyone will ever care, but it's a record of my consciousness existing however briefly in these vast cosmos, until it's not. So many stories in history lost like tears in rain. Yet we keep remaking disney animated live action ones. Cuz money. Money matters more than art. Art is worthless and as imaginary as anything. But I endeavour to do it anyway. Hate me, hate my writing, tell me I'll never be read or published. And you're probably right. But I'll do it anyway. Screaming vs the void to tell myself I exist. 

I exist.