Creativity or mental illness?
On an exhausted whim I decided to start punching thousands of holes into a sheet of paper until Ifeel like I have a sense of when it is no longer a sheet. It’s made a divet in my finger.
There’s something about repetitive acts that I fear. Since I was really young I’ve had nightmaresof doing small, repetitive tasks that will stretch on for infinity. There is no end ever and I know it and there’s a sense in those dreams that I’m simultaneously living every moment in the past and the future at the same time. It’s maybe the closest thing to terror I’ll ever feel.
Anyhow, I posted this because my finger looks like a weird dick.