glass walls

This is not anything like a diary, more like an attempt at genuine expression that may or may not fail. What's the expression, the feeling is isolation, the idea is an island, no man is an island surrounded by safety, I grow ill tired of the bipeds that plague my days, that leave my head in a stinking haze, that keep me wondering whether or not the bonds I'm attempting to form are worth anything at all. This is an exercise in futility, a hamster wheel where every step is deceit the idea that you're making progress when the reality is quite different indeed. I just want people who aren't so fucking shallow and cold to come strolling in anytime now no hurry no stress just you know get here I'm not dying or anything just a little disgusted.