Aversion to clutter
Broken and morphing drawing tools litter the surface. They block
the human below from breaking through the surface to breathe. The squiggles and
networks of lines are anxious thoughts that struggle to filter through ideas
and to connect important ones. Heavy billows of hair sway aimlessly: this is a
moment of surrender, complacent suffocation. Thinking, and just living in
general, is so much effort. It is so much nicer to just do nothing and watch
everything float by. This is a trap of the overdramatic mind. There is really
nothing to stress about, but every little difficulty mounts to paralyzing
panic. Despondency sets in and, until
enough anger or hope is gathered, the mind and body slumps about in
ridiculously irrational and annoying complaint. Anger seems to be the most
effective inspiration, when it is violent enough to break through the self. The
anger must be stronger than the comfort of complacency, however. In the guise
of exceptional insight into the nonsensicalness of life, apathy is a most
comfortably self-righteous occupation.
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