7 November 1921

This inescapable duty to observe oneself: if someone else is observing me, naturally I have to observe myself, too; if none observes me, I have to observe myself all the closer.

-Franz Kafka

first, and most obviously: church.

i lie, exclusively. when i tell the truth, it’s in service of the larger lie. unutterable fear drives everything i say and do, so everything i say and do is an attempt to forestall, for one more moment, everyone else seeing how lost and afraid i am. i try to remember things that i’ve said that have seemed successful in the past, and i repeat them and adapt them to new contexts. i hope to avoid having to improvise.

i write, and i try to focus with precision, with mercilessness even, on myself. i do my best to not let myself off the hook, make me answer to myself if no one else. i am determined to pick at scabs, disinfect wounds with fire, jam my thumbs in my own eyes. i know it will be good for me.

i sprint headlong right up to the edge of what i’m scared of and stop. i stay there, right on that edge, so long that it can feel like i’m making progress. i wallow in my own filth and i congratulate myself for it before i hate myself for it. i write more, excoriating myself for my cowardice. i put on a hell of a show for myself. i never need to improvise, and it feels fresh every time.

i’m just like Kafka, just like me. i’m yet another interesting white person. the real one this time, observing myself all the closer because none observes me, just in case someone observes me (especially me). i’m instagram poetry.