Not so random Words that look like ducks

For months, the first sentence of this essay was: “I once believed the world was safe, that people were kind, and that differences could be set aside”. This was a lie though, cooked up by an LLM that has never experienced anything it wrote. The word that best fit the current sequence was chosen, and somehow it makes senses to me. It reminds me of looking for shapes in the clouds. I know that it’s just arbitrary volumes of whatever the fuck clouds are, yet my mind still sees the shape of a duck. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, and walks like a duck, it must be a duck, right?

Yes, I never believed the world was safe, nor that people are kind. In my experience, the kindness of people is directly proportional to what I can offer them in return. Quid-pro-quo, to say as the Romans did. But that’s also a lie I told myself so many times that I now wholeheartedly believe, regardless of any evidence that proves the contrary. I’m doing exactly what I so easily call idiots idiots for, so I must be an idiot myself. And left at that, I would have believe that I’m an idiot who has idiot thoughts just making my way through this idiot life. I don’t know what the last sentence means but it felt good to type so I'm leaving it.

I think I was building up to some type of climax with that last paragraph, but I have no idea what that brilliant climax was. And yes, I realize that I just called myself an idiot two sentences ago, and then immediately after called an idea I forgot brilliant. Deal with it. I have to. So can you.

Going back to why the rambling sentence about idiots felt good to say, I have an hypothesis (this autocorrect keeps telling me that it’s “a hypothesis” and not “an hypothesis” and I want nothing more than to tell it to just be less wrong, but it is not a sentient being, and my frustration due to its inability to can will never mean anything). I repress my thoughts constantly, always looking for the perfect thing to say, the perfect thought to thunk, that I just end up saying nothing, and thinking idiot thoughts about how what I’m supposed to be thinking must be perfect. I seem to think both too highly of myself, and simultaneously also think not enough of myself. I don’t even know if I said what my hypothesis is, but I said words, so I must have meant something. Who knows, I may have meant something meaningful, but I’ll never know, because I can’t remember my own fucking thoughts.

For those keeping count, please tell me how many times I’ve now used the word “fuck” in some shape, cloud, or duck. It’s such a placefilling word. Why are you even keeping count you weirdo? Why are you even reading this? Do you maybe understand what I’m trying to say? Is it profound? Or is it just a whole lot of words to keep you busy, making you waste your time as I’ve wasted mine? Who knows. I guess you could decide for yourself what my intensions are. Do you believe you’re living in a world that’s safe, and where some brilliantly idiotic stranger will vomit up words that look like ducks to keep you occupied until he decides you’ve wasted enough of your life paying attention to him? Or do you believe the stranger is just a stranger trying to not lose his shit and doing anything to keep keeping together?

This essay is built on shaky ground friend. Good fuck I forgot how much I love to write. And now that I’m not forcing myself to think perfect little thoughts, who knows what imperfectly dumb things I’ll be getting up to.

I do not know, but I’m excited to find out.