Inebriated confessions of a Leo

I am a terrible Leo. I am all talk and no lion. I am no regulus.

I am a caricature of the overman. A caricature of an artist.

I can speak as if i am. i can be an actor and pretend. But ultimately I am terrible at it. I live vicariously through those that I speak to. All those that I help. I help because I accidentally incidentally live through them. I a crude fraud. A weak ass who carried not his load. no his burden. I am sorry. I have deceived you. I pretend. I admit I pretend. So onto another chapter Where I confess I pretend and thus I live with my pretensions. I live with my egoistic vanity. I subsume it. I sublimate it. I make me master of me and therefore all of the universe. I curse utility. I curse the morals of others. And build my own on pretensions. Ultimately to kill my envy. To spare my vanity. To make me what my vanity wishes to be. Forever. Unto eternity. God Save me. God Save the Queen. But really ultimately God Save Mark Zhuang, Matt Fuji, Kais, Kath, Margaret Olivia Jennings, Anna, and anyone else I might give a damn about. Because it is my pretensions that are keeping me a toxic rancid thing but I cannot help but be the evil that nudges you to nausea.

I must become hopeless. Of all the things that the great girls that have turned me down explicitly or implicitly indicated have taught me it is that I must realize I am not good enough that I aspire for something not really more beautiful or more wonderful but simply for that which I cannot have or believe I should not have.