Report: All of Human History to Be Measured by Having Text From Situationship vs. Not Having Text From Situationship

The iPhone (SE 3rd generation) is a lever for jouissance. The body is a dispersion of a positive delusion. Having a text from him turns into not having text from him again, after you text back. Why is texting him so devastating? Why does he turn every one of your text into a thread on iMessage? Why is it that when you kiss him you can forget your name?

My fingers are so chewed; I won’t show them to you. Wherever I go I’m only as good as my mind. I am such a revisionist. I vulgarize my feelings by speaking of them too readily to others. When he sends a “react” to my messages should I feel like I am poked playfully in my cheek? My discourse enfolds me insidiously but he resists it. This will all have been nothing when it’s over. All I could possibly do is to be as faithful to my words as possible. Nothing will remain. He takes shit in bathrooms too. I am a girl of nothingness. He is about vitality and somethingness. Texting him will not tell me what happens when facts become meaning. Will not tell me what is the being that makes the becoming possible. What am I going to do with this kid? He has such wonderful hands.