idk how to express this in a way that doesn't make me sound like a pseud but like i've been thinking about how history is comprised of a series of mundane events that are retrospectively given interpretive significance. viewing my actions in this light is devastating.

as in, if my actions are given any sort of attention and treated with even a modicum of significance, they are seen to be terrible, in the least extraordinary way. even call them “my actions” is a misnomer. there are flows of energy using me as a vessel. the container is incidental.