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hello hello! i will be rambling here. small journal entries here as well. if no date is put down, assume i forgot or the date is the same as the previous entry. no content warning, but keep your eyes peeled for any potentially triggering topics, as i will write whatever comes from my brain, rather than my political-correctness filter. if you disagree with my views, feel free to click literally anywhere else on this page or on the internet. nobody is holding you hostage to read this, i pinky swear.
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in a sea of individuality, i seek a host.
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january sixth, 2024.
i spent the last six days working on this site, and while i couldn't implement what i ultimately thought up, i'm happy with the tweaks. hoping to add bigger things once i'm in a more stable place.
soon i have to look at purchasing needles and syringes online; i need to self-administer my medication before my health takes a turn for the (even) worse. i hate speaking about my health at times, and now is one of those times. i wish i was healthy, but it seems this first month of the year has led to my body shutting down more than ever. it's disheartening and i wish i could just die sometimes. a lot of times i think about taking my life. i never get past the planning stage; i don't want to die, i don't want to be in agonizing pain before i die or experience an afterlife or lack thereof or leave my mess behind for anyone else. i just want a new body, new life. sometimes.
it snowed last night and this morning; my puppy lost her shit. it was adorable seeing her zooming around and inhaling chunks of snow. i love her so much, but i wish she'd stop terrorizing the birds perched on the branches of the trees in my yard; she knows they don't want to eat her snow.
i hope you all stay safe in the cold. i know how unforgiving the winter can be. stay warm, bundle up, don't run (black ice is a bitch), wear a scarf and gloves/mittens!
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january third, 2024.
watched saltburn; it was boring as hell up until i finally caved and read the wiki plot. amazing slow burn.
echolalia by faetooth feels like some angsty ver of a rdr2 song. or maybe some country based resident evil installment. food for thought. added it to the music player on the bottom left.
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january second, 2024.
happy new year. not so happy updates for today.
i've been working on uploading chapters, but as of lately i've lost all motivation towards literature. honestly, i'm contemplating deleting parts of this site in droves. despite achieving relative success with this little piece of the internet, i feel i've accomplished close to nothing. if i'm being honest, i'm unsure if i've accomplished anything in the last year aside from having lived to see another birthday.
i haven't been able to secure an appointment for my medication, and as far as i know, all future appointments are available starting in april. i don't feel comfortable anymore divuling the details of my health on here, but for those who do know the effects of my illness, we know april isn't a realistic timeline. mentally, i've been suffering more than i ever have, and i feel myself becoming more accepting of what's to come if i'm unlucky in the next month or two.
on the slightly bright side, i still haven't cut my hair! i feel more ... pretty, i guess, with it. i've been looking at myself in the mirror, which is a genuine first, but no real focus on my face. i wish i didn't exist.
recently read a book titled taming the beast which, albeit a masterpiece on a niche aspect of trauma that people are typically terrified to even consider writing, triggered the shit out of me to no ends. i think my brain fused myself and the protagonist together, which depressed me further. i had to think for a bit, if i'll always be a victim, if he'll always own a part of me. i still don't know the answer. i don't know how to pick up the pieces of myself if someone has stolen some of them.
i'm just gonna go ahead n delete pages. i'm tempted to delete a couple social media accounts; just stick to my website, tiktok, discord, youtube, n maybe instagram. everything else goes, or is locked down.
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november twenty-first, 2023.
it's almost been a month since my last entry, i suppose that can attest to my struggles at communicating even with a journal lol. for starters, i haven't cut my hair yet. also haven't gotten a job technically, which is causing a lot of stress. i've halted academics in order to just ... figure shit out ig idk.
i fucking hate november. it's never been a good month for me. i struggle heavily, especially this week, with managing PTSD symptoms alongside some other mental health issues. this month has been full of me crying and wanting to die and oversleeping. i've had very tight deadlines that i've failed to meet, and while i normally accept and dismiss failures, these deadlines have been incredibly important to me. i only hope december is a better month, but with the way the last six years have been, i doubt i'll have a good anything until i either move to a different state/country, or i die i guess.
i'm trying to work on more literary junk, and coding a cute thing for the index page whenever a new season comes, but i doubt the motivation will come anytime soon. everything i do lately is to keep oré happy and healthy or to ensure i don't get incredibly sick and die.
i'm grateful for my friends, but i've come to realize due to my agoraphobia and my issues during childhood, it's unlikely i'll ever get the chance at normalcy, or making friends that aren't suspicious of my health or personality. i don't think i'm ever going to have a truly healthy life. but it is what it is. i don't bring these things up to garner pity or sympathy; this is just a consequence of life being life. i'm grateful for the good things and the bad things are what they are. i can't fight things set in stone.
gonna try reading more books next year. and watching more movies. hopefully i'm in a better place, and i'll have a more stable shot at getting my hopes to happen. lately those hopes just look like sleeping in a warm bed with fluffy socks and having a cup of hot chocolate. someday.
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october twenty-fourth, 2023.
the other day, i saw one of those model homes that are always on brochures for moving, except it was all alone on the street, and the lights were on while it was so late. it felt so isolated. was an odd sight.
i've looked at a few sites on nc for inspiration, as i typically do to code a new page. but i came to this weird sort of envy. i'm never going to be talented enough nor inspired enough to create a site that is insanely 90s-2000s old webcore aesthetic bullshit. i'm okay with it, but. i admire and envy the people behind these works of art; akin to drawing while looking at the old masters.
i think i'm going to cut my hair soon. i haven't grown it out an insane amount, but i feel myself getting disgusted with the feeling of hair on the back of my neck. i still want knee length hair lmao but maybe not now. my head hurts an insane amount as a result of not eating dinner, or really anything lately. i look forward to getting a remote job n doing online school n having my own place. i'll only go out to walk oré, and get things i can't have delivered. ugh.
i always look forward to christmastime with the same feelings you do about an upcoming doctors visit to remove something malignant. you know you don't want to be there, but you're happy it's happening because it'll mean something good is occurring long term. bleh. i'm tired and hungry and rambling. goodnight.
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october twenty-third, 2023.
it's been a while. i've been writing nonstop, and finally feel good enough about my work that i can publish the unedited versions here. i might set up a patreon for faster releases, or for any other works i feel might be ready to see the light of day. i dunno.

i can feel my ARFID getting worse; this is common for me during the winter months. i'm starting to gorge on pizza. i look forward to spring rain, and the hopefulness of a new year. soon enough i'll be booking with ella again, and repeating my tradition of getting a tattoo a week after my birthday from her.

i normally feel inclined to write longer, or more emotional, entries. but today i just have too much to get done. hopefully you understand. maybe i need to hibernate for a little while, and once late feb hits i'll be perfect. maybe. i hope.
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september 8th, 2023.
(tiktok voice) well. it's official-- i am now An Anthropology (with a minor in classics/antiquity) Major!
i've been dealing with a LOTTTT of stress, and my wisdom teeth are impacted, so i'm kinda struggling to keep my brain working. i haven't scheduled my surgery yet, but i'm a little anxious regarding my effects post-sedation, since my doctor recommended deep sedation with iv anesthetic. but i want these hoes GONE!!!! NAO!!!!!

i'm very excited for school, in terms of finally studying anthro entirely. i think i'm burnt out from law, so i want to enjoy the full focus i can have now. i'll go back to law after a while, (knowing me, probably a semester) but rn is anthro time.

i started listening to the 1975, arctic monkeys, the neighbourhood, cigarettes after sex, etc. after yearsss of repressing my angsty middle school self. i lowkey feel like i'm regressing to that point in my life, with or without the music lol.

i've been writing more poetry, reading more books, and reading more theory. i want to wean off the internet, but also just kinda... enjoying where i am for now. it feels like i'm floating in a pool-- i don't really know when my body will tip over, but for now, i enjoy the fragile peace. i want to also plan for trips, go on national park hikes, and go to ireland soon. Need Moar Nature...

i recently read both any man by amber tamblyn, and suffer the children by craig dilouie, and i figure i'd dump some "two or three weeks post-read" thoughts here. i still hold some anxiety about posting here, but i remember this is my space n i can have whatever i want here. ANYWAY. any man was a work of art. not even going to let people even REMOTELY pretend that book wasn't amazing. i love the flipping of the perspective onto men being raped, the societal expectations, etc. i felt such strong ties to the characters that i almost had a panic attack while reading lol. i'm gonna drop some of the quotes i love below.

"darkness is a body. i am in a darkness. or i am in a body. a body is darkness."
"i am not dead. i am not not dead. i am in a body, on a ground, and it is morning. i am alive, at the behest of death's dress rehearsal."
"yes, i feel alone. yes, i believe in god. no, i do not want to pray."
"yes, everyone's face is a blur. no, i won't be hungry again. yes, i'm done with eating for the rest of my life."
"yes, i would like to cry now. yes, i understand. yes, i am scared. yes, i can still feel the pain. no, please don't tell anyone. no, i'm not ready."
"i want to reach out and kiss her lids, run my thumbs over their creaminess and remember what delicate feels like."
"i want to never be touched again. i want to take off all my fingers like pen caps and write blood all over this room. her touch is a broken mirror in every room of my mind. her touch is a tender, mistaken fool."
"i am a damaged relic leaving the museum for good."
"it's just a man. a creature, still."
this is a wip, just because i'm reading another book and taking notes and trying to type these quotes down, which takes a ton of brainpower LOL.
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august 23rd, 2023.
i feel like my womanhood is being stripped bare with paint thinner. i need to lose weight, learn how to do my makeup, learn how to exist without taking up space in men's eyes. i have to be forgettable, or even more so. my dog smiles her usual wolfish grin every single day and i feel endless envy for this creature i'd die for, because she's allowed to be as loud and angry and mean and happy and quiet and soft and sweet as she wants. she's never been hit in her life with me, but when i stand up to show her she did something wrong, she shows that primal fear and submission, and guilt courses through my veins. i've never felt more predatory in my life than in those moments. it forces me to remember a parallel, of how men interact with me. i get so angry and reserved because they all carry a great kindness within them, but they show an ancient, almost biblical violence, instead. at least, to me. i feel like a bad dog, shunned and punished to see men's true feelings towards women like me-- are there even women like me? since i was twelve or so, i've almost exclusively known men as the older predators, the rape and incest fetishists, the violent and crazed, and/or fraudulents. i don't know any good men. i don't think anyone does. the few men i know that haven't raped or abused women, as far as i know at least, commit war crimes or fantasize on enacting violence upon women and children. so many times i've heard to "just meet good guys, they're out there." or "just stop meeting bad men lol", when nobody seems to understand that every single man i meet, rots. i want to be a good woman, i want to be a soft, sweet, gentle, caring, generous, loving, worrisome woman. i want to be a woman that a man would love, not hurt. but i'm starting to believe that i'm becoming a lighthouse in the middle of the bermuda triangle, and no "good man" will ever show me kindness or love. i have to come to terms with loneliness, and with the isolation that comes with my role in life. i a venus flytrap and men rot with me, but at least they rot with me and not some young girl experiencing love for the first time.
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august 18th, 2023.
tonight i am fighting demons (resisting the urge to text my ex) and being so nauseous as a result.

i tried once, while dating him, telling him i loved him. he brushed it off and never brought it up again-- an act of kindness, i guess, since i'd be cringing at the thought of emotional vulnerability with the possibility of rejection. our relationship wasn't, by any means, great. or good. the majority of it was me sitting in bed trying to convince myself that he liked me, or at the very least would care if i died, and then resigning myself to arguing over it again the next day while he worked and stressed himself out. there's always been a lot about him that's unique, but our relationship was the most to me. he contrasted me, too well i suppose. i needed it. even physically, he was my polar opposite. but it has its downsides.

as a point of how opposite of me he is, i think i've convinced myself of his emotional detachment. a massive part of why i haven't even seriously considered unblocking him and contacting him is because i'm at least 65% sure he'd either A.) ignore it, B.) not even have my number saved, much less know who's texting him, or C.) show his friends and block me (if i'm not blocked already.). the whole thing sucks. he's steadfast in his opinions, and it's easier for me to just move on and pretend he's dead than be vulnerable and he tells me, "we can be friends." actually, it's easier to just swallow arsenic.

i think i've seen too many romance/romcom movies with breakups in them, and now i've been influenced to try and reach out. but he's gone. even if he accepted my message(s) and felt the same, he wouldn't get back with me. and who's to say the relationship would even be good-- or better than it was before? we'd just fizzle out again. but i miss him. i think i need closure from someone for once in my life. idk. maybe i just need to cry.
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august 3rd, 2023.
ordering breakfast :) had my knee dislocated but popped back in :) i don't feel good :) but still i continue :)
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august 2nd, 2023.
i feel dirty
i have to get rid of all the filth in my body
i feel maggots growing under my skin
i can't live like this
i need to just get rid of every man that's around me
i don't want to be around them anymore
i feel dirty
i need to wash i need to scrub
i feel the itch under my hand
i feel the pinchers under my skin about to break
i keep scratching to get them out
i don't want them there anymore
i hate this body
i don't want this anymore
i feel dirty
i want it out
how do i survive cutting my heart out
even for a little while
how to cope with childhood sexual abuse without hurting yourself
how do i stop bleeding
everything has consequences
i am a bad thing
i need to rot
i am bad
everything i type everything i say everything i do everything i don't do
eveyrthing has consequences
i am a bad girl
i am a bad girl
i deserve to die
i deserve to hurt
i feel dirty
i am dirty

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august 2nd, 2023.
pls disregard the previous psychosis post lmao

i feel stress lowkey building up for school, but i think i can handle it a little bit. it's nothing major yet, and i don't think it's ever going to be so insanely unbearable that now of all times i have a meltdown. i still haven't figured out my plans for how to deal with winter coming so soon, but i'll figure that out after i enjoy the sun a little more (read: never), and have some other shit figured out.

there's some weird cognitive dissonance going on in my silly little rotten brain, and i really wish i could just ... Solve it or close it from my brain's occupation window. i think i need to just read a little bit more, and spend less time in my head. i'm overthinking things that are too early in development. *dj khaled voice*i'm making moves in silence...i'm making MOVES in SILENCE...

until next time.
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july 24th, 2023.
you grew up with your umbilical cord never severed; it simply found a new host in the internet. you feel despair sink into your bones, poisoning the marrow. you silently weep in front of the unfeeling screen, the masses online at the same time completely unaware and apathetic to your suffering. you get on your knees and beg whichever god is finally listening, please, just give me someone. but you know your prayer won't be answered. they never are. you long to escape the cage that has confined you long before your birth, you long to encounter someone who will utter, you are a woman and i am a man and we belong in the dark together. but you know you never will. some people on this earth receive love, get married, and honeymoon in cabo. others do not. some people read alone on the sofa and some people read together, in bed. that's life. you get to huddle up to your screens, flicking away unwanted webpages the way your mother probably did with tv channels at your age. you know the gentleness and compromise and sweetness of love will never come to you; it was written in your soul that you would not be a lucky bearer of the capable of love gene. but in your time attempting to assimilate socially, you have submerged your body in a vat of acid, just to show other girls you bleed just the same. in the moments between your flesh sizzling and burning, and their terrified shrieks, you see it on their faces. you will never bleed like they do. you weren't programmed for it. you received two options-- to attempt to blend, and be ostracized, or to accept the loneliness. you were optimistic as a child that you'd be fine as long as you had friends; you were always an optimist. but now you've been hardened, your once-burnt flesh now scar tissue. your eyes will never hold the same light. your body is heavier each day. have you always been this cold? it's like you're going through rigor mortis. maybe you've been dead this whole time, and your real body is rotting-- no, decomposing, and now your "body" is catching up. you're an anomaly. something that should've been snuffed out years ago, you were given the opportunity repeatedly. now, every second spent is wasted. stolen from someone else.

does it make you feel good, to be the reason so many are dead? you can scream and cry and hurt yourself until you feel the edge of the cliff chip away under the weight of your body. it won't change a thing. feel all the sorrow in the world, for you know now that nobody will ever save you. you just have to wither away. it'll be like you never existed. in the blink of an eye, everything you've ever said, done, thought-- it would never exist again. nobody would even think about it. and yet you're vain enough to continue living, as if it'll make a difference. you know deep down you'll never make any change. you're hollow. are you sure you truly existed in the first place? this nightmare won't end. i want to go home, sit down at the table and eat ravioli in the big bowl. i want to feel the electric blankets at the hospital, and to hear luggage rolling down an airport hall. i want to feel my dog's fur under my fingertips, and to hear my niece and nephew say goodbye one last time.

i want to disappear from everyone's mind and reality, finally.
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july 20th, 2023.
this summer feels so odd. usually i'm with my dad, or working, or at the very least with one of my best friends. i treated summers like petulant siblings-- always missed when gone. i can feel the loss of misha hitting my brain more than ever. i think once i stopped contacting her, i started to seek out friendships in hopes of "being normal", or "being an adult", but the friendships always fell through. they were platonic rebounds, in a way. i realized the extreme similarities found within misha and my mother, which caused the detachment. but, now i worry about distancing from my mother if it means the same will happen as a result. misha was an amazing friend, though not really by conventional standards, i suppose. she and i exchanged things, facts about our families, or trauma, or views on identity. she was wildly intuitive. i felt safe with her, one of the few people i've ever felt that way towards. i could share things without the fear of vulnerability biting me in the ass later. i trusted her entirely. i think part of me still mourns our friendship; though i could always just text her. she'd probably respond, if she's not doing some crazy shit across the country. maybe it was the closeness of her and my mother in traits that scared me. scared me so badly that i had to sever the tie between her and i. i think i latch onto her now absent fingers like a newborn, begging for her existence to be cemented in its tangibility (is that even a word?), just so i know i didn't have a one-sided friendship. if she was able to read this, she'd probably laugh at my dramaticism (again with a possibly nonexistent word), think it's embarrassing or too sappy or whatever. i think one of the most interesting things about her was that i listened to her. i did what she told me, though it was never anything malicious or uncomfortable. it felt like her guiding me, and i wouldn't face consequences for simply . . . not listening. she could care less.
i miss you, meesh.

speaking of friends i miss, i think i've been mourning school friendships a lot more these days. the routine of school kept me engaged with people, gave me a reason to continue to hang out with them. but now, things are amorphous. they fell apart the second we walked out. mind you, i don't hold it against anyone i was friends with. i know i'm difficult to be around, and even more so once i start actually enjoying being near them. it's a bit weird, seeing them on instagram and snapchat and whatever. i'm always able to see them, but i don't get to interact. not the way i used to. i think i forgot that there's a barrier between us once they stop having to see me in person, and it comes as a bit of a surprise once the barrier pops up. maybe i was meant to have this socially silent gap in my life; maybe it'll last forever. my elders used to tell me about how making friends as an adult is rare, and difficult. i'd always shrug it off, a firm believer that as long as i had my best friend that i'd be perfectly fine. but it's not so bad most days. i mean, it's awkward, trying to form small conversations through dms that eventually fizzle out with people i know are adjusted and pretty and popular. but it's not painful. i just have to remind myself that the barrier will come up, regardless of how long i'm friends with anyone. you're not friends with anyone forever, you know? i just need to get my focus back on literature and movies and studying and my dog. nothing else really matters-- my field isn't reliant on connections, and i think i come off as intimidating or something to those who don't approach me, so it wouldn't help anyway. humans are super homogenous within their social circles, so i feel like i just need to fit a certain mold to get along with some people. dunno how long that'll work, or how effective it'll be, so i usually don't. people can see past the bullshit anyway.

i might implement a new page here, for my notes from my phone. add some screenshots of what's on my ipad, or tabs on my mac. maybe it'll flesh me out to others? who knows. i think i started this website as a means to communicate to others, but now. . . i dunno. i'm more interested in seeing how i can put new things on here, that might or might not impress others. oh well. that's it for my mess today (or for the moment, at least).
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july 17th, 2023.
cold mcdonald's fries seem to be a constant in my life.
that, and this feeling that things are going to be horrible yet again when i attempt to move and start school. my mom's already started failing to deliver on her promises, but i wasn't really expecting her to do anything anyway. she's already thrust the responsibility on my unknowing father, so good luck to him i guess. i hope i can get my new ID and legally change my name after my first semester; i don't want to be traceable anymore-- at least for her.

i burned my wrist pretty badly recently-- my apple watch is always on, and i sleep w it, so it ended up leaving a first(?) degree burn on my wrist, and now the skin is starting to dry up and peel away. really yucky, but my fault for sleeping with an electronic watch that generates heat lol. i'll have to be more careful from now on.

lately i've been wanting to get back into learning tiếng việt, since i was making lots of progress before i got burnt out. but i'm a bit cautious; i always end up overworking and neglecting pomodoro timers, and i never seem to know how to manage my time when i develop a new hobby. i guess i'll have to just .. learn, slowly. limit myself to 5 lessons a day, write everything down, recite, immerse in media, etc. until i feel i can take an academic course on it. i hope i don't suck too much with relearning. it seems a massive hurdle to tackle, getting back on track with something like linguistics.
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july 8th, 2023.
whew. mental health is insane.
i'm playing a chess game against a mechanical turk and i know i'm going to lose. but everyone is cheering me on, so what other choice do i have but to play?
i think i'm becoming more and more like my mother. growing up with an unmedicated npd + bpd mom kind of . exacerbated everything to the nth degree, and now the traits she infected me with are coming to bear fruit. her critiques of me are always so much more hurtful, because i've taken so much time to be like her. but it's disgusting to her. unhealthy. weird. it's analogous to your pet cat dropping dead birds at your feet, as a thanks for you feeding it. i'm trying to replicate her behaviors, show her that i can live up to her name. but all i get is silence. she's able to point her disorders onto everyone else, highlight how disgusting they are for being ill. but i don't think she recognizes that instead of escaping her abuse, she ensnared it and forced it down my throat. the second she pushed me out, my soul belonged to her. and i have to deal with the consequences every day. i hold silent, unwavering, unconditional loyalty to her. no, not loyalty. something more like fealty, or piety. maybe both. in shunning my father's actions, i glorified hers. and now i'm sick, like her. i want to scrape the infected skin off my body, tear pieces of my rotting organs off. nothing i do matters anymore in the hopes of being a good person. i deserve agoraphobia. i deserve this self-imposed exile. isolation is the only way to make sure nobody else gets sick too.
i worry about moving; the date comes closer each day (as days usually do). will i grow as a person, finally develop healthy standards and friendships? or will this finally push me off the edge, and i die? i think my mother and i never cut the cord when i was born. now, the cord is rotting-- has been rotting. and i can't breathe, increasing difficulty with each day. she refuses to cut it, though. some days she wraps it around my neck. some days she tightens it. i wonder what life would've been like, had she followed through and left me to die in the cold after she birthed me, like she planned. would my soul have gone somewhere better? wishful thinking, i suppose.

i'm trying to form a registry for my moving day, since i'll be moving with . . . clothes, books, and my dog, as well as her supplies. but it's really difficult to realize what you're actually lacking, when you've never had anything. people always silently judge how i say this, but i can't fucking sweeten the way this sounds. my mother never taught me to brush my teeth, to shower, to wash dishes, to cook, etc. i learned close to zero skills for the gross majority of my life. i taught myself, but even that was a struggle. a little slice of my phobia stems from the fear that others will shun me because of my hygiene regardless, so i should just make myself a hermit anyway. but i want to try. at least for my body.

speaking of agoraphobia, i took a very brief walk outside today. it was 9pm, and perfect weather. i was calm for the most part, but i had experienced a panic attack regarding contamination slightly earlier, so after a few minutes i felt the paranoia of baxteria and spores in the air infecting me, so i returned home. i feel slightly better about being outside. a little guilty; like sneaking out, even if for just a few seconds. felt exhilarating. i also managed to do a full wash day (oiling my scalp included!) the other day, and was immensely proud. it typically hurts too much to wash myself and workout in one day, but i had a little extra energy. i hope tomorrow is better. well, today. i tend to write this at midnight, a habit of mine. i feel safer typing things at night, when people are typically asleep-- like whispering something at a sleepover while everyone is asleep. the night is my only true confidant; she hears everything, she sees everything. she never repeats what happens the next day.
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july 4th, 2023.
i feel the stress of daily life start to add up. i know the kind of person i want to become, but i don't really know where to start. even worse, i don't know anyone who'd even remotely enjoy being around me, new or old. once i move, i think i'm going to withdraw even further, only really talk to people when prompted. it seems like it'll cause less hurt for me, especially since nobody talks to me much anyway. i can tend to new plants and play with my dog, go shopping, learn how to do adult things all on my own. i know solitude is supposed to help people grow, but i think after almost two decades of it, i deserve a bit more time socializing lol. i say this, but i have only gone outside to walk my dog and go to the doctor in the last six ish months...i guess i'm gonna go on disboard and find some servers, idk. i wish there were more apps or websites that allowed for people to hang out irl without there being an influx of predators, weirdos, and horndogs. in my dreams, i guess.

since my most recent doctor's appointment, i've felt more down in the dumps. i think the recent news of diagnoses has been wearing me down more, and i don't really know how to cope with that either. it seems i just accumulate problems and then jam a couple half-baked solutions and pray it keeps the problems at bay for a little while... but i dunno any other ways that work. kinda why i started this journal; it forces me to let out a tiny percentage of what's going on, but also confront & explain my feelings in a place where other people aren't directly influencing the outcome.

i'm thinking about ordering takeout for dinner...maybe to celebrate the fourth. this is my fifth? sixth? fourth of july since fully immigrating, and i still never really do much. my first fourth, my dad lit firecrackers in the backyard. one of them landed on my bare foot and fizzled all over; i tried not to make a big deal in front of his coworkers, friends, our family, etc.-- but i cried in my room with ice all over my foot later haha. i was so scared that my foot was broken or exploded somehow. nowadays i typically order takeout and stay inside; watch a movie or something. i'm a bit worried as it's my dog's first real fourth of july, though; her actual first was two days after i had gotten her, and she was more preoccupied with cuddling with me and sleeping than the fireworks displays. now that she's bigger, i feel a bit anxious that she might react negatively. not that i blame her; it's a massive shift for one day of the year, going from a quiet home and neighborhood to constant snaps and cracks and smells of smoke. i wish i could just put her on pause, until sunrise. she'd be happier.
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july 2nd, 2023.
i think my creeping moving day is slowly driving me to madness. i can't remember a time when i was so nervous that it sprouted little tendrils of paranoia and nostalgia to sink in my soul. it makes me worried for the future; not in the usual, "i'm scared of uncertainty" way, but in the "what if i end up never getting to go back home?" way. i mean, i have no reason to want to stay here. school is going to start, i have to make friends, i have a life to attempt to regain. but my brain is stuck, clinging to this odd little piece of nowhere that i deluded myself into believing is home. i'm not scared of change or adaptation because of the uncertainty of success. i'm scared of it because i never know if things will be the same when i, if i, return. i've spent my whole life thinking of college, of being an adult, of getting to do things i never dreamed of. i used college as a means to keep myself from killing myself, because if i died, i wouldn't get to go out at 5 am for jogs and go to whole foods. i wouldn't get to have a dog, or get a boyfriend to have sex with. i wouldn't have a job i complained about, or people to complain about said job with. i'd just be dead. and yet now, looking at the horizon, i'm uneasy. i know this is a journey i can take-- i've dealt with much more traumatic changes in life, and yet. i hesitate. what if i, myself, can't handle it? what if the very thing i've kept myself alive for, turns out to be even worse than the hellscape i managed to claw my way out of? i don't want to suffer any more. and yet, i think i still am.

alongside this new problem finally rearing its head, i find myself between a different rock and a hard place as well. but that'll be for a different journal entry; takes up way too much space in my head, and i hate rumination.

i also have been discussing with my healthcare team about a recent diagnosis i've received, and working on a plan to cope with the disorder. it kind of worsens my mental state whenever i get a diagnosis-- realizing i'm one step further and further away from normalcy. even with a world full of people with depression, anxiety, etc., i still am alienated. i think it plays into my fear of adaptation/change as well; being even further ostracized for being ill. i don't want people to pity my sicknesses, but i also know that the result of being raised with so much abuse has permanently handicapped my growth as a person, and i'll realistically never make friends in a "normal" way again. i want to be healthy, i want to be able to have my jokes land and talk to people who think i'm nice and cool and interesting. i'm tired of constantly being alone. it's starting to seem like i'm just going to have to cope with the reality that i'm destined to be solitary. some of us don't get happy endings, i suppose. or at least happy adulthoods. maybe someday in the future i'll find a group of people like me, or at least who like me, and i won't be so lonely. but for now, i resign to this corner and write. maybe my time for socialization has been long expired. maybe i'm just not worth knowing anymore.
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june 27th, 2023.
i think nostalgia has deformed itself from a bittersweet sensation to a revolting chokehold over my mind & body. it's kinda like eating something and it becomes your favorite food, but after eating it nonstop for 8 weeks, you can't even smell it without getting violently ill. i've poisoned myself with the past.i wish growing up, i had annoyed my mother more with going outside and being a child. a proper one, at least. she would've said no, but regardless i would've at least tried to be a bigger activist for myself. maybe she was trying to protect me, by imprisoning me. kids are silent experts at ostracizing others. they'll never tell you how they get so good. but you feel it, whether on your face, or deep within the shadows of your soul. you have been branded, odd, forever. you'll never get it off. be as pretty as possible, strong, smart, accomplished-- it doesn't matter. you're still weird.

on a somewhat related note, i feel like i'll never truly know how to see myself. due to my schizophrenia, whenever i look within the mirror, all i see is either A.) my demented reflection, waiting for me to turn the lights off, or B.) nothing: just my head, hair, etc., but no facial features. they slowly fade into nothingness after two to three seconds. paired with my upbringing, seeing myself in pictures as the "funny/ugly girl", i slowly started to become ambiguous even to myself. people that have known me for nearly my entire life still struggle to recognize me. i showed my face to new friends yesterday, and was told that i'm "90s pretty", which was the first time i'd ever been called pretty, save for boyfriends and my mother. it struck a chord in my heart that i wasn't totally sure existed up until then. pretty. how addictive that word can be. staring at my hair, my nose, my teeth-- hyperfixating on which feature it is that could be the culprit for pretty, which could be the reason i was never called it prior. begging a piece of me to be seen by others as universally pretty. it's wonderful being a girl, isn't it?
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Echolalia