2022

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July

17 July 2022

Thus begins the disorganized internet log of things.

I spent most of the past week looking into the bibliography featured in House of Leaves. I'm not sure if it was the best use of time. Initially, I thought I would read all of the books (thank you, library), but I quickly discovered my lack of interest in architecture. At least I understand that they are the literal bibliography.

I watched Beetlejuice (1988), The Silence of the Lambs (1991), and The Number 23 (2007); also re-watched Donnie Darko (2001). Beetlejuice was the most enjoyable of the newly-watched movies - funny. Beetlejuice himself made some jokes that I wasn't too fond of . . . I think that the musical adaptation was much better in this aspect. And in general. The Silence of the Lambs was okay I guess. I think I've read the book too many times to enjoy the movie adaptation. It just didn't suck me in. The Number 23 honestly came across as an imitation of House of Leaves. The main character even thought that his wife - one of the few women who features prominently in the movie - wrote the book that he's obsessed with. No. It turns out that the main character wrote the book that he's obsessed with. Sounds familiar.

I read Alone, by Christophe Chaboute, this week. The first book of his that I read was Park Bench, which was a similarly enjoyable read. Both of these books focused on small aspects of daily life. No epic plots, just characters living their lives. Something about the way that he tells these stories still leaves me invested in what he's writing about. I recommend picking up one of these graphic novels - they are not a waste of time. I also read Confessions of a Baby Vamp: Letters to John Milton, by Ami Sanghvi, which was . . . fine i guess. The author has an interesting way with words. I'd recommend it to someone who's looking for something short and weird.

Stopped by the library yesterday and picked up Us (2019), Citizen Kane (1941), Punished by Rewards (by Alfie Kohn), and The Festival of Insignificance (by Milan Kundera). Looking forward into diving into these sometime this week. At least it's summer break. Not looking forward to college starting in a few weeks - goodbye free time. Still, I'll savor my summer while I still can.

One unhealthy turn down the pro-anorexia (aka pro-ana) side of tumblr has led me down the rabbit hole that is the coquette subculture. I did see a post on how TikTok has separated the appearance of coquette from what coquette is, as well as another post on how TikTok has homogenized coquette. There seems to be a certain type of ethereal feminine childness associated with this aesthetic. Also: Lana Del Rey. Unsure how long I'll spend looking at this rabbit hole.

20 July 2022

Got ice cream at a new place today (self: it's past the llamas). Chocolate ice cream with more chocolate toppings is amazing. Also, my sensitivity to lactose seems to have diminished? This is a new development that I am wary to explore further.

I've been working on a spreadsheet that takes every source - real or fake - from House of Leaves and notes a) whether it exists or not b) any other interesting information about it + c) if I own it d) if I have read/watched it. Some of the fake references do have interesting information - for example, Women Who Can't Love, by Steve Sokol and Julia Carter, is referenced on page 59 and does not exist; however, a book titled Women Who Can't Love, by the same authors, does exist. I'll gradually add that information to the House of Leaves section of this website as it comes together. It's nice to finally have the time to dedicate part of my summer to this book. Previous years have been spent on writing fanfiction for particular fandoms. Something about getting to understand parts of this one book that haunts (hah) my thoughts is wonderful.

Oh. Was also diagnosed with autism today. My mom cried. My response was closer to 'this could have been an email (instead of being a meeting) can i just go back to reading now'. . . which probably says something about me. I don't quite understand how this impacts my life. Or why this was necessary. (Two hours of my time was wasted on this! Two hours that I could have spent watching Game of Thrones. Right - against my better wishes, I've started reading A Game of Thrones and watched through the first season. It's actually good. I've held a one-entity boycott against the author due to his negative view on fanfiction for years. Then I had to read part of A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms for an English class. It was not bad. (cue angry happy growls at said teacher). I am hooked. Arya is a wonderful character who I like a normal amount. (I'm not obsessed with her. Yet.))

More writing rejections today - two, write in a row. That put a dent in my mood. Maybe something else will come back positive? Soon? My last acceptances were in May . . . . this is disappointing. So it goes.

Got my schedule for my first semester of college today. I am not looking forward to this - I've got seven hours of classes twice a week. This is rude. I'm going to drop one of them. I also know that everybody says not to buy textbooks before classes start . . . but only one of my courses has a reading list. And I like reading. Part of me just wants to get a head start / some level of pre-familiarity with the one class that I can dive into just to feel ready to take this class. Admittedly, new copies of all seven books of poetry come out to a hundred and thirty-three dollars on Amazon. So maybe not. Still planning on dropping by the local used bookstore sometime soon, so I'll see if any of these books happen to be there. Okay, mentioned classes, so here's my schedule right now: Electronic Media, World Theatre, Improvisation, Race & Poetry, and Radical Performance (that's the one I want to drop). Improvisation is only two credit hours, but that and first year seminar comes out to seventeen credit hours, which seems like a lot for the first term.

22 July 2022

I told myself I'd update this once a week. Well. That's not working out.

Bought some cheap lip gloss today. It's wonderful. This + red nails completes a pretty look. Casually pretty. Spent too much time looking at coquette pretty. Daisy sunglasses though. Maybe a blue sweatshirt, white adidas sweatpants, and pink flipflops . . . nah. Might try that pair of ripped jeans that I dislike and a casual button down? Hmm. Determine in morning.

I am watching Game of Thrones for Arya. Everybody else can rot in a hole. Arya is [happy static].

Scrolling through the internet has reminded me of how I feel about a guy. We'll call him Q. 'a guy' a former teacher of mine. My brain is doing the this person didn't treat me like garbage so i must remember every interaction with them and relive that every day thing. It's annoying. I'm grateful for what Q did for me / his temporary role in my life, but can't I just move on from it already?

Ah. Who am I kidding. I'm lonely, and he was the last person I saw who saw me as I am. Everybody's been treating me differently recently. I can't help but wonder if his attitude and behavior toward me would have changed if he knew I were autistic. If I saw him tomorrow, and that detail came out, would he treat me differently? I hope not. I'll never know. It just felt like he understood me more than anybody else I've talked to has. And he treated me like just another person - not a child, not a piece of garbage, not a genius, not an idiot, not a nuisance, just another student with questions about a particular piece of media. That was all. No complicated interactions, double meanings, or subterfuge (which is how interactions with my family are). Just existence. I guess I just miss the simplicity of it. Even though the 'interactions' I'm ruminating over are three proper conversations, and an embarassing array of minor interactions. I must have seemed so clingy. Q just didn't make me feel like a piece of shit. I didn't feel like I had to lie about every little thing to him - and I have to constantly lie to people just to be accepted by them. Argh.

Writing that out . . . I sound lonely. Maybe I am. The only people I've talked to in the past two months have been an array of medical professionals and a few family members. I'm not close to my family. Q was the last person I had an actual conversation with. I hate myself for this. But hey, maybe writing this down and shouting into the void of the internet will get me to stop.

24 July 2022

I don't feel like existing today. Signed up for the Sandman virtual screening . . . saw something saying that Dave McKean was involved in the credits, which is the only reason I'm now interested in it. Interesting media:

Thranduil CMV
Genghis Khan - Miike Snow

26 July 2022

I can't help but think that if I had been a better student - if my grades had just been a little higher - none of this would be happening. My life would be fine. I would be happy. I wouldn't think about B; he wouldn't even cross my mind. Just another teacher to be forgotten. Instead he haunts me and tells me that I deserved every single consequence of his verbal abuse. No. That's an exaggeration. I came to class, I messed up on a regular basis, and I shouldn't have been in class. I deserved to be berated for my bad grades. I worked my ass off - and spent twenty to thirty hours a week studying for his class (I kept a spreadsheet!) - but I could have done more. I could have sacrificed my English grade. I didn't need to practice my instruments. I didn't need to have a hobby. If I could have just done more, he wouldn't have continued to express how disappointed he was in me. I could have been better. I could have had better grades. I could have done more. It is all my fault.

But. It's been two years. Nightmares are not normal. Panic attacks are not normal. Do I still deserve these consequences? All I did was: have a handful of panic attacks + write a few subpar essays + be confused about one (1) due date.

I keep telling myself that I deserve it. I could have done better. But it's been two years and I still can't be in any sort of social science class - history or psychology. He taught sociology (though I had him for US History), so I'm not going to try that. Art history? Religious history? Philosophy? I don't think I could do it. Even my English classes have been harder. Scratch that: every single class was harder after his, because what if I messed up and what if I was berated and what if someone embarassed me in front of class and I could have studied more and why can't I ever be good enough. Walking into a social sciences class brings me from fine to panic attack in an instant.

Is that a trigger? Is that what being triggered means? I don't want to think of myself as traumatized. I'm fine. I can get past this. I haven't yet, but I haven't managed to do enough, so it's the summer before I start college and all I can do is think of how much I messed up in B's class and how I could have done better and how all I can manage to do is mess things up.

I've had a few songs on repeat today: "House of Memories" by Panic! at the Disco; "Donatella" by Lady Gaga; "Take Me To Church" by Hozier, covered by Eva Noblezada; and "The Killing Kind" by Marianas Trench. "Donatella" is the only fun one - look at the CMV I linked in my last entry. I love it.

Everything else is about Q, in some sense or another. It's mainly because I can tie them into House of Leaves, and I can't think of House of Leaves without thinking about Q. Why can't I move on? I need to. I try to, but I can't, because I'm desperate.

There isn't a proper desperate measure to take. There are no solutions to the problems that I've created - baring suicide, but I want to know the answers to the what-ifs: what if Q emails me? What if Q answers that last email of mine? I need to know what he thinks of these things I've made. I need his figurative seal approval. I need it.

I can give him a year. Maybe I'll move on from him by then. Maybe I'll want to live and I'll be happy. If not? Then it is time to end this. I'm tired and ready to find out what's next. The absolute nothingness - I don't believe in an afterlife, but there's only one way to know for sure. I've gone through this for years. I have a deadline. It depends on circumstances outside of my control, but what part of my life doesn't? The world is on fire, and I've got nothing else to live for. Just my incoherent words and phrases splattered against a screen. A writer? Don't make me laugh.

28 July 2022

Today is one of those days where I want to burn it all down. Remove every last piece of everything from my life. Pack up some food, water, and ID and take a long walk . . . and come right back home when my anxiety doesn't let me go past the driveway. What can I say - big elephants can't always use small exits; so it's all a lost cause. Though I will need to burn a box of papers. Maybe I now know (what I know now) is what to burn. Foundling too; that one has a weird smell. Yes. Burn it. I can always burn it when I'm done. I will burn it.

Other ways to go off the rails: buy a crop top. Drink a cup of coffee. Delete all of my email addresses. A small incision on my leg - ooh, tempting, a new sensation. Jump into the oven when I heat up french fries in a few minutes. Eat a tub of ice cream. Scratch that: eat an unripe banana. Email a love letter to nobody. Prank call. Speak to people. Delete it all. Twitter is functionless - I don't actually need it for professional reasons. Professional reasons are bullshit. I could get rid of all of the furniture in my room and just work off of the floor. Except there's no furniture to get rid of. My parents wouldn't let me. Maybe I can set it on fire. Arson. Burn down the house - spontaneous, and I'm the only one who doesn't survive. No. Too scared. Jump out the window? I don't want to go to the hospital. Hospitol. Al. Register for the test for my driver's permit. One of these days I'll have to get a driver's license. I'll have to learn to drive to do that. I don't want to learn to drive. I want to learn how to ride a bike, but (--too many bad memories--), so transport is imaginary. There's a bat in here. There isn't a bat in here; just a great big blob on the lamp that disappears when I look at it. I wish my bones would stop popping. I wish I could eat like a normal person. I took my sheets off the bed and dumped all of my dirty laundry in them (the physical dirty laundry, though maybe some of it is metaphorical), but now it's sitting next to me. For two hours it's been sitting next to me. I should go do the laundry. I don't want to. Isn't F using the laundry machine? They are. All of them are. That scratch on the wall doesn't bother me any more. Maybe I will make caffeinated coffee. Going downstairs (and getting those fries) means being around F; I can't handle that right now. Take a knife to F (four) - how's that for going off the rails!

Instead: sitting in bed. Wrists hurt. I don't know what I'm doing - I'm alone in hostile territories with no clue why they're hostile or how to get back to safe havens (House of Leaves; check quotes page for exact pg number).

31 July 2022

I'm fine again. Maybe. Who knows.

I've started reading Basic Writings by Martin Heidegger ed. David Farrell Krell and it is . . . something that I'm struggling to comprehend. This is a selection of parts of Heidegger's works. The first section is from Being and Time; 'being' appears so many times in a sentence! Take the following sentence (from pg53): "Rather [Dasein] is ontically distinguished by the fact that in its Being this being is concerned about its very Being." That's a lot of being . . . My basic understanding of what I've read so far:

Asking what is being? assumes being.
Ontic refers to dealing with being without questioning being.
Ontological refers to being.
Dasein is humans being.

Of course, I may be misunderstanding some of this. Philosophy is not within my realm of interest - I'm only reading this because Being and Time is mentioned in House of Leaves.

August

1 August 2022

I've continued to read Basic Writings (by Martin Heidegger). I'm still working through the introduction to Being in Time. I did find this video that was able to clarify my understanding of the text to a small extent. If I understand this correctly, Heidegger is saying that our understanding of being must be understood in context of how we 'be' around beings. Or: being in context.

I'm considering posting pictures of my bullet journal on here. Mine has an artsy lean to it; I used to post on Instagram, but it was boring. I do not like using Instagram, nor would I recommend that anybody else download it. It was great at fostering hollow connections - a constant stream of hollow comments on posts. It wasn't social media in any sense. Fake socializing. I'm sure that there are people who found value in it; for me, there was none. I'll be deleting my account soon. On the other hand (re: posting them on here), I don't like images. An easy to use text-based page is what I prefer; at this time, there's all of one image on this website, and I'd like to keep it that way. So maybe not. (Let's see how many times I can change my mind on that one).

Had a meeting this morning that is making me feel much better about college. Haven't solidified housing accommodations, but figuring out academic accommodations was a sigh of relief. I haven't had any academic accommodations before (just zeros and partial credit when I can't present), so having something in place that at least says something is making me feel optomistic. Admittedly, things may/will not always work out in a way that works for me. Still, it's a step forward. I can handle this. (Maybe. Maybe not. I can't burn it, but I can always drop out. Or transfer. That's probably the better choice.

I need to get myself to step back from spectating internet drama. I don't enjoy it - I just don't want to look away. I spent the past three hours watching The Right Opinion's video on Creepshow Art, and I wish I didn't. I wasn't even interested. The sheer amount of time I spend seeping up information about strangers personal lives isn't good for me. Other people are not my entertainment.

2 August 2022

Absolutely nothing.

That's a lie. Mara is back. Apparently I need to exercise more, eat healthy, be productive . . . the usual self-help shebang, just coated in different versions of this is all for your own good. I know I can stop her at any time, but there's a part of me that just wants to listen to her insult me. There's a part of me that enjoys finding a way to ruin my life. A self-contained route that I chose, if only so that I could feel like I have a purpose. She's silently seething on the ceiling. Oh well. At least she helps me forget about Q. I can't help but ruminate over him / if he'll respond / if if if.

I re-read it takes a dedicated hand (to put it through the wall) and Flowey Is Not a Good Life Coach. They're both good fics. It's weird to think that the Undertale phase of my life was five years ago; there's a chance that I've been re-reading Flowey . . . Life Coach for five years. Wow. I know I tend to reread things a lot (see Lemony Snicket (10+ years), Star Wars, Nocturnal Academy, Pebble in the Sky for the longest-reread ones), but it's strange to realize how long that's been. I'll be re-reading Darth Bane: Path of Destruction on my deathbed . . . or something. Probably House of Leaves. Yeah. That sounds about right.

3 August 2022

I don't remember writing the journal entries from the past few days. Hah. It's almost funny how much I forget - not just the things that happened a few moments ago. The days don't even blur together. They just disappear. At least Mara's gone. I don't know how I put up with her for a single day. Again? I think not.I must have gone to the library this morning. The new books:

Disfigured: On Fairy Tales, Disability, and Making Space - Amanda Leduc
Space Opera - Catherynne M. Valente
A Clash of Kings - George R. R. Martin

The first episode of Sandman was GORGEOUS. It's mainly here to provide context for later episodes. I love it. I don't want to leave any spoilers here (I say, as if spoilers haven't been released for decades), but I definitely recommend it. Even if you haven't read the graphic novels. Take a look. Neil Gaiman worked on the script for it - and isn't that enough of a reason to watch it?

They've decided to put me on anxiety meds. Starting tomorrow. Um. My initial reaction:

I should have been better at hiding my anxiety. Yeah, it wrecks my daily life, but I can do better than that. I am capable of doing better. I just need to get a grip on it.
They're lying about the side effects. They're going to be worse than they say. They're going to use it to control me. (I know that this is a lie.)
i can't do this.

I'm going to die of cringe tomorrow. If V sees this, I will die. He can't. By coincidence, but in actuality - well, I somehow doubt that this is his corner of the internet. Hopefully. What am I doing. Can I stop. There's something wrong with me - just another person ranting at the internet, not even trying because they're so tired, and we've heard all of this bullshit before (see, V, I can swear), and at this point we're just going to roll our eyes and move on. I want everything to stay the same, and I want everything to change; I think I just want to be dead (what a novel idea that you've dreamed of since you were a kid, good on you Zampano, you royal screwup - heh, Mara might not be here, but her words are, and I think she'll be happy to know that she still lives on, and she'll be back, because I know she will).

4 August 2022

Still reading that Heidegger anthology. I'm partway through an essay titled "What is Metaphysics?" It's been hard for me to understand it so far - I started out by reading each sentence and then writing down what I thought that sentence meant in the margins. Sentence by sentence - English to simpler-English translation. What I think I understand is humorous. In attempting to paraphrase some of what he's said: science is the study of what exists (or beings); however, it does not understand the existence of beings (or the being of beings). (Or: science needs to be put into context). Human existence guides our understanding. Science it rooted in what is concrete; thus it cannot understand everything. This is important when it comes to understanding the concept of nothing (from here on, I'll refer to 'the concept of nothing' as nothing). Science does not look at nothing, as science only looks at what is, and nothing doesn't quite fit into this. However, nothing is a part of being.

I'll leave the rest of this as a quote (emphasis mine) (from Basic Writings, by Martin Heidegger ed. David Farrell Krell, pg96):

Science wants to know nothing of nothing. But even so it is certain that when science tries to express its proper essence it calls upon the nothing for help. It has recourse to what it rejects. What incongruous state of affairs reveals itself here?

(...)

How is it with the nothing?

So: nothing exists. Nothing is not nothing. (At least, that's what I understand so far . . . I'll try to finish reading this essay tomorrow. We'll see what I think then.

The body text of this site used to be Spectral - now I've changed it to a default monospace. I've always envied it on other sites. And now, it's mine! I'm beginning to think about using a custom cursor here. A deer (in reference to P's deer-shaped locket) would be an interesting choice - or a match, for the Fuit Illium (thanks to these puppies) matches that Navidson uses / J's House of Leaves Matches. A normal cursor, but gold, referencing the compass on the cover? Hmm. A typical black cursor just references the hallway. That works well. I've also thought about adding a tape measure to one side of this - permanently affixed, and never changing . . . but those are decisions for a less time-pressed me to make.

Mentioned V to B1 . . . I have a hard time being normal about someone who is interested in House of Leaves. She did say I should email him. Which I should - some of the information in my last email was wrong, and I need to remedy that before he bothers to respond. The letter's date's importance is in reference to the Pelican Poem with a similar date. LOL.

5 August 2022

I did email him. You. I emailed you. Why not - you've already tainted my life, I might as well shoot another shot in a desperate plee for your attention. I'd die if he saw this. You saw this. I emailed you, and I'm jumping to the internet to yack at strangers about how I spent four hours working on an email for you, putting together all of that information (nearly a thousand words) just to talk to you. Is it because talking to you means talking about House of Leaves? That's all my email was about. I tried to capture a balance - useful information, in a semi-formal tone, before specifically adressing you. Saying that "You asked me what I thought" and continuing from there. Saying "I had wondered if you had any thoughts" on something else. Using the word "you" - that personal tinge, I think, but now, not even an hour after I hit send, and I already feel embarassed. Why am I still thinking about you. Why can't I just let go. Why do I do this. A weight lifted from my chest - but now I'm twitchy, sitting here, not asking the right questions (the minotaur, what do you think about the minotaur), ready to refresh my inbox just to see if you've replied.

6 August 2022

Added some more House of Leaves analysis! Okay, it's a major excerpt of that email I sent yesterday. Still. Adding some actual write up feels good. How about a link! I'm hoping to write up my thoughts on house being blue soon enough. Red and purple should follow quickly. A few other things that I'll add to the House of Leaves journal page because they aren't enough to warrant their own pages. Happy house dancing.

Interesting tidbit: textfiles.com had a few things that reminded me of House of Leaves. Johnny sometimes uses "ph" for f; also, this thing on luding. The latter may be more of a coincidence. Think about it later.

7 August 2022

Day 4 of taking Sertraline and I have lost my appetite, my anxiety is closer to paranoia, my daydreaming problem has taken a turn for the worse, I have very little interest in doing anything (however, my ability to focus on what I'm doing has increased?), I have very strong urges to take a vegetable peeler to my skin, and am nauseous + lightheaded (even when lying down or sitting); overall, I feel awful. The internet tells me that the first week of starting it can be rough, but yeesh. Here's hoping that I make it through the first week.

Had a nightmare last night where an English teacher was trying to kill the class by sending us into an alternate dimension before shooting all of us. She shot me, and I woke up. Got all of three hours of sleep. I guess I should be grateful for the five nonconsecutive hours I typically get. It's not helping with any of these side effects.

Site: started the exhibits section! So far it's just Exhibit A - Lyrics - Take Me to Church. There's a House of Leaves subsection coming soon. More lyrics. More triangles. Misc. I love it.

11 August 2022

So! Stopped taking Sertraline . . . yesterday? It must have been yesterday. Wow. I'm glad I wrote some of these diary entries. How little of these excerpts of my life I remember should be concerning. Right? I dunno. You could tell me that it's September 15th and I started college, dropped out, or something like that and I'd believe you.

My memory has always been shit. I think. My family regularly tells me that I'm misremembering an event that I'm repeating. I don't remember the major events that they talk about that I was at. I'm sure we had an Easter celebration this year. There's photos of it, and I'm in them, so it must have happened. I just don't remember any of it. At least my brain retains information from school.

I'm beginning to wonder if those interactions with Q were real. I want them to be. Then again, they were too good to be true. He was kind. He was interested in House of Leaves and he was interested in what I had to say about it. But if he were interested, he would have replied to that email. I just checked my inbox: I did write that email to him (and it's coherent!), but if he were interested, he would have replied. Or he's taking his time. Or there's some genuine reason in his personal life that explains why he hasn't replied. That's it. Right? Right. I need to stop having a crisis over him. I shouldn't have sent that email. Or either of them. Yes, that makes more sense. I emailed someone because of my daydreams. I spend most of my day daydreaming - it wouldn't be any surprise if those daydreams bled into my memories. It was real. It wasn't real. It's all a lie. Isn't the way every piece of media he recommended was something that I had heard of before a funny coincidence? The two books he recommended were on my to-read list. That short story? I probably read it in the Wikipedia article on Nabokov. La Strada? Heard of it while searching House of Leaves. Donnie Darko? I used to look for movies with time travel in them. It was probably mentioned. I probably emailed that short story to him because that other English teacher might have said I should. That . . . actually makes more sense. She had a positive reaction to it and Q worked on the student lit mag. Read student writing. Might even like reading student writing. Yes. A daydream.

I don't like my therapist. Her advice is standard self-help stuff I've heard on Google. Most other stuff she has to offer is what I've already worked through on my own. I've gone from "I must have done something to deserve the way they treated me" / "I was asking for it" to "all I did was carry a dictionary around" / "all I did was doodle" / "all I did was have a panic attack" / "all I did was read a book" / "all I did was exist". My existence is all it takes for people to hurt me, but that isn't my fault. I am not responsible for other people's actions.

Okay, there are exceptions to that statement. But the things that I still have nightmares about - the things that I blame myself for - are not my fault. To take one example: I was the new kid in a second-grade class. Of course I didn't have any friends! I had just moved into that area! They mocked me for being friendless before I had a chance to talk to people. That is not my fault. Another example: I exist in a female body. Y'know what? Getting unwanted attention for this is not my fault. How people talk to me and treat me because I have breasts is not my fault. Another: I have panic attacks. They aren't always at convenient times. This is not my fault. (I already go out of my way to make sure I'm not in any situation where having a panic attack could create trouble. Having a panic attack during a test retake hurts nobody. I did not deserve what my teacher said to me because of this. I won't bother to try to repeat his remarks here, but I didn't even say anything about it. I just assumed that I'd keep a 65 (instead of any grade that the retake might have given me). I asked for nothing. I did not deserve to be berated for hours on multiple occasions over a one-time event.

Wow. Writing that out? Another crisis - I could have tried harder - but no. I wish I could stop having nightmares and reliving events tied to that particular teacher. One of these days I will. (Another crisis - what if I'm making this all up?) It's just that writing that out seems so surreal. Too many parts of my daily life are influenced by events tied to that one teacher. It's been years since I last saw him. I need to stop blaming myself for what he did to me. This is not normal.

I've written more than usual today. I know. That therapy appointment today really got to me. Most adults don't take me seriously. The imaginary version of Q did; fitting that only an imaginary person would take me seriously.

Is any of this trauma? My therapist referred to my few mentions of middle school bullying as trauma before, but she said it so offhandedly that I don't know how to feel about it. And people only refer to people my age hurting me as trauma. Never how adults treated me. And - cue a usual statement - there are people who are genuinely traumatized who exist. Me adding the name "trauma" to events that I barely remember / might be making up / that everybody experiences at some point seems rude. Heh. If any one else repeated the sort of things I go through to me I would be concerned. I would look at their nightmares and panic attacks and exhausting vigilence and say that that's probably trauma. Me? No. I asked for it. I deserved it. Even if I think I didn't, I did, I must have . . .

How many days until I delete this? I'd write it in a physical journal, but my parents used to read my physical journal, so I know that that isn't safe. They've never said anything about knowing about my accounts online or reading anything in them. I think that they're too busy for that nowadays. College will be a different type of experience, but maybe it'll be easier. Being away from family is being safe and unsafe. I need them but need to exist without them.

I'm too exhausted to deal with this.

12 August 2022

Went to a restaurant with my parents AND managed to say my order! And even ask a question! (about what dressing options they had). I tend to need my mom to say my order for me, so this is an achievment. Yes. +1 for Zampano.

Considering trying exercise again. I always struggle with it. My main reason for exercising tends to be that my body needs it to continue to live a good life. On the other hand, I still want to be dead, so it's really hard to care about maintaining my body when I'd be happier if it stopped existing. Lights flashed as I wrote that and I'm now convinced that there's someone else in this room watching me. They just arrived - that's why the lights blinked - or it's a warning and I need to put my computer away and go to bed ASAP. It's waiting in the closet. Noh. It's out in the open. I can't see it, but I can feel it; I know it's there. It isn't there. Why do I do this.

Watched "Alice In Wonderland" - the disney version - tonight. It was fun! There's something about this particular animation style that's attractive to me. That, and the way that the story is perfectly nonsensical. It was a good way to spend an evening. I'd like to go to Wonderland.

Maybe it's time to do some cleaning.

I do not want to start lexapro / lexaprone? tomorrow. Sertraline's side effects seem to have worn off (bar the consequences of barely eating for a week), but I don't want to risk dealing with something like that again. And there's a part of me that just KNOWS that this won't work. The internet tells me that side effects can include insomnia OR sleepiness. I don't want either. I don't have the time for either. I hate this I hate this I hate this ihatethis.

I need to find new music to listen to. I want more queer artists - not just that one song (Gender Ender, by Mx Wander). If anyone is reading this and has music recommendations, send them my way. Please. Contact info is on the Introduction page. Send me a sign.

15 August 2022

Started a section that looks at a group of poems in House of Leaves! So far, it's just the last "Untitled Fragment" and "You Shall Be My Roots"; however, I have notes on "Love At First Sight" and "That Place" that are ready to be typed up. The first and second "Untitled Fragment"s are a bit of a mystery for me. "Love At First Sight" appears to reference War and Peace and is on the same page as the first fragment - maybe this means something? Ah, that's a major reach. This section has clearly cemented the Z-J connection. Unfortunately. I've liked to believe that all of the stories are simultaneously true; however, I'm being driven to the conclusion that this is false.

Madisyn Brown's recent video essay, titled gen z get some DECORUM, clearly put together the identity issue that gen Z has been experiencing because of the pandemic. TikTok is genuinely harmful and has had far-reaching effects into daily lives. It seems to reward people for immaturity / attention-seeking behavior; people want to be TikTok famous, so these behaviors become a part of their life so that they can get their fame. "People will be trolls on the internet, but now they're being trolls in real life" (16:31). This is also true! There are some troll behaviors that exist on the internet that can be fun on the internet, but this doesn't translate into real life. I also like how she talks about the homogenization of aesthetics. Highly recommend checking out that video.

19 August 2022

My dad doesn't understand me. He doesn't try to understand me. Then he walks back whatever he just said to agree with my mom, who has a much better understanding of me than he does. He doesn't even listen to me when I do try to talk to him, since he'd rather talk over me and jump to conclusions while scrolling through his phone before rushing out of the room, only to try to repeat that conversation with no different result. Most days it just feels like he's a visitor in my life. It's always been this way. I know, I know, his work is important because his income is necessary and we should all be more grateful for what he does for us, but he doesn't know any of his kids. Even when he isn't working, he'd rather be working on his hobbies than doing anything to help around the house. On the rare occasion he is at the dinner table, he'd rather be scrolling through his phone than participating in conversation. It's always been this way.

My therapist didn't show up to my appointment. I had to be the one to text her - hey, did I have the wrong time - only for her to text back a half hour later to let me know that she forget and how does this other time sound for me. She's always been scatterbrained - I'll mention things and she won't even remember them the next time we meet - but straight up forgetting? If she wasn't going to be able to see me, she could have at least let me know. I'll only see her two or three more times, though, so at least that'll be done soon. She is not the therapist for me.

Falling down the fake disorder cringe subreddit was enlightening. No wonder my teachers needed to see me having panic attacks to believe that this was actually a problem for me (and even then, one teacher thought I was faking them). I have no idea how much of this fake disorder stuff they run into, but maybe that's a reason why teachers rarely believed me.

Another day, another crisis over Q. It's been two weeks. And two weeks + two months. He doesn't owe me any response. I know that. What sort of former-student emails their former-teacher some analysis of a book that both of them had read months after they last saw each other? (An attached one, that's who). I'm being a creep. I know. This plot-line hasn't had any clear closure, which is making it hard for me. It's a loose thread. Real life is full of abandoned plotlines. I should be able to let go of this one, except it's been almost three months since I last saw him and I still can't get him out of my head. He was kind and he listened to me and he was interested in what I had to say. He was just being a good teacher and I was the student who turned into a creep. Fuck. I am acting weird. I know that I don't get to have friendly contact with other people and that I don't deserve for people to be nice to me because it always turns into this sort of thing where I'm attached to someone who never thinks about me and they become everything I think about because they were kind and I'm not. This is my consequence. I took him for granted and now he just hopes that I never contact him again. Except now I'm making this all about myself. There could be a perfectly logical reason for this. He never saw the email, he hasn't had the time to respond to the email, or he's sick and can't respond to it right now. He doesn't know how to respond to it and so he hasn't. What sort of person would respond to ramblings about a book. Fuck. Why can't I just limit myself to rambling in a physical journal (because my parents will read that, that's why) or just keep my thoughts to myself.

I like reading other people's blogs. That's why I maintain this section. The minutia of other people's daily lives do fascinate me. What are their hobbies? What are their jobs? What's their day-in-a-life?

Maybe it's because they're happy and I'm not. Or they come across as being happy. They might even know who they are. Me? I latch on to real-life strangers who are kind to me and make them the center of my life. Their interests are my interests. I want what they want. I worship them and want them to worship me, until I hate them because it finally hits me that they don't care about me. It's a string of near-parasocial relationships that I don't know how to escape. I won't escape Q until I find another person to be stuck on - Q made me move on from B who made me move on from J who made me move on from other B who made me move on from . . . ARGH. Is it that I just want a friend and don't know how to handle that desire? That I know that nobody can stand me for more than a few weeks (days? moments?) so I try to make them stay just to hold off on the inevitable conclusion? This isolation is good, maybe, and maybe one of these days I'll let go. Let it go. Back to Q, playing that in class as part of a presentation. I'm so tired.

21 August 2022

Time has gone wonky. It's these damn pills. I don't like this at all.

Not one little bit>

I'm reading through these entries and realizing that I keep changing the pseudonyms that I use for people in my life. Though they tend to blur together in real life, so that makes some sort of sense. I'm just tired of it. Why do I keep doing this to myself? Why can't I stop myself? Why can't I change?

I am incapable of change. I've become better at pretending that I've changed - maybe - but I am not capable of change. Rotten to the core. I sound like a wannabee-edgy teenager, don't I? I can always burn it when I'm done. Burn it all down. I'll tear this whole facade to the ground. Perhaps I'll vent it into a fanfic. That might solve a few problems. Yes. Let's. Except I can't not be paranoid. What if someone finds it, what if he finds it, what if you find it, I'll die if you touch me, he touches me, he never touched me or even bumped into me though we almost did that one time, both of us staring at the ground and noticing each other just in time to not run into each other, you said hi and I said sorry which summarizes our character dynamic. Dynamite. I'd burn it down, but I don't want to burn you down. I don't want to watch as you burn in a fire. I've set myself on fire. Maybe I do need more food. I've spent my whole summer obsessing over you and I'm modifying my classes for next year and wondering if you would find them interesting and what classes you would choose and what can I do to make you happy, it's either you or the house and I don't know which one is more important because you are inseparable. Are / not. Three of the DVDs I purchased were because of you and I can't even remember your face, just that you were wearing all black on the last day of school and seeing you in a black sweatshirt? hoodie? seemed out of character but I was wearing a jean jacket which was also out of character and I handed you those books and fumbled a conversation because you are eloquent and I can't bridge the gap between my brain and my mouth well it's a poorly constructed bridge that isn't always functional.

I don't know when to stop. Bad Apple is stuck in my head. Change is coming winter is coming and that's enough. Wallow. Can I have one more consistency and can it be you. Ever on and on I continue circling with nothing but my hate in a carousel of agony till slowly I forget and my heart starts trembling and suddenly I see that I can't break free and maybe it's a dream maybe nothing else is real but it wouldn't mean a thing if i told you how i feel if i make another move there'll be no more turning back and it'll never be the same and it all will fade to black will tomorrow ever come will i make it through the night will there ever be a way for the broken in the light am i hurting am i sad should i stay or should i go i've forgotten how to tell . . . or the rest of the lyrics because it isn't like i know what i'm doing anymore. i need to do something. you can't be on my mind when i start college. throw myself into science? that didn't work the last time i tried it, and the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, but it's you and not him, and maybe that will / won't be enough because it never will. why do i do this. why can't i stop. what am i doing here and how did i get here (it started in first grade with jennifer and her friends and then the entire second grade class and i don't remember third grade the friends in fourth grade ellie in fifth and ryan and co. in sixth and then dylan and co. in seventh and the things with j in eighth and then it all began to fall apart because that's when the panic attacks started and the toll of a decade's worth of bullying had begun to appear. it's with me every day and i pay for my existence every day because it isn't a comfortable existence because of all of those memories and the way everybody laughed at me because iw as always different. make it stop. please. stop.)

25 August 2022

Waking up happy is always a cause for concern. I don't know what's wrong with me - I should be grateful for this, but I know that this is going to go away, so why even bother.

26 August 2022

I feel like Johnny's fake journal entries. The ones that claim that he is seeing a doctor and is alive and well and just needs those pills of sunshine. The ones that he made up in two hours. I'm not making up my . . . happiness. Pleasentness. It's genuine, and I will savour it while it lasts.

I've had a few moments of clarity with regards to Q. V. My inconsistent names for him. His tendrils have wrapped themselves around so many parts of my life. I don't want to intentionally take any of that with me to college. This has meant leaving a few things at home that I thought I was going to bring, but fuck it. I don't need to be trying to please a man that I will never see again. (I know, I'll still try, but I won't enable myself). College will be a new life. I'm bringing my emotional baggage / non-physical baggage with me. I can lighten this load. I can do it. I can manage it. This is going to be fine.

29 August 2022

I'm hungry! For the first time since I started trying medication, I actually feel a need to eat food. Minor victories. While I'm not entirely sure if this medication has had much of an impact on my life yet, I think the decreased journal entries here are a sign that it has done something. The only thing in my daily life that has changed is that I'm taking a pill in the morning. I've spent more time doing things that I have to focus on in the past few days. That sounds like a clear impact on my depression; we'll see about the anxiety once school starts. I wouldn't say that my depression is gone, but it does feel weaker. I am looking forward to starting college. It might be the last kick in the butt that I need for things to start falling into place. It'll be a struggle, but I can learn how to function in this new environment.

I'm currently reading Darth Bane: Path of Destruction, by Drew Karpyshyn. It's the one Star Wars book that I still re-read. This book follows Darth Bane and the creation of the Sith and the Rule of Two that exists in the modern-era of the Star Wars universe. The book takes place long before any of the movies do, so none of the beloved Trilogy casts are present. Some of what Des said at the beginning of the book sounded like disillusionment with the system while also working with the system to one's advantage. It feels like it's been infused with some version of "work hard enough and you'll get what you deserve." (The Protestant work ethic?). I recommend the book to people who people who enjoy Star Wars and want to read something that isn't stooped in lore.

30 August 2022

The next few weeks are going to be a class in not-enabling myself. Many of my bad habits come from things in my environment that I cannot fix / things whose solutions appear to be too inconvenient. They are not inconvenient solutions; however, I've convinced myself that they are. College is the new environment that I need to stop enabling myself. Now, I've blocked websites, deleted apps, and left unnecessary belongings behind. I'm not planning on adding a slew of new habits to my life when I've moved out. I need time to adjust; I won't have the energy to do all the self-improvement bullshit that the internet claims I need. I've just decided against taking negative aspects of my life with me. I can do this.

September 2022

1 September 2022: September 1st, 1989. Dear diary. I believe . . . something about good people.

Had an hour long panic attack today. I think that's a new record. It might have been multiple panic attacks bluring together - I'm not sure, and I don't want to think about it. I moved into my college dorm today. There are orientation activities going on right now that I'm not going to because I can't handle this. Didn't eat dinner - panic attack started when I was trying to walk to the dining hall. Hoping that tomorrow morning will be better. It has to be. I'm hungry and thirsty and exhausted. Anxious. I don't have the time to deal with this.

I'm going to use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and watch Donnie Darko. That's all. I can do it.
3 September 2022: It looks like I take my problems with me wherever I go. I'm struggling. I keep having panic attacks and I still don't know how to talk to people. I'm tired and anxious and sad and lonely and don't know how to deal with any of this again. Things never change. This medication isn't even helping me. Maybe things will improve when classes start. I'll be able to throw myself into schoolwork. Try to take 20 credit hours - if I can - because I might as well overwork myself. It might make me happy. If I do that every term, I'll be able to graduate early.
8 September 2022: I've been eating more recently. I'm a bottomless pit, even though I seem to be losing weight. I drank a cup of coffee but it did nothing for me. I've spent more time outside than I have all summer. Yet it feels like everything is going downhill. I feel like garbage. I'm tired and don't have much interest in doing anything. I can get things done, mind you - I've done what's required of me. I even have an appointment with a therapist! (Here's hoping I can stick around until said appointment happens). And weekly appointments with someone from academic services. I haven't talked to any of my classmates. I don't know the other people in my dorm. I sit alone at the dining hall. I want to change this and don't know how and don't have the energy to figure it out. This is the rest of my life, so I kind of just wish that I were dead. Passively. I'm not actively suicidal, but I'm below my usual standard of not doing well. It's exhausting. Why can't I just be happy.
15 September 2022: The past few days have been amazing. I re-organized my room and am so much happier with it. I also took out the trash + recycling. Hopefully, I put them in the right place. I'll do my laundry when I go home this weekend. I also did a lot of cleaning - it took 8 Clorox wipes for the windowsill to improve. The brooms that have been floating around the hallway took care of the spiders on the ceiling. Also took a lamp that was sitting in the hallway for three weeks. Made some major changes to my schedule - dropped the world theater class, added a bebop class, and hope to add this other music-based class. I'm going to it today to see if I actually want to add it. Other than that, my schedule is working for me.

The music building is creepy. There have been multiple times where I hear humming coming from empty rooms. All of the practice rooms have pianos (some multiple), which has been wonderful. It's nice to get back into practicing piano. There's also a music library that I've fallen in love with. I have yet to get books from the regular library, but I was able to grab the score for a clarinet sonata by Francis Polenc, one of Ives' symphonies, and Largo for clarinet, piano, and violin; also by Ives. I want to learn the piano and clarinet parts of the latter.

Watched Metropolis in the media studies class. It seemed to say that the working class needed someone to help them to communicate with the upper class. Because of this, I'm not sure that it's pro-worker's rights.
21 September 2022: I spent too much time searching about him on the internet. I spent too much time looking through his teacher website, looking at the movies he has linked, wondering what he thought about the movies that both of us have watched. A college paper of his that was published in a particular journal is open in another tab right now - of course it's actually interesting to me, though I need to do some background reading to have a better understanding of it.

I need to drown. I want to take so many credit hours to be drowning in schoolwork, but I can't even get myself to keep up with schoolwork, because I just don't want to. I just want to see him again. Or talk to him. Could he reply to an email? Could he please? There's only two emails that I sent him - the second a reply to the first - and even a simple "huh that's interesting" would.

It wouldn't do. I need a lengthy response, a criticism, a sliver of praise. I need him to prove that he read it and I need him to validate the amount of time I spent writing those emails. One in June, one in August. Please.
22 September 2022: Started seeing a new therapist. Hallucinations and delusions during panic attacks are normal, which is a massive relief to me. This has happened a handful of times, but those handful of times were terrifying. zero out of ten do not recommend. House of Leaves includes a character with schizophrenia, so I had that on my mind whenever it happened. But! It's fine! celebratory noises.

I think I'm settling into college. Currently taking 18 credits and handling it - might bump up to 19 for a viola class. Might. Things may change; we'll see.

I was almost in tears before I started writing this. Now I sound like I'm fine. I'm not okay. I'm tired and sure I can handle the schoolwork but I'm tired of the swing of sometimes i'm up / sometimes i'm down, because can't my mood just stay in one place for multiple days? instead, one moment i'm suicidal, the next i'm on top of the world, except that one's a constant part of the day because i have to cycle through them too quickly. i know mood changes are normal. it's all normal. everybody else but me can handle it. why can't i handle my mood changes. why can't i make them stop.
23 September 2022: I'm so tired. Can I please have a yellow shine tablet. Or a car with a trunk that is empty except for the fain glint of two guns lying side by side next to a Weatherby 300 magnum. (House of Leaves, page 509). Could running help? Just run for half an hour - as if that could help anything. No. I'd overthink it. Well, run down, back, shower.

I am much improved. My friends have been taking care of me full time. I exercise twice a day. They've got me on some pretty serious health food.

It was all a lie, but if it's my lie? Would making it my li(f)e change anything?

Instead, I scrubbed my dorm room floors for three hours. They look better. I've put five hours into these floors and they're halfway done. Now I need to put together my schedule for tomorrow and eat dinner. Oragami and House of Leaves and sleep.

I just exercised. That and the floor scrubbing absolutely counts as two sessions of exercise. I'll be sure to eat some "serious health food" for dinner. No ice cream or desert for me. No yellow shine tablet twice a day either, but one white pill in the morning is enough. It hasn't done anything that I'm aware of yet. No daily counseling, but therapy once a week, which is close enough. No lies yet. I'll let you know what happens tomorrow.

I keep thinking that you're reading this. Wondering, thinking, knowing. Email me if you are. Or don't. I have no control over your actions; you owe me nothing (and I owe you everything, including distance, because it's better for us if I let go). Farewell for now.
25 September 2022: I shouldn't have talked about Mara. But I believe Mara. I've exercised twice today, and I think I've eaten some serious health food, though maybe I'll try an orange tomorrow morning. Why did I make an appointment with the resume guy. I need to get a job. I can't do it - why should I trust them? They've poisoned the water already -- can't trust the washing machine, or is it the dryer that will fry them -- doesn't make sense. I know that doesn't make sense. Why do I think it makes sense.

And I mentioned Q. I mentioned Q, and it did feel good to talk about him. Him and Mara are the most distressing parts. I want Q to stop being a constant part of my life. He's only an impression of the real Q, but it's a constant impression who is sitting next to me and chuckling at the fact that I'm writing about him, why write about him when I could just talk to him? I think he understands the importance of it, but he doesn't want to. Doesn't want me to?

Mara tried to make me cut myself as penance. I couldn't. Thank you, body, for having one self defense mechanism still in place. Self preservation. At least it's something. She also wanted me to jump into the lake, but it's poisoned, and she doesn't want me dead. She doesn't have meaning when I'm dead. Please don't make me stop. I want to write. I want something, I want peace, and if it could all stop - - ?

The therapist asked if I thought it was more than daydreaming. I don't like that. They're just daydreams - daydreaming² - Daydreaming II: Electric Boogaloo. That's all there is to it. It's not even maladaptive daydreaming. I hop into that subreddit and people need music to daydream and they pace around. I don't do that. So all I do is normal daydreaming. Did I put down the wrong date yesterday? Merge entries?

A physical journal isn't safe. Why is the internet safe. I love reading diaries from strangers, and I never hurt them, so you won't hurt me. You won't contact me. I hope you read it and reply. That would make me happy. It wouldn't fix anything, though. It'd just be another brick in my wall of doom.
26 September 2022: If I soaked all of the tea in a mug, it would make infini-tea. Started handwashing some clothes. Wonder if they'll ever dry. At least I'll have more clean socks and underwear - enough shirts and pants for weeks, at least, one thing is fine. If I broke it it would be gone and I just might be happy because I don't like either of these mugs. I don't want them. Can I put them in the trash? Burn, break, drop it on the floor (teacups) (time) (shatters). (/ed). (red?). Didn't exercise, but Mara is pleased with my decluttering. You don't need it, she says, it's rude and you hate it so won't you get rid of it?

I'll exercise and I'll eat and I'll brush my teeth and floss and then I'll get rid of three more things? ten more things? i like threes, but Mara likes tens, so that turns into thirty. Okay. I've already counted one ten, and I'm sure there was one ten before that, so there's only one more ten. A cup of tea counts. A toe counts, but that'll hurt too much (more ways than one), and the house does count, so that's nine, a dead pencil and two dead markers eight seven things left. Seven is involved in magic. Could I re-read We Have Always Lived in the Castle. Would it hurt. No, I have that - carnivorous carnival - next. Instead. Yes, I can read that, and then it too can go home when I go home and do my laundry. How much more can I lose. All of it. I want it all to go, but so much is going to go, and I"ll take the rest back to throw it all away because then it will leave and I will have peace. Goodbye. See you later - twice today, maeks up for the twice exercise, and I feel like it so I will. My lover's got humor but there's not love in sight. blood // water is stuck in my head, next to the killing kind, but when isn't that (+magnus) stuck in here. I should go now. Maybe the clothes will dry while I'm gone. I'll cut my hair (to make you stare) after that weekend. Take off enough to make sure that everything can fit in those two bins and those bags because I can get rid of it all gone. Close closer yet dark darker yet. now i'll go, okay, have a good day.
28 September 2022: I didn't take my meds today. I took half a dose yesterday and the day before, but I'm feeling better than ever. My love is the killing kind it ain't the killing kind that's good / great / grand / swell isn't it. Gonna go and practice. Gonna eat lunch. Gonna edit that essay. Who knew how useful Q could be. More classes added to the spring curriculum, excited, will have to apply for one of them because it just sounds so interesting. I'm so cold. Everything is blurry. I need to take the trash out of my room. And the recycling. Mara is happyh with the progress. I can't wait to be rid of it all. There's an entire bag of things that will go home, didn't need all those water bottles, broke a mug to get rid of it, the other one will go home and I will never need it again. Didn't need the lamp. There's that recycling on the floor that I'll be rid of soon. Maybe this time it'll be enough. I didn't spend long scrubbing the floors yesterday, but it looks much improved, health hasn't much improved, I don't know what else to get rid of. Oh. I'll put the tarot in the take home, since I haven't been using that at all. Overload on music next term, music dance math physics, and I hope that it will make sense in the end. Use the bathroom and leave soon. My voice abilities are improving. Annoyed that I have to write that essay. Four more weeks of jazz history before I get to take physics and viola. Very excited to take viola. I'll sound terrible, but I'll learn how to play it. And I could take voice lessons next semester. I think that I will try. I have to audition, and I hate auditioning, but know that I'm an alto and that will make it easier on me. I want to learn more from Sweeney Todd. I'll check the school store later today - what books do they have, maybe they have something that sounds interesting. Need to learn where the laundry machine is. Why couldn't they have told us where all the things that we need are. And the mail room. Figure it all out later, time to go, say goodbye.

I'm worried that I'm lying. I keep telling stories and I'm not aware of it because of how real they are to me. Why do they have to be real. I want it all to hit undo, go back to normal, I feel like something isn't right but I don't know what / why / how / when. I'd like it all to go away. Pretty please. I have decided to ask you to please go away. Will you please go away?
29 September 2022: I'm Greg. Or I'm into Greg? Not in a romantic way, just in an I am a disaster who likes being around other disasters. What's worse than one disaster? TWO DISASTERS. Voila.

The Googling bit was creepy. I need to stop that. Give me a moment; I'll unbookmark his website. There. Done. I'm not a creep who spent multiple hours looking on the internet for a former teacher . . . lol. Wow. My brain is a bit messed up. We've gone so far sideways that I'm off the charts. I didn't take my meds today either. This has had its ups and downs - bad stomach pain, bad headaches, bouncy ball mood that may or may not be related. Wow. My emotions are all over the place. I have an assignment due tomorrow that I haven't started yet that I just don't care about doing. I'll save it for tomorrow and turn it in late. Who cares. The paper is going to be a bit more of a problem, but I've at least gotten through the second draft. Almost through. One more re-write and it'll be done. Did the laundry. Mara doesn't think the water's poisoned any more, but she's been very quiet - yes you have, shut up. yes i am the slut. stupid bitch - but i don't need to lose some weight. both of us know this. and hey, i ate fish, which was good. shut up. and I took the trash out, and the recycling, and now i have clean sheets and blankets and towels. and floors. i love all my clean floors. things are a bit of a mess, but i'll get it taken care of. at least the war is over. lift your head and look at the window. stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time flow. listen: the birds sing. i'll finish it. one of these days i will.

wow i am such a mess. just gotta let the internet know how much of a mess i am. hope y'all are entertained. i sure ain't. feel free to say something. i am a creep.. i'm teh trent here, but i don't care about spelling right now, and i never even went to harvard. barely in a school. stop me. help me. save me. cue my own internal drama because i don't know when to shut up. a squirrel growled at me today. then it ran up a tree. so cute. just wanted to give it a hug. or pet it. there are so many squirrels around here that are so used to people that they will be an arm's distance away at any time. picturesque. one of these days i'll pet one. that is / not safe.

October

1 October 2022: Revelation time:
One of my problems with daydreaming is NOT that I'm daydreaming. I'm talking to myself. Talking to myself - for example, trying to figure out how to write approach an essay topic - is normal. It's that I let a conversation between myself and myself turn into a conversation with myself and a fictional version of a real person / another fictional character. I frame talking to myself as talking to someone else.

That doesn't explain everything. But I think that that's a concrete thing that I can work on.

I just need the side effects of going off of my meds to go away. Once that's over with - in another week? two? end of the month? - I'll be great. Those meds are why I was so sluggish all of the time. Once I get over these side effects, I'll be full of energy. I'll be amazing. I'll have a will to live. Scratch that, those weren't present full-time before or while taking meds, but at least going off of them gave me a burst of energy.

I won't need therapy. I just need my brain to start behaving. I'll go back to normal. I'm fine. Just need this brain to stop with this stuff. Are these the brain zaps that reddit spoke of? Hmm. They'll go away at some point. That's all I need. Tomorrow's a schoolwork day, so I have to be fine. There's an essay to finish.

Brain zaps and vertigo. So much. I'm more dizzy than I want to be more often than I can stand. I don't like it when I'm sitting in bed and feel dizzy. I don't like tripping over my own feet, or walking around and being hit with another wave of dizzy, and I just need this stuff to stop so that I can be fine again.
4 October 2022: I don't know why listening to people on phone calls is more annoying than overhearing other people's conversations when they're physically in the same room, but it is. (Especially when someone is facetiming / videocalling someone else and ends up putting me in the background. That one is outright uncomfortable).

Printed some music today. Applied to five more internships, which puts me at ten more places that I'm waiting to hear back from. Hopefully I'll get a positive response from one of them. There is a fellowship I'm going to apply to tonight, and then a museum internship. I don't have much hope for any of them, but if I submit enough applications, I'll get something . . . right? I'd at least like to hear back from something soon. Even if it's a no. For my peace of mind.

Everybody is supporting my decision to stop taking medication but berrating me for suddenly quiting it without talking to anybody or gradually weaning off of it. That's fine. I'm fine. I've been much more productive since I stopped taking it, and I don't think that that is a coincidence. I have gotten a lot more work done than usual. I've spent time on my hobbies, and I'm getting schoolwork done and meeting deadlines well ahead of time. I'm happy with this. This is what happy feels like. I think this is actually what happy feels like. Just gotta get a YES from someone soon. Then it's all good.

There are four more internships I have saved. I think I can knock out the cover letters for them tonight. Four more applications. That sounds doable. Then there's some groupwork for my postmodern interpretive dance class (that isn't what it's actually called. just a good joke) that isn't going to be done in time. On the other hand, people are inconsistent about getting work done for that class anyways . . . I'll be surprised if anyone will have it done by the due date.
10 October 2022: Something about the phrase "I'm lost and the shadows keep on changing" still rings true. Or maybe it's just the I'm Lost part that rings true. gather up the splinters build a casket for my tears because I'm still talking too / about / to you. Are you. I considered that email. I considered. i just want a crumb. can't i stop. I'm happier now that I've stopped meds, though the psychiatrist is going to want to poison me again tomorrow, but you have no power over me, so that's that. shut up. i'm fine. be quiet. i'm lost inside and no longer convinced there's a way out. there are no safe havens. they weren't real to begin with.

none of it is, though, so i suppose it doesn't matter much either ways. ordered makeup and perfume two different companies WHY htat's more money, not even on the crap i actually need, should have purchased, will purchase soon just to make my life easier. done with school for the day though i do have more to do and maybe i'll work on it, maybe not, who cares.

why can't i be happy.
why am i stuck in the body of a melodramatic teenager.
you're in college. nobody cares. get over it already.
ah, fuck. he covered that one already, but i can say it anyways, door slams so maybe i'm still worth nothing. i'll order it soon i swear just let me be happy first? am i even better when i'm off of meds? i thought so - i hadn't updated this all week, and those updates always seemed to signify a certain decline, so i must be changing something, though it doesn't feel that way because nothing changes and everything stays the same. i wish the heating worked. nah. rot in your misery. nothing can protect me from my misery / self why can't it just stop. please stop. i am asking you to please stop. please stop. i have decided to ask you to please stop. will you please stop / go away / leave me alone / i wasn't done talking / you aren't listening to me. stupid emotions i'd like to murder them too.

It's probably for the best. I'm a crazed former student who thinks too much (too highly) of you. Unless you're some kind of Humbert (in which case, get away from me you creep / let's make bad decisions together / why the fuck is that my brain), this is something that wouldn't end well. For me. You've never thought twice about me. I can't assume this, but it does feel safe to assume, and I'm glad that it is that way because I would think that it was weird if you did think about me as often as I think about you. I guess I just do and do not want to hear from you again. Closure, but there's no form of closure when my fixated-on-you brain is in charge of my emotions. Yes. This is for the better. I need to move on and I don't know how but I'm trying. I just thought too highly of you and I'm so tired of getting this way about people. Can I stop it? I want to stop it but don't know where to start. Things that I can't remove from my life are tainted by you. I think I'm getting better. Improving. You aren't the first thing that comes to mind with that book, but the second, but that's better than being first isn't it. Something else tonight. I can get through this.
12 October 2022: I don't know why or how I'm here. What am I doing. What's wrong with me. There is something wrong with me, I think, with all of this isolation and avoiding people and complete incapability of talking to other people. They all have their own lives and I don't deserve to be a part of their lives. I never learned how, and it's impossible to fix it because it's literally ingrained in me. You made me think that change could happen, and then you pointed out exactly why it couldn't happen. Fuck it all.

I wish there was a burn it all down moment for me. But I'm not even relevant enough for anything I do to mean anything.

I know this isn't right. Why must I be like this.
14 October 2022: One of my classes today included someone saying "Spirk and cock" instead of "Kirk and Spock." (Or Spirk). Either way, that class devolved into a few minutes of being horny on the main, except the main is in a discussion with a professor who is having an unclear but unsurprised reaction. Thankfully, the rest of that class is now aware of the glory that is Spock/Kirk. Hooray for slash ships.

C - a math teacher - might be aware that something's wrong with me. Or at least concerned with me. I accidentally let it slip that I've never left campus. Some have said that I'm going to go stir crazy. Hiking out to a barely on-campus building is enough for me.

I still feel like crying. Maybe it's because I'm listening to a group of people hanging out. They sound so happy. Just enjoying company. There's a party tonight, but I could never go to that. Too much for me. They're leaving now. It's fine. I'm fine. I could be happy. I just need to figure out how.
17 October 2022: My hands are dead today. I think it's the cold weather. It's going to keep being a problem. I don't know how I'm going to handle this. If I think about anything for too long I feel like crying. I can't think. Found a vending machine yesterday; food from it tasted stale, but that's fine, because food is food. Dining hall food doesn't taste great anymore. Don't know what I'm going to do about that. Everything keeps going too well and I'm waiting for it to all fall apart. It will happen. I know it will. I just don't want to deal with it.
20 October 2022: I WAS RIGHT. Someone popped a balloon and I had a string of panic attacks, dropped my lunch in the dining hall, submitted a course withdrawal form (though I still need to explain that to get it approved), skipped a class, decluttered things unnecessarily (more like purged my possessions, even things that I use on a regular basis), more panic attacks, went to a class, cue another panic attack . . . argh. I don't know how to handle this. Just as soon as I start to get used to something that made me feel uncomfortable BAM and I can't go back and I can't handle anything. I want to run away from all of it and I need to because there is no such thing as a safe place. Why does this always have to happen. It has to happen.
24 October 2022: After the rollercoaster that was the past few days, things are looking up. Going home might have helped. I'm looking at transferring colleges - I was able to find a place that is closer to home, costs less, and has the major I'm looking for (Education! They have a program specifically for secondary-school English / licensure / that kind of thing). They even have nicer housing than my college does. Hopefully, I can get in and transfer next semester.

I picked back up my copy of Basic Writings by Martin Heidegger. I read "What is Metaphysics?" last time I looked at it, and thought I was able to get a pretty good understanding of what he had to say. My math class keeps talking about the concept of infinity, and I feel like what Heidegger said about the concept of nothing in that essay is related to this. They're both defined without being defined. Or maybe they're an inverse of each other. Nothing is what does not exist, but the concept of it does exist. Infinity is every number that exists, but it is only defined by this. We can't grasp infinity. I'm not sure that we can grasp nothing either - is it a _____? Well, filling in that blank is creating something that isn't nothing. Hmm. The point of this paragraph was supposed to be to say that I'm going to start reading the next essay in this collection, titled "On the Essence of Truth." Maybe that will offer some answers. Or more questions - but sometimes a question is an answer to another question. It guides you to something.
29 October 2022: "Things are looking up." Why am I always so naive. Of course they aren't. Things go right back downhill. I'm right back to where I belong because it's what I deserve and it's what I keep choosing. I could have gone to that radio event, since I'm involved so I was supposed to be there, but everybody else kept walking in with groups of friends so I couldn't go because I'd feel awkward and I'd have another panic attack because I don't deserve to go to these kinds of gatherings. And then I could have gone to that other event last night, and I didn't, so it's my fault that I'm wide awake and spiraling through depression on a Saturday morning. There's a party tonight and I know there will be alcohol involved but maybe that's what I want. No. I doubt it, but I want to not doubt it and I just want to go make a fool out of myself. I'll panic and leave and feel like I'm dying again except maybe I should die. I got rid of the rope but maybe I could bleed to death. I have a knife. I could jump out the window, though I doubt the building's tall enough to do more than injure me. Maybe I just need to get a license for a firearm. That one has a good success rate, when done right, I think.

"Things are looking up" so I started to re-design the website, ditch the content that I didn't want, archive the journal entries and hide them from public eye except I think that I want people to see them. It's attention. Is that what I want. I don't deserve it.

I had this whole journal entry that I was putting together about how I was actually going to change. Explaining my actions and promising that this time it was for real. What a lie. It will never be this time for real because I've had so many this time for reals that they will never count. I told myself that I'd change at college---this time for real---and I would make friends and socialize and participate in classes. I keep telling myself that I'll change at my next college, except I'm counting on that transfer too much aren't I. Haven't even been accepted. The only thing that will change is that I'll find new reasons to hate myself. Hey, at least that's something new to ramble on the internet about.
31 October 2022: Happy Halloween, I suppose. I ate a bit of candy and re-read The Forbidden by Clive Barker. It's what the Candyman movies are based on, though I haven't watched them. I like the short story. It has that distinct air of an urban legend, and it's terrifying in all the right ways. Not terrifying. Haunting. Perfectly atmospheric. I like a good atmosphere. I want to take that with me when I start on NaNoWriMo. Tomorrow. I'm pantsing it, which seems to be the best way for me to complete it. I can't believe that this will be my fifth year participating in it. I'd like to think I'll be able to complete it again, but I'll see how it goes. Maybe I'll have to count all of my writing for it for me to complete it---college essays, journal entries, and all. Whatever. I'll figure it out. It's the writing itself that counts. I haven't spent much time on creative writing recently, so I look forward to having an excuse for it.

I did visit a new building today. Just one of the on-campus things that I hadn't gone to yet - the student center, since they had free candy and I am very succeptible to offers of candy. Speaking of which, some perfume samples came today. I'm currently wearing one for "Stranger Danger" (by Mr. Hex). Crisp autumn air and a pocket full of candy. It reminds me of butterscotch candies. I like it enough that I may buy a full-size of it. Coincidentally enough it does remind me of The Forbidden. It isn't sickingly sweet, but it's sweet enough that it could be hiding something. Happy summer days (daze) with a dose of razor blades. Maybe in my head, but that's fine, because I like that it reminds me of something like that. I like the short story. It's satisfying. I have an array of other samples I'm looking forward to trying - I guess all of those will be noted here. Or maybe they'll have their own page of the website? It would be easier to reference, if it were like that. I'll think about it.

It's funny. I've been feeling miserable for the past few days, but as I write this, I'm back to that "maybe things aren't so bad." I can feel my mood getting better. It irritates me. But maybe that's just the Nano sentiment coming forth. Enough fond memories---and too many bad ones---but it will be fine. That's all. I keep falling behind and procrastinating on things in a way that I don't like. I've gotten things done, thankfully, and maybe my shift in mood will let me take care of everything else. Just need to write an essay on parallel lines and take care of some readings and knock out whatever else will be assigned tomorrow. Doable. Doable. Doable.

November

1 November 2022: All I wanted to do was cry today. I don't know why. I had a panic attack this morning and I'm so barely aware of my own existence that it should hurt, but it doesn't. I'm back to being an alien observer of my own body. I've written 5k (into nanowrimo) today and i should feel happy and victorious or at least satisfied but i don't, instead it feels like it isn't enough and doesn't matter and i don't know why i keep going on like this. i think one of my professors could see it --- asked how i was doing, again, again, again, and i replied that i was fine to him for the third time that day (isn't that a magic number) and he keeps offering that he can help with whatever he can, i see how kind he is to everybody else and how he wants everybody to do well and be fine and i don't know why anybody would ever bother asking me. all i can do is be depressed and cry i'm sitting in the science reading room and there are tears in my eyes but at least nobody's here to see me. i'm behind on work in one of those classes, i'll catch up tomorrow, get it all done in one fell swoop regardless of how well done it is i can slice it off my plate in time for more work to be assigned. why am i like this. having most of my work done should make me happy. i have what i want --- except i don't, the one person i want to talk to will never respond to that last email from two? three? three months ago, which is good but it still hurts. i want to hear from him. i don't want to hear from him. it isn't a lack of closure, maybe, i don't know what it is but i sure as hell wish it could get out of my system. i want to function. i want to be fine. i am not fine. i'm seeing a therapist, though, and i'm exercising and i get sunlight and water (like a plant) and i journal so i think i'm doing everything right. do i need to try meds again? i don't want to / can't handle that right now. mara said hi when i was having that panic attack, and i couldn't tell her that the professor wouldn't let me work with someone that he couldn't see, because that is not how working in groups works, they have to be real people that are in your class and she is / not real. she doesn't like it when i say that she isn't real. she isn't, though. i want her to please go away, but she'll never listen, she'll haunt me and go away in her own time. that's how it is.
3 November 2022: Is it strange that I don't like being happy? I feel upset because I feel happy. It's temporary and my brain is going to go back to being dumb. Well, it is being dumb. It'd rather meander over moods instead of respond to people's emails and get work done for one of my classes. I have the energy to, and maybe it's because I got some work done this morning that my brain thinks that i've done enough work. so now i'm back to being a confused emotion. this is a normal feeling and i wish i didn't have to deal with it. i got to talk about how i want to teach high school english and the idea of that being my future made me smile, but then the teachers my mom knows pointed out that i should really be prepared to teach math, but works but it isn't what i want. whhy does that matter. there's a shortage of teachers everywhere. so my choice is . . . something. lost a train of thought.
4 November 2022: I wish that I thought that people on the internet were real people. Even emails from people that I know are fake. Text messages from my family are fake. Phone calls and video calls and all that jazz aren't real. I wish I could just turn off my brain and be done with it. I'm seeing a therapist and I'm convinced that things are / not real. I'm so tired of my brain being like this. I don't even know what "like this" means. It's a thing that I can't pinpoint but I know is wrong. If I could just like being around people---well, that's not quite it. I know that I want to be around other people, but I also don't, and it's all just a ball of brain static. Brain smush. Fuck this.
7 November 2022: I'm some kind of confused melancholy. Tired, in a haze, and rambling on the internet and wondering why I can't just be happy. I should be happy. The shadow creature---the one i last saw in middle school---has apparently stopped by twice in the past week. coincidence? what's even going on with my brain. hard to understand what's happening when it feels like my brain just wants to trick me. i'd like it if i could see clearly. guess that one will never happen.
9 November 2022: I feel like my journal entries keep jumping between coherent and incoherent. (Lucid and less than?)

I've finished reading "On the Essence of Truth." While I am not prepared to type out a full rebuttal (and I'm sure others already have), I will say that I disagree with most of this essay. "What is Metaphysics?" was enlightening and has led me to ponder other valuable things. "On the Essence of Truth" was a thorough disappointment. My understanding of it is that he thinks that humans have built up systems to deviate from the truth, though their deviations can lead them back to the truth. I disagree. There is no truth in the manner that he speaks of; there is no one way.

Questions lead to questions, and we are no longer on speaking terms, Martin.
12 November 2022: Though late enough that it's actually the 13th. I know that there are people who love going to parties in college, but for me it just means a sleepless night. There's one near my dorm that's loud enough that I won't be able to consider sleeping until it's done, which means I'll be awake until a little after 2am. I thought I drank enough coffee today to keep awake and productive that late, but I forgot that there's only so many hours I can spend focusing on things and being awake until my brain becomes mush. So I'm alert, ish, but I'm not good for much of anything right now. Just for plotting what I'll do tomorrow, knocking out the last bits of an assignment and sending an email that I've already drafted. Can't feel confident with anything I've finished at this hour, or else I would try to take care of that assignment and email. Not incapable of paying attention, but my brain is slow, having been up for sixteen-or-so hours and working away for most of them. It's been a complicated week. Things happened that I know are ripe material for therapy, and they're no surprise, just distress. Maybe I'm afraid of mirrors and the dark. No, I'm afraid of what lies within them. Though Michael doesn't show up on a mirror, but he said that my reflection could still kill me. Michael's nice though. It's not as distressing as the rest of them. Maybe it can keep them at bay. It doesn't want me to mention it to the therapist, though, even though I think that I should, since it's the same kind of things as Mara and the shadow creature, though it isn't quite as distressing because it has an inherent nature that is and is not real, instead of the rest of them which are a bit more complex. I'd like to know what is and is not real but I don't think I can trust my brain anymore. Infinity sits on the same dividing line as I do, though, well as the others do, I'm their own bridge (hah). Bad puns, I know, though you wouldn't be familiar with them, and if you were I'd wonder how you knew who I was. Just a little while longer before I can go to bed. Just a little while longer until I can hike back to my dorm, crossing a pitch-black, unlit area that devours any flashlight my phone tries to provide. At least it's a short walk. I'm always worried that I'll get hurt, well that someone will hurt me, or that should be a something. Might be my own something. Bad brain concoctions (BBC?) and whatnot.

Nobody sits in the science/math building on a Saturday night, or even really Friday night through Sunday afternoon. Then they come in and stay up far too late to get their work done. Michael keeps telling me that he has a door for me. He's more fictional than the rest, and now there's someone else in the building. Phone call? Talking to themself? Not in English, so I can't understand. I hope that was the door closing. Wouldn't blame someone for coming through this building instead of crossing unlit paths, since it covers the same distance. What am I even saying. I just want solitude, but that will never happen here. My brain wouldn't allow that anyways. Sometimes I wonder if it conjures up these things to keep me company. All of it's a lie. I don't know what I'm saying. I'm sorry.