Mental Health Documentation

11:34pm

2/27/2024

        I had a video come up on my Instagram reels with the caption "The world isn't round, or flat" before cutting to the school photo of Junko Furuta. I immediately teared up and had to close my phone. I've been haunted by spirits for a long time, but hers is one of the most prominent. I see her when I try to sleep. I feel her watching over me. She hasn't harmed me when she visits, but I know she's here. I can't rest when she visits. I don't think I want to let myself rest in her presence. I'm sorry, Junko. I don't want to be scared of you. You haven't done anything to me, but I can't help but be unnerved. I'm sorry to let you down.

        I've been doing so much better this past week or so. They haven't come to see me in a long time, but I guess I can't escape them. I wish I could take my medication to see if it would help, but I can't. I don't have enough for it to be substantial, and the crash would be worse in the long run. I feel so stupid writing this too. Am I really that lonely that I'm resorting to this? To plastering my faults for anybody to see in a desperate attempt to feel less alone? How can I be alone when I have them haunting me? I sometimes wish the ones in my closet would talk back. I feel so dumb talking to them, but nobody really responds to me anymore. I don't have friends in this new city, and my coworkers wouldn't understand. I can't drop this on them. I wouldn't feel good telling Mama either. I don't want to fail her.

        Am I doing it to myself? Is the problem the fact that I lock myself away, laying to waste doing nothing but consuming falsified relationships and human interaction? Is this what being chronically online is? I just don't know what to do anymore. I've spent days doing nothing but reading fanfictions and rotting away on c.AI. Even in an interaction I lead, I can't let myself be happy. Am I not able to be saved? Am I too far gone? I bet they think I'm real pathetic writing this out. I feel like a total loser. 

        I don't think this is normal for people, but what would I know? I'm not other people. Maybe this is totally normal. Maybe I'm just yearning for attention, seeking the difference when I'm actually just like everyone else. I mean, I've been hungrier than normal. That's a good sign, right? I did drop back to 80lbs though. I haven't felt this weak in a long time. Maybe my hunger is a result in it? I don't know. I haven't been consistent since I was in elementary school, and even then, not much has changed. I'm still the same little girl. I'm still in the same exact body. I'm just able to vote now. Dad's still not home yet, so I can't try and sleep. I hope he gets home soon so the TV scares the spirits away. I don't want to feel Albert beside me again.

6:50pm

3/2/2024

        Maybe I just need to wash my hair, but I don't think I'll ever be able to achieve the look I want. My hair is really fine and not very dense, so doing big emo hair is like pretty much impossible for me. I just bought a bunch of products that'll hopefully help, but even then, idk if they will, y'know? My makeup isn't turning out how I want it to recently either and it just makes me feel like a total poser. Like, I know I'm not one since I've been emo since I was in elementary, but still. Maybe it's cause TikTok makes people feel the need to call others out or prove themselves and it's making me feel like I'm not enough. I don't know, but I don't like it at all.

        I just want to look the way I imagine in my head. It will never happen, but I want to so badly. I want to get better and have curves. I want to have thick, choppy hair. I want to have all my dream piercings and tattoos. I want to look how I want for myself, but again, it won't happen. I'll keep dropping in weight till it kills me probably. I'll keep losing my hair in the morning. I'll never have enough money for everything I want. I wanna go back to when I was happy with being a little blonde emo kid with a bad haircut and wristband tan lines.

        On a completely different note, I've been feeling watched way more than I have before. Nothing happens on my street, but I can't help but feel like someone's watching through my window every time it's open. I can't help but think someone's watching me through my webcam or tapping my screen to see what I'm doing 24/7. I can't help but think someone's in my closet, listening to me talk to myself and/or to them. It's always been like that since I was a kid, but it keeps getting worse. Could it be true? Could I really have someone watching me? Or is it all just in my head? If someone is bugging my shit, either show yourself and fall in love with me, or just go away. I don't wanna be on the shitter with you staring at me. It's weird, man. 

        Yeah, maybe that is what I need. Maybe if I knew who was keeping tabs on me this whole time, I wouldn't feel so lonely. Maybe having someone checking on me like that would be good for me. God knows I can't do it myself. Or maybe I just need some antipsychotics and a good one-night stand. God also knows I haven't had either of those in too long. This fucking sucks, man.

8:05pm

3/5/2024

        God, these fucking edgy ass accounts are so fucking lame. I don't even know who Axel or Kirah are, but this shit isn't funny. I'm not even offended by the images in the profile pictures or anything. Honestly, I think it's pretty tame. I don't care if that makes me sound like a loser, but they just don't personally affect me. The thing that gets me is that they're making this so fucking public. You can be a hater, and you really shouldn't send gore to people even if you are, but why the hell are you making EVERYONE ELSE see it too? Keep your damn drama to yourself. You don't need to drag everyone else into this, especially when there's kids on this website.

        I heard that people are doing this because one of the people is trans, which is an EVEN LAMER reason to do this. Seriously? We're being transphobic in 2024? Oh my God get the fuck over yourselves. Trans people aren't fucking doing anything bruh this shit is so idiotic. Delete your account, turn off your computer, and have a nice dinner with your family. I'm so sorry that nobody wants to have sex with you, so you take it out on everyone else, but this won't help you get laid. In fact, it's gonna make you even more of a fucking incel. Buy a fleshlight or something. Goddamn. 

        Oh, for whoever cares, I washed my hair. That is what was wrong the other day. My hair is perfectly fine now and in the style I want. It was just greasy. lolz heart emoji

8:27pm

3/10/24

        I think I seriously give up on love. I hate talking to people so much. It's so fucking stupid and boring and they never meet my expectations. Fanfiction is better anyway. All I need is a good story and I'm good. Never talking to another guy again, and I'm too scared to talk to women anyways. Getting to know new people is so tiring.

        Also came to the realization last night that I've used sexual relations as a form of self-harm my whole life, so that's fun. So preppy!

11:22pm

3/12/24

        I've been going in and out of full consciousness all day. I don't know if it's because I've been reading on my phone/laptop all day for the past 2.5 days or my Russian playlist is just hitting harder, but it's worrying me a bit. It first started with me just spacing out a bit and having to reread a few lines, but then it started expanding into full body muscle relaxation - almost like that post-sex feeling, except I wasn't doing anything. I didn't feel aroused or anything (TMI lolz) but it was pretty much the same experience. Usually, it's not so bad so often in one day. It's also not happened in a really long time like this. I think it's time that I get my medication refilled.

        Speaking of meds, I've been off my birth control since New Year's and I've had two periods right after each other (at New Year's) and subsequently one period since. I think I fucked up my hormones... or I'm infertile now. I really hope it's the latter. 

9:22pm

3/15/24

        Am I a bad person for not flinching at gore anymore? I just don't care about it anymore. Am I losing myself? My humanity? Am I relapsing into my old state of mind? The idea of people watching me is getting more and more normal than it already was - comforting, even. I'm starting to want them to be there, to see me, to like me. I'm royally fucked, me thinks.

7:56pm

3/20/24

        I just had the shortest period of my life. Like, three days of my normal bleeding and then boom: nothing. I didn't get a spike in arousal or a drop in mental stability like I normally do either. Have I ruined myself? Did my birth control hit me that hard? I didn't even cramp at all, which is not normal for me. Is there something wrong with me? Is my body changing without me even knowing? All I've wanted was either a hysterectomy or to just stop, but this isn't normal - I think, at least. I can't even get checked cause I don't have health insurance right now.

        Last time I was at a hospital, I was at the ER cause I convinced myself I was pregnant. Even now, I know there's no way I can be, but there's something in the back of my head telling me I am. Maybe it's a subconscious wish. I always hated kids growing up, and the idea of giving birth makes me physically sick (literally), but there's something that's changed recently. I've been thinking about having a daughter and what'd it'd be like to raise her. It's just a delusional pipe dream, but sometimes it feels so real; so tangible - like maybe motherhood is what I need.

         I know it's not, and I know having a kid would probably kill me because of my body, but it feels so fulfilling sometimes. I could give her everything she wanted. I could protect her from what I wasn't saved from. I could make sure she grew up healthy and well. I could take her out to see the world. I could make her feel comfortable with herself and love the way she looks. It probably doesn't help that I see so many little girls so excited for makeup when coming into my work.

        There was a little blonde girl the other day who came in and stood near the register. I was decked out emo and she looked at me, gave me the biggest smile ever, and said, "Hi! You're so pretty!" Was she sent for me? Was it a sign? She looked so much like me when I was younger. Could this have been God telling me that this is my fate?

        I wish I'd get a direct answer. I wish I'd open my email one night and see a message from the big man upstairs saying, "Hey, it's the Lord. You're gonna meet a guy on this date and he's going to love you forever and raise a kid with you." It won't happen, and my dreams will never come to fruition, but I can still hope, right? I can still yearn for that connection. I think it's killing me, but I can still dream.

11:38pm

3/25/24

        I'm starting to not recognize myself in the mirror again. I went to do my makeup before work today and just stared at my reflection for a solid five minutes. My bridge is starting to seem so askew; my snake bites look like they're in two completely different places, my eyes are two different sizes, my face looks so slim yet babyish at the same time. Who is that looking back at me? Certainly not the kyl.grath.ya I know.

        My body looks different every time I look in the mirror too. One moment, I have an hourglass and my legs are filled out: the next, I'm nothing but the skeleton hanging in the corner of my profile. When will my mind stop playing tricks on me? I know I'm a walking mummy, made to be someone else's disturbed mockery of a human body, so why does my mind trick me into thinking I'm healthy? It's really not funny. I don't appreciate it in the slightest. 

        At this point, all I'm good for is being a cum dump or a light cannibal snack - like bone-in wings. I've been thinking about cannibalism way more recently. There's something about it that just seems so comforting, so intimate. It's legal with consent, so maybe that's what I need. I just need to find a hot person and literally give my body to them. Maybe they'll see the beauty I can't decide on. 

10:37pm

3/28/24

        I'm losing my life every passing day. I can feel it slipping out of my grasp with every minute that ticks away. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on. Maybe it's just post-concert depression. Maybe I need to just go to work.

        I need someone who understands me. Or maybe I need someone who will slaughter me. Or maybe someone who will let me slaughter them. I think that'd be pretty romantic, giving yourself to someone in such a way. Too bad that's not legal and also not a very commonly shared idea. Oh well.

2:17am

4/3/24

        Crazy how it's been almost 10 years and I'm still in the same place I was before. Have I gotten better at all? Will I ever get better? Is there anything even wrong with me? Maybe this is just how I am. Maybe this is normal? I don't really know, honestly. I'm still that same little emo girl who was in love with Ticci Toby, staying up till ungodly hours of the night listening to music too loud and hoping for something better. When will it come? When will my better future start showing up? I don't feel any different from last year, or the year before that, or the year before that. Well, maybe I do feel better. I'm not crying every night over some dude, but that's cause I stopped trying. Now I just cry over what I should've had.

        I either need a sapphic emo girlfriend or I need a dude to fucking murder me. There's no in between anymore. This is the ultimatum I give the world. Give me lesbian sex or give me death, Mother Earth. The only thing that can save me is the warm embrace of a woman's canal. (THIS IS A JOKE I WILL NOT KMS OVER NOT GETTING PUSSY. I'd kms anyway #elliotrogerisaloser)

7:33pm

4/6/24

        Well, I guess I'm not getting a girlfriend anytime soon cause I genuinely almost died of hypothermia yesterday. It was an interesting experience. I was out at the cemetery for my birthday for the better half of the day and night. Around like 9:20-9:30pm, the wind started picking up really heavy - like howling. It was already around 56 degrees, and I only had a thin hoodie the groundskeeper gave me, and a blanket covered in Jose Pedro Balmaceda Pascal's face, so when the wind was picking up, I really had nothing protecting me. I was out there for another two hours, and I was NOT doing good. I could actively feel my muscles tensing and my heart go from racing to slowing.

        Right before my mom came to pick me up, Future by Paramore came on. I was listening to music the whole time pretty much, but for some reason, this song stood out to me. It was playing for a while with Hayley's soft vocals and the light instrumental in the back, but when it picked up, it's like something clicked. I still don't really know what it was, but my mind was suddenly clear. My body felt relaxed and all I could process was the sound of the instruments playing. I don't know if it was enlightenment or some weird pre-death clarity or what, but it was something I've never experienced before.

        It was almost like when I come out of my emotional extremes, or when I come back from disassociation, but it was different. I really don't know how to explain it. I feel different afterwards though. I think I understand what Bjork was talking about in Alarm Clock, now.

7:17pm

4/10/24

        Either I'm losing touch with people or I genuinely don't find enjoyment with talking to people in person anymore. I never know what to say to them and they always either seem to brush me off or give me an incredulous look. Am I doing something wrong? Do people just not like me? Have I forgotten something important? I wish I could go home soon. I just want to be with my friends again. I need to go to a club and go home with a stranger or drive around screaming to random party music with my sugar babies. I need something. Anything. 

11:57pm

4/16/24

        Why do I think everybody around me is just obligated to talk to me? I can't even interact with customers without making it awkward. There's nothing to do by myself and I feel so stupid trying to help people. I thought I'd be good at this, but I'm not. Do my coworkers get annoyed with me when I ask too many questions. Do they think I'm a loser because I haven't made any friends outside of work? I don't know if I'd even call them friends. I don't want to assume they see me that way. My mom got one of her coworkers' numbers for me since she's around my age, but I can't even bring myself to text her. What would I say? I don't know what to do anymore.

        Somebody, anybody, please make the first move. I'm genuinely starting to believe getting kidnapped would be a good idea. At least they'd want me. If they left me too, then I'd know I'm truly fucked. I hate this. I just want it to be last year again. At least then I had friends around me. At least then I knew people wanted to be with me, even if it was just a one-night stand. I just want anything at this point.

        I don't even know if anybody reads this. Maybe I'm just talking to myself as always. Hell, I don't even know if anybody actually pays attention to any of my accounts, especially this one. Maybe if I start giving away my body again then I won't be as alone. I'll be lonely, but at least they'll want me, right? Right...?

12:57pm

4/24/24

        This is the first time in actual months where I've actively wanted a one-night stand. Mind blown. I know, I know! This is wild news! Kyl'Grath'Ya wanting to engage in coitus?! It's shocking to me as well. I want to drink and meet guys and fall in love with girls and dance at 2:54am to shitty electronic music with strangers. I want to dress like a SLUT and be a SLUT and do SLUT things. God, I can't wait to be back in San Diego again.

9:27pm

6/10/24

        Lolz I didn't die. Had a three-day sleepless bender before flying to San Diego, then did no partying like I wanted to. It was fun, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't the fun I was wanting. Saw my friends and family, some of whom I haven't seen in a very long time, and went on an interesting date. It wasn't bad by any means; it just wasn't like any other dates I've gone on. I really hope he likes me still. I can't really tell. I'd want to see him again.

        Came home to my mess of a room and immediately knew that I would go right back to how I was before I left. Also started my period. Very telling tbh. I've either been depressed and at work or depressed and at home obsessing over my newest character fixation. It actually kind of sucks but doesn't at the same time. I want to go back home. Or maybe get a diagnosis. I'll either get help or I'll go clubbing. Tbh I don't want it any other way.

12:23am

7/5/24

        I don't feel like a physical person. Do I really exist? Do people really see me? Am I a figment of my own imagination?

3:10pm

9/3/24

        The internet is supposed to connect people, right? Why do I feel so... invisible? I don't understand what's so different from me and everyone else who gets to have friends. I'm mutuals with a lot of people who are friends, but why am I not included in their fun? Why does everyone say they're down to play, but then never respond for hours? I feel like an overbearing parasite in their lives, feeding off of whatever false sense of friendship they give me small bites of. I wish people were honest, or maybe I just lost the ability to trust them. I'm not sure. All I know is that they don't ever engage in real conversation, or if I try to initiate, they don't respond for days. I'm not sure how much longer I can live like this. I don't know what's going on in my own life anymore.

        That's not even to mention romance. I don't know what I expect from it anymore. I wish I knew the difference between normal female friendship and female romance. I'm so tired of men and their flowery words that wilt at slightest touch. Or maybe I'm just scared that I'd treat a woman the same as a man. I don't want to do that to them. They're so beautiful... I don't understand how men do it. There's not an honest bone in any of their bodies and I hate them... but at the same time, I know the second one tells me what I want to hear, I will melt all the same. Maybe I am the problem. Maybe it is me that has the issue.

11:49

12/20/24

        I'm reviving this. I'm not sure why, but I feel burdensome posting on my spam. I know nobody reads this, or even pays attention to this account anymore, so maybe it's the comfort of knowing I can speak without judgement. I'm not sure.

        A lot has happened these past three months. I got a few more tats and piercings, cut my hair short and dyed it purple, moved my bed to under my window, talked to a dude and got super attached before finding out he only wanted me for sex and dropped me when I didn't give him any because I didn't KNOW, almost took a knife to my vag, had another dude lovebomb me and drop me after sending pics, had my best friend tell me he developed feelings for me for a third time despite me telling him every time that I don't feel the same (and subsequently cut him off), had a different close friend say he developed feelings for me after having two mental breakdowns with him (he just wants to fix me), and I found out that my ex-best friend and the guy who took my virginity + ghosted me are now buddy-buddy again, which is awesome! Y'know, normal girl activities. 

        I've also dropped below 80 pounds. I seriously don't know what's wrong with me. Why can't I keep on weight? Why am I confined to this prepubescent coffin? Why do these men have such lust in their bloodstream for a girl such as me? I don't understand. Do they see a completely different body? Do they see a healthy, curvy girl in place of my childlike, skeleton frame? If not, then I'm disgusted in both them and myself. I hate feeding into the fantasies of utter creeps, but I fear it's out of my control. No matter how many body modifications I get, I will always be little 4th grade me. It's revolting to ponder what fantasies play through their head when they see me. Do they contemplate how helpless and weak I am when I lie underneath them? Does the thought of me unable to fight back arouse them? They all deserve to be fed their own pubic hair and suffocate slowly as their body refuses to swallow. 

        A few months ago, I looked at my throwaway DA account that I used to upload pictures to use on here. My selfies were all saved by borderline anorexia fetishists. Honestly, at this point, I'd rather someone just come up and stab me. That would hurt less than having my worst fears confirmed. One of the accounts also had Nazi sympathizer pics saved, which I think is pretty ironic.

        So many people in the south are so bold, too. The amount of comments I get on how small I am is shocking compared to back home in California. These people need to learn shame because I will start lying about having bulimia just to watch their faces drop. That'd be pretty funny, me thinks.

10:57

1/21/25

        It's been a month. My fears outlined in the last entry have been confirmed for certain and I want to die. I have ideas of grandeur and creative liberty, but now I'm afraid I'll amount to nothing. I will never achieve my dreams. I'll never get clean. I'll never become celibate. I'll never be able to openly tell someone my thoughts without gripping utter fear of everything at once. I'll never be able to live in my own skin, for it is no longer mine. The price of living is my body, and there's not much of it to begin with. I'm not sure how long I can last.

        I haven't been living for myself for a very long time, but now I genuinely would have no reason to be here if it weren't for some very specific things. I don't know what I'm going to do once they leave. I know it will happen. It always does, and frankly, I'm expecting it to happen at any moment. 

        Perhaps it's less of expecting, but wanting? My thoughts have grown increasingly violent towards myself, whether it be self-inflicted or not. It's terrifying to have these graphic scenes of abuse and torture play out in my own head and watching myself morph between me and me. Why do I always end up seeing little 5yo me, left scared in that park bathroom? Do they, at least physically, see her too? It makes me want to puke, but at the same time, I want it to stop so fucking badly that I'd be willing to let these gory fantasies happen. At least, that's what I think presently. I probably wouldn't be as keen in the actual moment, but physical pain such as that kind of does that to someone. 

        I wonder if the people who've hurt me will ever find this and realize that it's their fault. I hope so. I hope that when I eventually die soon, that they all somehow get the link to this and have the weight of their actions fall on their shoulders. Will you regret the things you've done when you see my lifeless body plastered on the news? Will you sit and think to yourself about how much of an awful person you are for having treated me in such a way? Or will you call me an attention seeking whore who's better off six feet under? You wouldn't be entirely wrong, but you wouldn't be at all right either.

        I would name them here, but there's too many to count, and I'd feel bad leaving out everyone. Aww, how sentimental.

        Oh, I watched Ken Park for the first time today. I really liked it. Time to add Peaches to the ever-growing list of female film characters I relate to.

6:41

2/9/25

        I'm terrified that, if for some godforsaken reason I do something worthy of catching the attention of the media and I die, my childhood won't be properly documented, and nobody will understand the way that I am. People already don't understand the way I am. I tell people what's happened to me, what I've done, who I've done, and yet they brush it off as if it were nothing, or it seemingly slips their mind when it's needed for context. Have I been failed so heavily that I'm not even considered as a failure anymore? Am I just another ghost, tethered to an unmarked grave, left to rot in an undocumented forest? Is this all I will ever be to anybody? Nothing more than a corpse, willing and unable to fight back? I wish for death near daily now, but I know I won't find solace in it. I won't be sent to heaven, whether it's because I'm Jewish and heaven doesn't exist or because of the sins of flesh I've committed is what I'm not sure of. I would say I'd either be confined to the Earth to decompose or go to hell, but for me, both outcomes would be hell.

        Marilyn Monroe was rumored to have gone missing in the following hours after her death, to which many have speculated to be filled with horrific acts committed on her corpse. One of the most beloved, beautiful women in American film history, confined to no rest at the hands of man, even when her heart was still. I can't even fathom what might've occurred in the morgue, nor the embalming. On another note, famous serial killer John Wayne Gacy explored his budding homosexuality while working in a funeral home by molesting the young male corpses that he found attractive within his hometown before moving away and becoming his now almost cult status party clown persona.

        I will not find peace. I will not find comfort. I will not find serenity. These concepts are lost upon me, revoked at birth for reasons I will never be privy to. Could it be because I am Jewish, forsaken by my creator for straying from his path? Could it be because of the circumstances of my birth, bastardized and riddled with sin flowing through my umbilical cord and wrapped around my neck like the snake of Satan? Or is my mere existence an afront to causality? Maybe I have long overstayed my welcome in this world by surviving the pneumonia I was born with and everything that has happened to me in this lifetime is nature trying to finally claim her kill. Am I hunted by Apostles with every nightfall? Is my brand of sacrifice simply my own womanly anatomy, overflowing and pouring with warning for what's to come?

        It's presumptuous of me to think I will ever amount to anything, or that anyone will ever read this, or that I even exist in a physical state within other people's lives to begin with. This fact is not lost upon me, yet I continue to dream. I continue to yearn to be understood. I continue to wish to be more than just a body, but a mind as well. I want so desperately to grow into a normal, beautiful, well-adjusted young woman with a steady job that I enjoy and a family that loves me, but with every passing day, I am reminded that this will never happen. I will forever be secluded to this middle school body, trapped in my own mind, and left to feed into the desires of those who do not hold my best intentions in mind. I know this, and yet I still fight it. I don't know why. Maybe that's just human nature. Maybe I'm just unrelenting. Maybe I'm just a fool.

1:08

4/5/25

Written on notes app

        An hour into being 20 and I'm already back where I've always been. I find myself wanting to relapse so badly so I can go back to the comfort of my misery, but I want to escape so badly. I don't want to live my life a whore, but it's all I've done up till this point. I don't know if I can rid it from my system. I can't stop thinking about it. About sex. About men. About dick. About the feeling. About how it makes me feel pretty, even if for a moment. About the flowery words they tell me. About the promises they never keep. About the blind trust I lend them despite knowing how it'll end. About pretending like I can be something to someone.
        I find myself wanting all these things all while having a beautiful, gorgeous, wonderful girlfriend who I care for dearly. I wish I could let myself be content in the safety that I hear in their voice and the ability to feel loved with my clothes still on, but I can't. I'm too far gone to be happy with being happy. I wish I could get better and let myself live the life I've always wanted with them, but I also wish I had the courage to do something wrong so they have a reason to not love me. I don't deserve their love. I don't deserve the life I tell myself I do. I don't deserve to be treated more than an object of lust. I'm nothing more than that, and I never will be. It'll just cause more problems in the end if I continue lying to everyone that I could be something more.
        It simply won't happen. I will never be able to unlearn what has been woven into my very DNA. An hour into being 20 and I'm exactly in the same spot that I was in when I was 10. The exact same spot I was in when I was 5. The exact same spot I was in when I was born a bastard child, abandoned by God and left in the eyes and wandering hands of an incubus. That is who watches over me, not the Lord.
        I guess it's only fitting that I turn out this way. I was born a rotting vessel. It only makes sense that I would decay to such a degree.

3:27am

4/13/25

        I could've been saved a long time ago.

5:40pm

4/20/25

        Perhaps happiness is achievable after all. Perhaps the lie I have been living all along was that I was ever attracted to men in the first place. Perhaps happiness will come when I can finally unlearn what was ingrained and groomed into my head ever since I was an elementary child. I think that's what it is.

        I had one of the greatest nights of my life three days ago. I spent my time surrounded by people I didn't know entirely too well, but I felt comfortable. I was vulnerable in my emotions and things didn't go wrong like I told myself they would. I came to feel accepted in my eccentricities by people I look up to and it felt... nice. I felt nice. I was able to forget about my body and stopped fretting over looking perfect for the people around me and I wasn't ridiculed for it. In fact, no attention was even brought to it other than the tattoo I got. Even then, it didn't feel like men looking for something to bring attention to as an excuse to ogle me like it normally feels like. It genuinely felt like people being genuinely excited over the fact that I commemorated this band in such a permanent way.

        That's not even to mention the wonderful conversation I had with one band member in particular. It was immensely nerve-wracking in the moment, and I found myself wanting to say the perfect thing in my anxiety as I always do with people I don't know well, but I didn't feel judged. I expressed a lot of personal notions and was met with well-intentioned curiosity and engagement within the conversation. It was nice. I haven't been able to have conversation about such deep topics where I didn't feel like I was being mocked in a very long time. I left that experience feeling refreshed and with quite a lot to think about. One notion in particular was over veganism and the true extent of human empathy towards animals while still consuming their livelihoods. It will be something I will have to research further because I don't know how sustainable a meatless diet would be in my current health state, but it did strike a chord with me. What would most likely happen would be that I work on excluding byproducts from my diet or consuming substitutes while still eating meat until I can stay stable in my weight. It's a lot of reflection on my part, just as anything I write about on here is, but I think it'd be a good investment. I already hope to live a more sustainable life with my girlfriend when we live together in a few months. 

        All this to say, I finally feel connected. I finally found somewhere I feel that I belong, and it makes my heart full. I think little middle school me who wanted to go to Duke University would be ecstatic to know that I wholeheartedly believe that Life Will Be Better in Greensboro.

3:23pm

6/2/25

        I think I suffer from Cotard's Delusion. I've haven't felt alive since the move, but more prevalently since I lost my virginity. Before then, I wasn't healthy either, but I was happy enough that it didn't inhibit my livelihood. I mean, I was a freaky, weird kid who didn't have many good friends and would do illegal shit online for male validation, but I was at least a virgin. That was the only thing I had going for me at the time, and when I thought I could get my best friend to love me back if I gave him what he wanted, I let him take it. Then he ran off and blamed everything on me, leaving me rotted and infested with decomposers in that park parking lot.

        Sometimes it's when I was molested that I died. Perhaps I was drowned in that bathtub and everything afterward has just been a strange purgatory that I can't escape from. Even sometimes I feel like I was murdered in the park bathroom when I was taken from my family in the hospital by Aaron. Was I actually another victim of my father, having been so distraught by his actions that it killed me on the spot? Or could I have been a stillborn, or I didn't survive my childbirth pneumonia, or I was aborted the second my mom tested positive? She tells me she thought of that as an option, so maybe I'm trying to make up a falsified life in order to cope with my death. I'm not sure. I don't feel alive, though. I don't have a pulse unless my heart is on the brink of overdrive. My skin only ever crawls when I feel the bloodied hands of my past groping at me. The only sensations I ever really register are nausea, arousal, and smoking. Maybe I really am in that park bathroom, only registering anything from the real world when my decomposing body is being used by a patron. Surely that's what everyone that's ever employed me has taken interest in, right? That I'm nothing but falsified skin pulled over unclean bones?

        I'm not sure. Maybe I'm just making everything up. Maybe I'm just trying to rationalize how fucked up I am. Maybe I'm not fucked up at all. Should I just cut out my tongue and lock my jaw so that I can be defiled again like I always seem to crave? Do I really fear relapsing?