The thoughts that say that I deserve to...

Unwind me from my own strings, break me free from my bindings. Sometimes, it really is your own  self  that is  your worst  enemy. 

I don't consider my thoughts intrusive, I know people with severe intrusive thoughts. I mean. to a lot of people they wouldn;t like having my thoughts at all but I still don't think they're intrusive, because they're not unwanted nor do I feel distressed. I have intrusive thoughts but there's a clear line between what is or isn't intrusive to me. a thought about myself? intrusive. a thought about someone else? not intrusive. 

had to talk to my professors about my mental health for obvious reasons, har har har i'm apparently psychotic har har har i am a high risk patient har har har it's not normal to immediately think of [TRAGEDY] at the face of mere inconvenience. i had to go through a lot of things as a kid, been around counselors and trusted adults more than the average kid i guess, a kid's got a wild imagination but im not a elementary student anymore, and these thoughts still remain vivid in my head. I can't think of a day I didn't think about [TRAGEDY] except the days i completely "dissociated" from myself or like. the huge memory gaps that people then have to tell me what happened (or i read back chatlogs to piece together what happened)

i don't like this feeling, only because it makes me feel weak. har har har ableism or what ever but i feel like i can say that considering my panic attacks are very real and it happens in the worst moments, at least people were there to help me. I can't believe months ago I had a panic attack in the middle of work, but my manager let me take another break and drink water until I could feel "stable" again. I'm going to miss her a lot, I just quit my job and as of today I am unemployed. Gonna learn how to drive, I'm gonna learn how to drive and "man up" because i can't let [SPECIFIC MENTAL ILLNESS] control my life forever. Why don't I fight back.. this is pathetic, I can't believe I'm so weak. I can't believe my life is almost completely ruined because of [SPECIFIC MENTAL ILLNESS] and I have a hard time looking at other cars, or lights, or people, and I feel afraid all the time and I feel like everything is fake. I'm "sane" now but it's so weird seeing my older texts when I was worse off, I really believed all my friends were fake and not human, and that this was all a horrible dream to force me to comply. I don't even know why I have [SPECIFIC ILLNESS] or what triggers it because i had it before i got diagnosed, it only seemed more prominent after a car crash,

That sienna, I'll be driving one hopefully. It's the same sienna my grandpa drove, and the one my dad drives, a nice beauty she is. I treasure that car a lot, even if it was the "cause" for my mental derailment. Still got that little rearview mirror decoration my grandpa set up, we never took it out. My grandpa, he used to roll down the windows and smoke while driving, and I was in the backseat because he picked me up from elementary. He'd do that every day, to pick up his own son from highschool. That sienna 2011 was his for barely two years, i still can't grieve knowing it's been over 11 years now since he;s gone. I can get a newer, better car. A truck like I have always wanted, with working doors. But nothing beats that sienna, I don't like throwing away things that still hold value to me. It's worn and tarnished, living on hopes and prayers, but she'll run with me. Maybe I'll pick up smoking too when I'm older, destroy my lungs with the same filth with windows rolled down and I'd reel in the scent, reminded of the only few comforts I had when I was younger. It's pathetic, I think the smell of smoke is nostalgic and comforting. That's all I can remember of my grandpa, it's pathetic. I can barely remember his face, his eyes, his voice. I am a pathetic grand child who will never get to hear his grandpa ever again, how am I supposed to tell his cremated corpse of my acomplishments? He never got to see me graduate elementary, He never got to see me hold my highschool diploma, and he'll never see how much i rely on him to keep going. 

why is it that he had to die late enough for me to remember? my siblings recall nothing of his funeral, because they were younger than me. But I remember a lot of things, I remember that was the day I learned to snap, because my uncle, the same highschooler, taught me how to over his coffin. I remember a lot of people coming over to my house, because we lived far from family. I remember the day before he died, I was in the hospital, and they played gravity falls. that one episode, with a house party and clones. 

sometimes i feel like my acomplishments are for nothing, and that i will be nothing, because someone vital inmy life will never be there to witness it. are you watching from heaven? Do you see the tears that stained my paper, because it's difficult for me to grasp that you're really gone? It's been 11 years, and I still feel like a stupid child. 

It's so surreal, that urn has my grandpa's ashes. That was my grandpa, that was someone who would scold my parents for punishing me and then give me candy to cheer me up. That was a man who knew how to cook and provide, a chef who's dishes I will never taste again. That was a man who smiled and held me while I cried, next to a 2 liter bottle of soda, the only photo I have of my grandpa and I. That was a man who I watched bedridden in a hospital bed, unable to tell his family proper last words. I didn't even see him die, my dad drove me back home before he died. and i ate instant ramen after. how weak. 

It's pathetic how I am torn apart, one side of me finds myself pathetic for being weak and venerable over an urn, and one side who just wants to stay forever 6 years old because there wasn't hardship I had to face. He didn't even live enough to see me turn 7. Not even lunar new year. I want to blame him, but I can't. That's how life goes, he was ill, and his lungs were damaged. it wasn;t his fault he couldn;t say longer, but now i feel guilty and I start to believe it's somehow my fault. I wonder a lot if I could've prevented this, and maybe he would still be here. He wasn't old, he could've lived, maybe. But my cousin said it herself, he was sickly. 

i miss my grandpa a lot. this was supposed to be a little rant/essay about "bad" thoughts but then i remembered my grandpa and now i want to cry my eyes out, i'll cry and cry and then i'll forget like i always do, that's the only good part of [SPECIFIC ILLNESS], i get to have amnesia and memory loss