1/1/25

bad night. 

sometimes I wonder if I spent the first chunk of my life feeling too many things to feel things now. when I try to make myself feel things it just doesn't happen. I try to force myself to like people. I'm used to doing things I'm not comfortable with. my second home. I catch myself pointing out everything wrong with them. I hate people who mess up. I hate people who make mistakes. I hate people who are late. I hate people who cancel.i hate people who sugar coat.i feel like because I've had to put up with EVERYTHING in the past I now tolerate NOTHING. everything everyone does feels like a betrayal. everything everyone says sounds like they lack intelligence & r trying their hardest to offend me. my only conversations with the men I attempt to revisit are arguments or me trying to flash my intelligence because I love my brain and them reacting beyonddddd insecurely. all of this stupid because what????? my stupid therapist said its valid but not HEALTHY to hate men?????? hating men is not healing????? can't I say the same about literally forcing myself to pretend I'm into all of this. wanting to be married and pregnant by it feels like a 2nd job. I catch myself biting my tongue at things I CANT stand because maybe I wont be alone anymore???? at least I understand me. being alone means I can scream and cry and kick all I want. I can cry

and scream 

and kick 

all. I. want. 

I am so so so very undeniably alone

if hello just means goodbye than honeyyyy betterrrr walk awayyyy

that's a Lana song.

its funny how these things work. when alone was new to me recently it felt like a new city. now I'm remembering this feeling. Ive spent most of my life alone. friendless. menless. alot of girls will say I'm fun. alot of men will say I could have any guy I want. none of them could tell much else about me. suddenly Im 15 in my purple bedroom again. I love it here. I love my bed. I miss my headboard. I don't wanna get another one until I find that exact one again. I know it well here. they're nice to me here. the voices. most of my teenage years my room was blue. a week after I broke up with my longer term abusive relationship, I was more alone than ever. he scared all of my friends away. my grandmother let cry and screamv and blast Lana and paint my room purple. I begged for the purple before the blue she chose. I think she knew I needed it. I could really use a white wall rn.