8-3-25, Saturday

I wake up with my back and neck muscles sore. Didn't know sleeping was such hard work.

I tuck my arms in under me, and, for the past couple days, curl my head in too in a way. I try to avoid it because im uncomfortable all day afterwards, and it doesn't help my posture. But somehow it keeps happening.

I promised Gir I will vacuum before she comes here. So I need to do that. But not now.

08:35

I told Gir my parents are using her to make me keep my room tidy to their liking. So we studied in the kitchen. Scary was not home. I liked that.

We played Doki Doki and Gir got to the start of the interesting part. I am sensitive. Like a wild dog I can feel the proximity of the ones around me. I feel large stress at small things, like this technically being public, though nobody who does matters. I feel like growling at the teachers who stand behind me. 

We dropped girish off at her house and went to the restaurant. I had a california roll, miso soup, and lots of green tea. It tasted a little like corn, and was powdered but not matcha. Really nice, in my opinion. I saw Camera Dude in there, it was nice too. And I have a coffee candy to give someone I like from the front desk.

I walked out of the restaurant, leaving my family, and walked around. I found them again, and followed them to a dessert bakery. They asked me what I wanted multiple times. I just stared, dumbfounded. 

Its as if they think I can choose to eat an actual dessert on a special occasion. As if this is some voluntary diet. Bitch I will lose all feeling in my hands if I have the damn cupcake.

So, calmly, I said we should go to trader joe's instead. I got a spicy beef stick and a bag of pistachios. I remember the time I made my mom get my pumpkin ice cream there, because my brother got something. If he has something on no special occasion, I have to have just as much - not because I genuinely believe it is reasonable or because I need it, but because I do not believe in being treated as less because of age or behavior. I will not allow them to do that. I dunno, a little personal game without much meaning.

While I was deciding between nuts or cheese, I kept bing called into the car. That's it, let's go. I told them I can walk. They said its ridiculous and kept calling. They were waiting. Watching, perhaps. The buzz of my phone in my pocket stresses me out badly. pressure, pressure, pressure, for what is meant to be a treat.

I believe in equity. And I believe that if I am pre-diabetic and need to pick a treat someplace else, I should not be shook and screamed at for trying to pick a type of nuts. Not that it was literally as violent, but with PTSD, it's all the same amount of stress hormones.

I wish they would quietly sit in their car and wait for me. I wish they wouldn't act like I owe them something, I owe them a rushed decision or an obedient "yes", walking back to the car with my hands empty. I wish I could make a good decision, and choose to go however I want,  those motherfuckers. They say it's safety, but my seatbelt is broken. Next time, I will not comply. Next time, I will run away and keep the change. They do not get my obedience, they will not win my fear.

They let me have a treat and I am mad at them. Woof.

I had DND for a little, but I left early. I need rest, not extra work. It's barely any fun, and I don't enjoy the people too much. I don't even like my character much. I don't want my parents hearing, either. I block the door in a way where no one can get in without breaking the wall. I am filled with treat and aggression. I will curl up on the soft grass and cry hard. Oxytocin, a hug from myself. It's raining and the cars will roll by behind the fence. They are loud, and you can see their headlights reflect on the wet grass, shine through the gaps in the fence. And I sob, sob hard, and the grass loves and lets me without judgement. 

Tomorrow I'm supposed to walk with Bob. But waking up is hard and my spine is loud, and that is my last weekend day this week. I hate to cancel on him last-minute, and, he may bring me something nice to eat, along with some good company. But if anything, we should have him at my house. I don't wish to get ready for anything. We should meet up for just a couple hours and then he can leave. I love him, platonically of course, but I need to have time I do not owe him. 

There is a feeling, it runs from the top center of my head, down the spine, to the tailbone. It fills with energy when I am uncomfortable. It becomes uncomfortable physically.

It's especially active on caffeine. It's the opposite of a lullaby, it's a scream and a threat to hurt someone. It loves me violently and I hate it gently. A play of odd forces, circling each other, fighting in a calculated dance, intensity in both their eyes.

20:58.

I think I am a machine.

I do not feel like a person. I do not analyze like a person.

I am at my best level of function, and the price itself is a reward.

This works for me, yes, this works for me best.

21:56