7-4-25, Monday

02:04

I feel small, still. I whimper at the absence of my friends. Not because I genuinely miss them - I miss the attention and interaction. The fun. The depth. 

I should feel good alone, in the dark. But im stressed still. If I make a noise, I'll get violent yelling my way. The coffee makes me anxious, I think.

I feel a sort of flowing weight to me now. I feel the way I did in the past. With Legend. With Sunny. Processing. Magical. Miserable in a beautiful way. Deeply upset, in the midst of deep peace. Tranquility, if you will. Are my muscles still tense? yeah.

Are my thoughts cleared? No. Am I distracting myself? sure. But I am at peace, in a way. Im okay with this. Tomorrow will give me better opportunities.

230 days left, no?

18:02

I went to the neurofeedback therapy place. My dad drove me for nearly an hour. A lady I have never seen before sat me in a chair and told me to put on the headband - no one discussed with me what I wanted, what I needed. We didn't even come to a conclusion of what these brainwaves are. 

I have an extremely large amount of high beta and beta brainwaves all over. They said it looks like anxiety. I told them it can't be, I'm not anxious - they said okay - and that was that. We never even talked about what it is.

I don't know what this treatment is. I don't know what they'll be trying to condition me to do. I don't know the function of what we're getting rid of.

The world sees all difference as some sort of disorder, but if it was a disorder, natural selection would've taken care of it. My PTSD is an adaptation, a tool. I choose to use it so. I do not wish to go down the traditional route of getting rid of it or something. I have it for a reason.

I don't know what they're getting rid of, they don't know what they're getting rid of. Just by critical thinking, it does not make sense. Nobody even asked what I wanted out of this. Nobody wanted to hear a single goal from me. They just decided that my brainwaves are wrong and they need to fix them.

I walked out, wished them a good day. My father got extremely pissed. He told me to control my emotions, that I'm going into a stupor, that I must be on drugs. He was out of control with it. He told me to do it for him.

Obviously, it'd directly against my own philosophy, my nature, my instinct to do so. I decline. He is hysterically angry. He raps anger at me, diminishing everything I say in return. I don't engage anymore. I don't feel good around these people. 

I tried speaking to my father, but I don't think he's doing okay in the head. Maybe something with his hormones.

He says they are professionals, they are experts. They have to know what it is. If my brainwaves say anxiety, then they must be right. I find it strange that he believes them over me. I am the one actually experiencing things.

In fact, he told me that my resistance is anxiety. "You are anxious - I see it here". I think he mistranslated something in his head. Dont think he knows what anxiety is - or he's just not thinking clearly.

This situation is very personal for him. He sees very rigidly. He wants me to get better on his terms, be more understandable, be a "human". I can't be upset at him, but I have to cut him out of my life. That is not an influence, a reaction, a treatment that I find acceptable.

Philosophy-wise, I can't even claim to see truth. I can only claim I have evidence against what I am told. But they have their own evidence too, even if I don't find it to be enough. They have their own claim. I am just as smart as everyone else. Convenience of lies is smart too, if that's what you value. Why make your life so much harder? I can see very clearly how one could think I'm stupid for resisting. In a way, I am. What good is truth? We evolved to seek comfort and survival, not truth. Truth is danger, and I'm walking right into it. I value it, so I find it worth it. But objectively speaking, I'm pretty much just creating problems for myself, even if it makes me happy. 

If I am insane, so was everyone else that questioned anything in life. I find a lot of agreement with greek philosophers. If I am insane, they were too. And I'm not saying we aren't - only that "insanity" became a sort of ableist term. If I am insane, then I am proud of it. Hey world, I'm absolutely nuts!