My Abyss is Cringe

Surprise, surprise. Last blog post was inspired by another depressive episode. I think back then I was disappointed that my psychiatrist didn’t change my medication to prevent the incoming mood change. It was fine, I got through it. As much as I was joking about the meaninglessness of life and my old-man-esque bitterness, I was pretty much fine. I just dealt with a couple weeks of chronic fatigue. Mood was mostly good, since I knew it would come to an end, but I couldn’t stay up for more than a few hours at a time.

kady preryr

I feel really great now. I was listening to a podcast episode again recently, to revisit this quote: “when a manic-depressive person tells you they’re depressed, you don’t sympathize. You just say, ‘oh,’ and wait for them to be fine again.” Super relatable, but I told that to my therapist, and psychiatrist and they both said they liked it. Assuming they use it against me, I’ll have to fire them.

Really, though. The past few days have been fine. Coming up from an episode of chronic fatigue really puts things into perspective. I spent the next few days relaxing and recuperating my energy. After that, I spent two days deep cleaning and organizing my apartment for those comfy vibes. I can focus more now on different projects that sort of fell to the wayside. Even before the fatigue, I was feeling pretty depressed. That’s when I start joking about how negative I’m feeling because even my deepest sentiments are just a joke by that point.

I bought linseed oil the other day so I can even work on oil painting again. I got my new 3/4 guitar in the mail as well, which is nice because I haven’t been able to practice with the jumbo guitar I was gifted. I’m trying to learn a few Mazzy Star and Mac Demarco songs. I just remembered I need a capo for most Mac songs. I want to be able to use my Mac to record some songs using my poetry as lyrics. I’m also jumping back into drawing via Photoshop, and making a beat I started in FL Studio. I’m trying to get into rapping, too.

I don’t know what else to write about, since it’s only been about a week before I was sleeping all day everyday. I hopped back into D&D the other night, which was a lot of fun. I wasn’t paying attention and accidentally attacked during a ceasefire, so shit got real. I had a fun date last night. I’m still working on the murals. I started smoking again… That’s actually something I want to get into a bit. I tried to quit for 30 days. 30 days had passed, and I didn’t even realize it until after I broke and bought another pack. I couldn’t stand the brain fog and munchies. I hate feeling stupid like that– constant cloudiness, brain farts. It’s soooo hard to deal with. I will say I was fine, and the first week was the hardest, until those 30 days were up, and I started craving them again. Oh well.

I’m trying to get outside more often before it starts getting too cool. Summer has really passed with Covid preventing me from going forward with my plans to visit NYC and Boston a few times this year. I had planned to see Anamanaguchi and Real Estate, respectively, but canceled. At least, they’ll likely be rescheduled when it’s safe again. I never got to see Real Estate the last time they were in New York, so I was really looking forward to that. I also wanted to visit NYC for museum trips, and Ladurée. I’ve never been to the latter, and really want to go. It’s such a cute trip idea, I think, to visit that shop and the natural history museum. The last time I went, there was a live butterfly exhibit that always sticks out in my mind. I love… good memories.

I don’t know what else to say. Since I was dealing with bipolar symptoms so intensely last week, I mostly have the present and future to blog about. I just plan to get some creative projects done soon. \

Here are some cute pictures of me with my ideal haircut from last year (before gaining the weight I inevitably lost):

What even is there to write about?

Fuck. Seriously.

Someone suggested I write about my experience as a half-Asian teenager going to school in a class of ~100 people where I was the only other of two Asian people. My experience was unique, they told me. Not to mention, we were poor, my mom was adopted, and my dad was raised by the Depression-era grandparents of his single mother. That all comes with the sort of intimacy issues that develop when you’re never hugged as a kid.

I was picked on in school. I literally had pennies slipped down the back of my shorts while eating alone at lunch. I was called a “Chinese-Japanese whore” in middle school, not even knowing what the word “lesbian” actually meant. At home, mom was unpredictable in mood, and dad was sort of a control freak/tiger parent. “Your dad was crazy.” No, you don’t understand what he was going through.

That’s the extent of that. School sucked, and home life sucked. Now I have a hard time making eye contact with people. I can’t even complain too much because I developed some serious positive alterations to my personality over the past few years. Some people can’t say that, and end up stuck in those thought patterns their entire life– depressed, and maybe bitter. Not to say that I’m not a bitter person. I feel like I’m 100 years old some days. Not quite 1,000 because I lack the wisdom necessary to prevent cycles from occurring in my actions; and I definitely think self-help is lame, as useful a tool as it is. I look back at all the positive things I say and do, and think, “who are you kidding? You’re gonna end up alone in your room at 4am for an entire week straight, watching Youtube again.”

We’re all plummeting toward oblivion, and there’s no way to stop it. I see all these people so full of joy and positivity because they found themselves after traveling abroad or hiking for a couple months. I can’t relate to that at all! What does it even mean to find yourself? I feel most comfortable in my bed, watching cartoons and possibly smoking a cigarette (will get back to that in a minute). I hate traveling, and I hate hiking. Fuck yoga, juice cleanses, and pseudo-Buddhism quote memes. When I make goals and practice skills, it’s out of sheer boredom and self-hatred. I won’t find myself through those activities. I’ll still be the same neurotic, deeply butthurt-about-being-conned-by-life person but with a new, healthier body and a few additional skills.

No one knows what happens after we die, and a lot of people are so certain nothing happens. Nothing. I would love to find comfort in that idea so my fear of death wouldn’t be so prominent in life. My brain goes to all these weird places about death, where sometimes, I’ll believe that maybe this is hell, and my mind is myself trapped inside this stupid primal idiot body that just wants to eat and be fucked– for procreation to temporarily relieve the stress of not moving my lineage forward so the population of my species will survive. Too many psychotic episodes paired with being sedated by medication will do that. It will create this illusion that there is something more, and that my mind being its anxious neuroses isn’t in control of the horrendously boring movie that’s taking place on the camera of my eyes.

Let’s talk about that a bit, going back to how my life is just a series of becoming hopeful about things changing, then falling back into the negative mind space of always being the same horrible person I’ve been forever. I try to do what people tell you about enjoying the little things and building experiences. I take myself out for ice cream, I do stretches after a light meal, I try something new. Before Covid-19 happened, I planned to visit NYC a few times this year. At the end of the day, though, I don’t find the appreciation of those memories as more than memories; and I’ll likely forget about them, when I end up back in my space of physical comfort, still deeply unhappy because a selfie with an ice cream cone doesn’t solve everything. What goes on in these people’s minds that these activities are serving more than the quick dopamine rush of consumption of what have you? ALL WE DO IS CONSUME. Seriously. We take in these small experiences, then shit them out, inevitably moving on to the next one until we die. I’ll go for a bike ride on a sunny day, end up under a tree in the park with music, then still dissociate from my subpar fantasy, thinking about how I’m going to be alone again in a few hours losing the battle to depression as it eats away at my ability to retain the notion that there is such a thing as a lasting happiness and not everything is a deceptive trap of temporarily feeling okay before it dissipates to never existing.

Life is pain. It’s meaningless, and we can only experience the pure joy of it in sample amounts while suffering in between– most of us while slaving away for jobs that don’t bring any semblance of the fulfillment which many of us crave– and, worse, creating a void of satisfaction with everyday life. Being a neet and having the opportunity to do whatever I want has been beneficial to me in that I’m less depressed than I would be working a cashier position at a drugstore. It’s also made me crazy because I have too much time on my hands to expand on these thoughts. Let’s weigh that out: losing my mind to insanity, or greeting people at CVS so I don’t get fired then undoubtedly losing my mind to insanity?

I’m just kidding. I am pretty positive about how things are going in my life. I just got paid for the rest of my work on the murals. In addition to that, I get a bonus which I’m saving for when I’m finished. The bonus will be enough for me to build a powerful PC and I’m pretty excited about that. I’ll get to use Photoshop more efficiently, as well as run games.

With the money I just received, I bought a ton of grooming and cleaning supplies for my apartment in bulk so I won’t have to purchase them again for months. It was a chunk of change but a good investment. I also bought parts to fix my ukulele, as well as toys! TOYS! I love investing in toys. I mostly bought Rick and Morty paraphernalia a) because that’s my favorite show so fuck you, and b) because those babies are gonna have a turnover rate in a few years that is dummy thicc. $10-15 a pop now, and I’ll be rich in the future, baby. The other things were mostly Kidrobot, blind boxes, Hello Kitty, Hot Wheels, etc. I want to invest in another LEGO set because the one I have from a few years ago increased in value by about 200%. I just haven’t figured out which one I want. I may go with Batman next, but not certain. Shopkins are something I always meant to invest in but they’re just not as prioritized at the moment. I do have to eventually sit down and look at prices for the classic N64 cartridges because I’ll kick myself if I don’t buy them soon. Conker’s is worth ~$90 at the moment and I want to make a move there.

I hate that I know how to budget. It’s been such a trying few years as money goes, and I haven’t had the opportunity to spend leisurely unless I purchase the things I need in bulk. It’s a bittersweet relationship I have with that skill, but it’s a useful one nonetheless. Someday, collecting all the useless garbage I have now will be worth it all, and I’ll be able to say that then. For now, I will live in my womanchild dump of a Willy-Wonka-lookin’-ass apartment.

Buying toys has been the highlight of these past few weeks, and I feel like I am literally going insane again being couped up in my apartment. I’ve been doing a lot of creative work. Art fills the void, after all. I started working more on mixing music, and I’m feeling very accomplished in that area of improvement.

Some other things on my repertoire for the coming weeks:
Guitar
Piano
Reading
Watercolors
Comics
Singing/rapping

Yes, I do like to sing and rap. I feel very good about the notion, but I need to be a bit more focused regarding music generally before there’s any output there. I haven’t been updating my poetry page much lately because I haven’t been feeling much of anything including super sad. Existential? Maybe. Sad? Not really. Maybe.

Which one do I shoot?

Tired From Here on Out

I have to accept that I’m just going to be tired a lot of the time. I recently had one of my medications bumped from one injection every four weeks to once every 3 weeks. I was having breakthrough symptoms during the last week before it was due, every month, so I had to change the dosage. As a result, I’m sleeping more, tired, and in sort of a haze.

In the past, when I was exhausted from medication, I was also depressed. At the moment, I’m not depressed, so I’m able to get myself out of bed at the very least– even if I end up being unable to sleep fewer than 10 hours without being in that inky, sludgy state of tiredness all day. You know, where the sun hurts? Coffee doesn’t help, etc. It’s very much like a hangover, vomiting optional.

Anyway, things aren’t all bad for Brittney. Like I said, I’m not depressed, so even if I’m tired, I still have the motivation to work on things. I’ve just been having trouble with self-starting, because normally when I end a depressive episode, I have more energy to just jump into a project. I was worried I was in the midst of starting another episode because I wasn’t experiencing that energy. Nope, just sleepy. Not to mention, I have’t had a cigarette in 8 days; and I gave myself TMJ (either from quitting or medication, not sure which but I’ve been grinding my teeth like crazy). So here I am, with a glaze over my eyes, after 4 cups of coffee, writing anyway, and looking forward to spending the rest of my day working on things through the fog.

I ordered an epic racist sad frog from 4chan.com!

I intended to purchase a Nintendo 2DS XL from Walmart this week because it was on sale. After struggling with an elderly woman in customer service who clearly did not a) know how to use a computer, or b) want to be there (and I don’t blame her), I decided to go to the store and check out the inventory myself. They had just run out the day before. Welp. I had just bought a R4i card from Newegg for $4 ($10 coupon!), so I could pirate the games via emu .rar files so I’ll have that in a few days, without the 2DS. I would have just purchased one online, but it’s $40 more, approximately, and as some of you know, I’m not the richest person in the world (mainly due to just having quit a smoking habit). Nor am I excellent at saving money; but I’m giving myself some leniency this week just because my brain needed some sort of dopamine rush from self-appointed gifts where the cigarettes used to burn. I ended up purchasing a new hat from Gas Drawls since I really wanted a new cap. I also bought a baseball jersey from Wu Wear. Am I behaving too wildly with these purchases? My wallet would say yes, but my ego is inflated to satisfaction.

I had originally written a post yesterday to fulfill my regular Wednesday post. I ended up deleting it all to re-write. I ended up waking up Tuesday at 10PM, and staying up the whole day, so the writing was bordering word salad, and I was too tired to finish the post.

I had an appointment with my therapist yesterday, as usual, and we mainly spoke about how I’m being a good past Brittney for future Brittney, as I’ve mentioned in my previous post. She said she loved that. She’s very good at validating me for my efforts and resilience in spite of all things. I really enjoy working with her. I do believe she tries to be much more careful about how I manage stress than I would be, typically. She even suggested that I have a cigarette if things get too bad. Enabler! I really do sort of have an issue with giving myself a break, and we believe that has something to do with PTSD, and the ongoing high levels of stress under which I feel comfortable. You know, until I crumble under the pressure. I’m really good at that. Trying to be worse!

The past two appointments we had, I spoke with her about two very specific things. The first was an experience I had last year during an ~8-month manic/psychotic episode when I had been given permission by my doctor not to be on medication. I’ll add that it’s really difficult to tell when you’re functional, until that’s actually the case; especially in a case where you’ve been off essential medication for a long period of time, and reality is.. What is that? What we had identified was something she referenced to me called internal family systems therapy. It’s like a less severe version of dissociative identity disorder, where one will split their personality into different “family members” to handle things like stress. I had briefly gone by the name Rooney White, and believed that this identity was a part of me that was separate from Brittney who’s in control typically. I had a few other identities, and would switch between them as needed to cope. The difference between this and DID is that I was well-aware of the alternate identities, and had all the same memories.

The other thing we spoke about, the following week, was an experience I had that can best be described by the Internet term, “oneitis.” I mentioned this briefly in my previous post. The point of that topic this week was explaining that I was having a hard time finding myself feeling attracted to anybody ever since I got over oneitis; and realized I was no longer attracted to that oneitis. When there’s seemingly only one person left for you, then that person is no longer attractive either, who’s left? I’m sure that there’s someone out there for me. Right? HAHahah. RIGHT”? AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Giga virgin fuckboy!

For real, though. People change. One minute, they’re Prince Charming. Then they pressure you into doing drugs in spite of having explained that you have schizophrenia. They leave you, lose a ton of weight, buy their new personality, hop on Tinder, and become a fuckperson.

Brittney, that seems very specific, hun.

Maybe it is. Mind your own business.

when you post about your ex’s wrongdoing on your blog but only 5 people will read it

Speaking of personal relationships, and people leaving. I had two experiences recently that were less than ideal. I had lost a friend previously, but she was kind of going through some messy personal stuff, even since I met her this past year. We got into a tiff, and she became very accusatory, so we agreed not to be friends anymore. I’ll admit it was kind of a relief, since she was difficult to deal with a lot of the time, having an explosive outburst occasionally. I loved her, but it’s nice being able to go out, and not have to mediate every time my friend starts an argument with the manager over not wearing a mask. Yeah, so…

The other friendship ordeal kind of brought back feelings about how it’s difficult to be friends with guys since someone often develops feelings of some sort, and things become complicated. We’re still “online friends,” but I doubt we’ll hang out in person again, unfortunately. He’s typically a good friend, and actually reads this blog sometimes. It does kind of feel bad when it seems like your company is reduced to your worth as only a potential partner/your female bits, and not for your company, or something. As I said, these are the feelings it had brought up, but not necessarily the case.

I ended up discussing both with my therapist, and she and I agreed that it wasn’t a matter of my personality being the issue; and that I had lost (almost) two friends for two very different reasons. My brain looks for patterns in situations like that when I’m stressed, and I told myself, in this case, “no.” I waited to talk it out in therapy, and Carolyn was proud of me for being able to stop that train of thought on my own. I’m a good person and a good friend. It was merely a coincidence that these friends had come and gone. Considering I had only really begun making friends this past year, I assume that’ll be the case at times. People leave, sometimes, and it’s just something that has to be accepted without taking fault.

Something else I spoke about with my therapist was similar to IFST, but not quite the same. It was rooted in some of the family members I had developed at the time, based on phases I went through throughout my life. I believe they were all related to photos of myself at different ages, and the various dreams I remembered I had had for what my life would look like at each age; but couldn’t accomplish for various reasons. I ended up collecting a lot of things to satisfy each of those people, and changing my personality, increasing my happiness and confidence.

I’ll probably at some point get more into that. The point of going through each of these phases was to better identify my personality, and get a feel for what components made me, me. I revisited music I had loved in high school, movies and TV that I always identified with, goals I had had throughout my life but had never been able to fulfill. I looked at the struggles I faced at each age, and recognized my own resilience. I took a look at all the things I did accomplish, and even attempted over time. It made me really appreciate who I was, and who I am. It gives me a better idea of the positive things I have ahead of me in the future. This all comes back to being a good past Brittney for future Brittney because I have more self-love available for every stage of my life. Even if the going gets tough, I am at least equally as tough to see through present and future obstacles, as I always have.

oh, and i’m practicing more self-care

It’s Time to Get Fucking Serious, Guys.

Guys, it’s time to get fucking serious.

No more jokes.

But Brittney, I don’t really find humor in your blog. Where are the jokes? I haven’t laughed once, and, to be honest, I find your “humor” off-putting. Maybe focus on a punchline, and don’t rely on memes for “expression.”

No one told you to read my blog, anonymous stalker(s). If you don’t like what you see, I don’t know why you’d visit. Maybe you need someone to laugh about because your life is in such shambles that you use my shitty personal writing as a means of escape from your own harsh self-criticisms. If that’s the unfortunate case, please, continue. I’m sorry. I always hoped I could bring some necessary sort of sunshine to somebody else’s miserable life.

I quit smoking on Wednesday evening. I actually am using this opportunity to pass some time while I avoid thinking about smoking a cigarette. I’ve been awake since 8PM last night, and it is now about 8AM. I slept for 15 hours yesterday because I didn’t have the option of smoking my regular two morning cigarettes; and I stayed asleep to dodge the inevitable disappointment that is confronting my life, especially without a cigarette.

Heh, I’m just kidding. I don’t sleep to avoid my problems. Anymore. I have been unusually tired for being in higher spirits, however, due to quitting, so I’ve been sleeping a lot. Typically, if I’m very depressed, I’ll sleep like that. I haven’t had a depressive episode in a few weeks, though, which is why I decided to act now and quit. You know, because, naturally, when things bega=in moving on an upswing for me, I decide to take advantage of it, and put off experiencing the joys of life, by focusing all my energy on overcoming another obstacle. Maybe someday, I’ll be able to feel happiness and relaxation. In the meantime, there are goals to be accomplished.

I looked up an app for organizing my goals, and the first result was MindMeister, which is a pretty simple and intuitive web map. I decided to map out goals focused mainly on building skills, and a few other things. The most pressing matters in my life right now are smoking, my weight, and how competent I feel doing the things I would like to excel at in my 30s. Really, I’m trying to be a good Past Brittney, and set up Future Brittney for success and happiness. I like Future Brittney, and I hope she likes and appreciates me. I hope she’s reading this, too, and doesn’t take credit for all my hard work.

Last year, I was in really poor shape, physically speaking. I was smoking like a chimney, and eating mostly fast food and sweets for every meal. I decided to take things the extra-slow route, and replace all my favorite junk foods with healthier options. Plantain chips instead of potato chips, trail mix (with white chocolate chips) instead of candy, sriracha on everything that wasn’t battered and fried.

Now, I don’t entirely chock my poor health up to sheer ignorance or complacency. As you have or will (or never will) read in my previous posts, medication was a huge factor in my weight going up and down over the years. I got on a good routine, and have been on that routine since the beginning of the year. Changing medication and my diet at the same time resulted in losing 10lb in a month. After that, I did keto, and lost an additional 15lb. That’s 25lb this year before I plateaued. Granted, I never counted calories or paid attention to portions because I had been less hungry due to balancing my sugar, especially on keto.

Before I begin counting calories, I’m going to begin planning out my meals with healthy options, and try to be mindful of how often I’m eating less nutritional foods. I want to eat more foods that increase the production of serotonin, and generally be mindful of calories without logging or obsessing over them. For instance, acknowledging that a packet of oatmeal is around 170kcal, and two eggs are approximately 140kcal, off the top of my head. That’s a nice, balanced breakfast, and I can be aware of how many calories I’m consuming without it becoming a religion. Not that there’s anything wrong with counting calories. I have a tendency to fixate, and become very discouraged if I am not in deficit, however.

Additionally, a friend offered me helpful advice on adding physical activity into my routine. It’s something else I have typically fixated on in the past. I have this other stupid tendency of rushing into physical activity by pushing myself, then I have zero motivation to do it again the next day because I’m too tired or in pain from the previous day. He suggested I just focus 30 minutes on something like a walk or light stretching, and build onto that as time passes. Rather than working out to burn calories, just put an emphasis on getting connected with myself doing something physical for thirty minutes everyday.

Since I am, and have been pretty sedentary, I’m going to start with walking and stretching. Then I’m going to begin adding beginner’s yoga, then beginner’s Pilates, then walking/jogging, regular Pilates, then jogging/running, and HIIT. Eventually, I want the confidence to begin taking some sort of martial arts class, and dancing. This is all long-term goal-setting, however, so I will be working on this as I approach the weight I want to be at by 30. Stretching these goals over time will also give my lungs some time to heal.

My other goals on the chart are mostly hobby/skill-based, and speak for themselves. I want to be competent at a number of skills so I can enjoy those activities in my 30s. As the Tiger Mom would tell us, “you can’t enjoy something if you aren’t good at it!!”

I don’t exactly subscribe to that way of thinking, but she does sort of make a good point. Good point, Tiger Mom. Don’t swallow your cub.

I realize how much smoking was holding me back both physically and mentally. It was preventing me from getting the exercise that would inevitably improve my mental health, while also draining me of self-esteem and energy. I want to be able to say that I’ve quit smoking before I turn 27 in October, then never turn back. Until I’m 80 years old, and already about to die of old age. Maybe.

Am I in Love with Him or Does He Just Have a Nice Beard?

Is he just wearing glasses? Does he just dress like it’s 2010? Does he like music whatsoever?

I’ve always been attracted to the hipster look since my first stage of ~maturation~ in high school, begrudgingly. Far be it from me to update my taste; or forget the cringiness of– or let go of, and allow to drift into oblivion– my twee phase. If a guy looked like a cartoon grizzly bear in WASP-y glasses (looking, possibly misleadingly, and more ironically, well-read), approached me, I’d be sure to fall in love with him.

Maybe it was all the indie MPDG movies I watched as a teenager. Maybe it was the Tumblrs I followed in high school, featuring ironic/post-ironic media. Maybe it was the security of finding somebody who would be my intellectual and artistically inclined superior (again, those WASP-y glasses). Maybe for the sake of psychological reasoning, it’s the semblance to a teddy bear lost sometime during puberty. Oof.

I’m officially giving up dating for now, and deleting my app accounts. I need more time to spend working on my goals and hobbies, and I’m uninterested in settling on somebody who doesn’t strike me as particularly interesting and genuinely fun. It makes me a bit nauseous actually, to even think about entering the intimacy and intensity of another monogamous relationship with any somebody right now. The type of man I want would be fun to be around, accept me as I am, never feel intimidated by me especially to the point of tearing me down (sounds personal, right? Because it is.), and appreciate me. I haven’t found that person, albeit my dating pool is small, living where I am.

I’m just so disappointed by the people I’ve met across all apps. If guys say that girls are hard to talk to, and all like the same things across many profiles; the majority of guys on those apps all like the same things, are “shy but open up,” and their humor is limited to sarcasm and dad jokes. Those are just the guys who aren’t creeps.

I thought that maybe the physical aspects of another person’s company would be satisfying, but I’m not even looking for that anymore. This idea that people desperately need touch and security to survive is just so foreign to me at this point. Most sex isn’t even great sex, so why bother searching even for that? There are much more efficient means of achieving that sort of satisfaction, without the help of another person.

Today, with my therapist, I discussed an experience I had had in the past, with oneitis. It went on for about 2 years; when in actuality, I had spent some mediocre time with this person. It happened to be the best time I had had in maybe a year due to depression, so, naturally, I was inclined to find that rush again to no avail.

It did teach me a lot of lessons that I’m glad I’ve learned. For one, from my point of view, this person was very extroverted, and seemed to live experiencing a lot of what life has to offer. He was confident, stylish, and had fun. The depressive era I had been experiencing was inspired, and I decided that if I wasn’t going to be with this person, I would change the things about myself that I found attractive in his life on Instagram. I didn’t want to rely on another person or live vicariously through them to feel whole. I wanted to be whole.

I had no friends, no style, no hobbies, and was especially depressed about having been NEET for a handful of years already. No structure and no path to move forward on was taking a toll on my self-esteem more than I had realized.

The first thing I had done, to give myself something to hold onto, was start a relationship. Before you assume that that was a poor first step for somebody who wanted to feel whole without another person, hear me out. I approached somebody with the intention of beginning a long-term relationship to give myself a companion with whom to share experiences, as somebody who was not yet used to being alone. The prospect of being single, and starting a life from the ground up made it difficult to put one foot forward, and I felt it’d be a positive experience for all. It was fair, and lasted one year. Most importantly, it taught me a lot about what I didn’t want from a relationship when it was over.

I learned that I had to get over jealousy, co-dependency, and doing things on my own without a partner. I also learned that there are some traits that I just can’t mesh with, being me. That was plenty to learn about myself, and made me realize just how immature I was in terms of dating. Until you experience something, then take a step back, it’s hard to know just which negative or toxic behaviors you’re displaying!

The relationship lasted one year, and, in two years now, I haven’t entered another relationship since. It isn’t that I’m afraid to enter another relationship now, but I’ve grown so much since then, being single; and knowing it’s okay to say, “no, I don’t want to move forward here. It just doesn’t feel right.” I know more about what I want, and what I’m looking for. I just haven’t found it!

I’m okay with that.

Since meeting that person who inspired me to live more outwardly, I have gotten out of my head. Having been somebody who ruminated a lot, and worried about what people would think, it was refreshing to meet somebody bold who was unapologetically himself. I wanted to emulate that energy, as myself.

I started with journaling again, for the first time since high school, getting my thoughts onto paper. I began buying clothing that fit the styles I liked. I picked up a few hobbies, took risks, and put myself more fully into the things I enjoyed. At some point, I began an audio diary on my phone, where I could safely discuss all the issues that sort of triggered me since my youth. I was able to talk about it all, in my shaky voice, organizing my speech, and emptying myself of insecurities that I would typically keep to myself. I would listen to it over again, then re-record to better organize my patterns of speech, and compose a dialogue that was coherent, detailed, and not shaky. Getting it all out helped me structure a timeline of events in my mind, and find order. My mind no longer ran in loops of regret.

Podcasting was super helpful for me as well. I publicly expressed myself once I felt I had worked through things from the past. I had a free space in my mind for having fun, and being funny. The podcast was a recording I would do once a week to make jokes, be creative and have fun. Hearing myself telling jokes helped me feel more confident about being someone who’s fun and interesting with whom to talk. I started by drawing inspiration from my favorite comedians, and made my own original content. I had two fans, and that was enough for a show I had only planned to upload as an archive. Yay!

I think that my recent string of depressive episodes– lying in bed, avoiding confrontation with mortality, thinking about the many things I’ll never accomplish if I continue to lie in bed, ad infinitum– had created a loop wherein I blamed loneliness for my lack of enthusiasm. After a string of discouraging dates, and unsuccessfully finding my soulmate, I realized yet again, that happiness and fulfillment doesn’t come from leeching off another person. Even if he has a nice beard, and glasses.

That said, if you are a 2010 era hipster in 2020, give me a call.

Epic Wins!

I’m feeling much, much better than I had been before. That being said, I was feeling pretty bad. Still, it’s better than feeling anxious and on the brink of a panic attack almost always. I went to the crisis unit about two weeks ago to talk to the staff about suicidal thoughts that I had been experiencing again. My last one or two posts have taken place between then and now, but I didn’t feel ready to write about that. I was a little bit paranoid that if I had gotten into it, I would have fallen back into that frame of mind. So here I am, able to say that.

The thoughts aren’t necessarily my own– “I want to die,” “I wish I was dead,” or “I wish I could sleep forever.” They’re more intrusive than anything, and prevent me from being able to focus on anything in the present. I start to listen to them, then it feels as if they’re my own. I begin to believe what the thoughts are saying to me, and then I begin thinking about how to do it. As soon as I begin to think of what my friends and family would think, I can usually stop myself from thinking about it. Sometimes, it goes beyond that, though, and I begin to ruminate on what it feels like to be dying, if it’ll be painful, and what death is actually like. At that point, I’m usually calling my family, suicide hotline, or 911 (depending on the time of day) for help getting through it, or to the hospital.

I do have some ideas of what death could be like. I’ve been reading the Tibetan Book of the Dead, and have kind of become intrigued by some of the content. Mostly, because I have read a lot about psychedelia, and the psychology of ego death. There’s a lot of crossover between the topics, which I find interesting. Also, the foreward of the book is written by Carl Jung, who has often discussed ego death in his work– as well as the conscious, subconscious and unconscious, similar to Freud’s work.

I feel that the way we sleep at night– either dreaming, or mentally crawling out of the inky blackness into our waking mind– is what death, or dying, is like. It doesn’t appear to be so intimidating in that sense. Another interesting idea is related to the descriptions of the feelings of eternity when experiencing a DMT trip. If death is like a trip on DMT (which is produced by the brain when dying), then the incomprehensible dreaminess of the drug, as well as the feeling of eternity, could make for an experience of “heaven.” People have often said that they can communicate with God during a trip, but that, although the experience is memorable, it’s irretrievable what was communicated during that contact. Confronting with DMT could feel like an eternal detachment from the body and conscience, then unconsciously end with an unnoticeable death of the mind. Completely painless.

That’s just my theory. I’m crazy! Don’t listen to me. Or do. I don’t care!

I spent 26 hours awake yesterday. It was 100 degrees the other day, and I had no motivation to get up so I slept until 5PM. My friend texted me shortly afterward, asking if I wanted to hang out for a BBQ after the sun set. I arrived around 7PM, and we hung out and drank until the sun came up yesterday. I ended up leaving around 10AM, and getting settled in at home around 12PM after running some errands. I texted my dad and asked if he’d like to spend some time together. He picked me up, I grabbed some beer at the store, and we drank together for a few hours. I only lasted until around 5PM. My dad tried to tempt me to stay for dinner because they were making shrimp and BBQ. His use of food as coercion always entertains me. I couldn’t stay, though, and had to go home. It wasn’t until 7PM, after throwing up a few times, that I finally fell asleep. All in all, I spent the majority of 26 hours drunk, and happy.

I made a few friends at the BBQ, and generally have been more social lately. I rarely spend much time alone. This week, however, I’m taking some time to be alone at home. I love being able to decompress with my introverted activities, and organize some of my thoughts and feelings. This week, I’m working on painting the murals. Then, I have my usual therapy appointment and D&D campaign. I’m also watching my favorite film, The Comedy, by Rick Alverson, with a friend on Thursday. Otherwise, I have plenty of time for myself, and for any upcoming time to be spent with friends.

I was talking to a guy for a few weeks, but I don’t think it’s going anywhere. We made plans to go on dates two weeks in a row, and he blew me off both weekends in a row. It’s a shame because he was pretty stupid like me, and we could banter to the point that it became indecipherable what was real and what was memeing. He looks like Seth Rogen, but personality-wise, reminds me of Andy Dwyer. I’m digressing, though. Because he hadn’t been able to meet up with me, I’ve decided I’m not going to pursue a relationship there anymore. We’re still communicating, but I think I’m only interested in a friendship with the potential of meeting when he’s less sacked.

I’m always talking about boys and the lack of a relationship on my blog, but it’s my blog and if you don’t like it, just close your eyes. Exit the tab. No one wants you here.

It is difficult to find someone who can be very stupid, and at the same time, loves learning and having stimulating conversations. Humor is a huge indicator of intelligence, and super attractive to me as someone who likes a little bit of both flavors– intellectualism and idiocy. Usually, that suggests someone is a lunatic.

My hair has changed a few times recently, but I’ve settled on a bright green pixie cut. I kind of love it, and have only done a pixie cut once in the past. It was and still is the best. My friend and GM helped me bleach and dye my hair last week, and he’s not exactly a cosmetologist so it came out uneven, but I kind of like it. That being said, I’m probably going to bleach and dye it again this week to even it out. He’s having a nautical-themed board game party next week, so I’m going to wear my white ruffled blouse with, I don’t know, overalls or something.

In the Vacuum of Space

It’s 6AM. I went to bed around 10PM, and woke up at 4 this morning. Six hours is good for me.

I smoke a cigarette every morning when I first wake up to alleviate the fog in my mind. After about half the cigarette is gone, my thoughts are clearer.

I sit there for those 5-10 minutes, sometimes listening to music, and being present. The AC is blowing, and dripping, and I can feel the warm sheets against my skin in contrast with the cool air.

This is my ritual every morning, before coffee is made, and I begin grooming. From then on, my day is up in the air. It used to make me very depressed to live this way, without any idea of how to fill my time. Now, I have just a tendency to fill it well. I joke about that as if there is any sort of expectation put on me to achieve anything. I try not to take life too seriously, because I find that that only induces unnecessary distress on what I look at as the extradimensional canvas of thoughts and emotions– the Pinterest board of my mind. There’s no room for deep-fried images of four McDonald’s at an intersection, among photos of the backs of girls’ heads, nail art, and interior design.

We talk about the vacuum of space as if it’s alien and incomprehensible to us, when we’re always existing in it. When the significance of your schedule becomes obsolete, you transcend time, and the countless hours you spend watching Netflix specials loses its meaning.

Speaking of which, almost nothing makes me laugh anymore. I overdid it a few years back, watching comedy almost exclusively when I was less depressed. For reference, that’s like doing a fuck ton of wheelchair tricks before actually becoming crippled. I do laugh at things, but I’m way too comfortable with, like, absurdity. I think I need to become a caretaker for a Korean veteran, and just listen to him abuse me all day because he mistakes me for the enemy. Would that satisfy me? What would fulfill me?

I think about how I have a few different goals:
1. Get comfortable enough to perform at an open mic.
2. Join or start an improv troupe.
3. Get a bunch of meaningless tattoos.
4. Get a van and travel cross-country.

That’s the extent of it, and more than half of them I’m reserving for my 30s. I work on things like skills when I’m not just looking at images on my computer for 8 hours. That does sometimes happen. I love looking at images. It feels good to un-wrinkle my brain for hours, a couple days at a time.

I’m about to be femcel’d again, I know it. I started talking to this guy I met on Bumble. He’s almost to a T what I was hoping to find, including being a good sport about roasting each other. Unfortunately, I went a little bit too hard, and it brought up some concerns which I guess he hadn’t previously considered. For the past couple days, we’ve been back and forth about how he believes he isn’t good enough for me, and that I need to seriously consider the pros and cons of dating him. I accidentally charred our roast.

I try to ignore the feels I get from “Nobody” by Mitski, which I mentioned in a previous post. The track slaps, though, so I listen to it all the time. It’s so convenient that we can distract ourselves from even our most primal needs like touch and security. There’s just so much media, and distraction. I love living in 2020. People say this is the worst timeline, but even so, I feel lucky all the time that I was born in this era, with all the access to technology, food, entertainment. All tragedy and evil aside, things are pretty cool. Kids die all the time, around the world, but at that age, they don’t really have a concept of mortality. Maybe we should stop teaching children that dying is a bad thing. Maybe they should be taught that living is good, and it isn’t permanent. They don’t need to be told that God is good, and that there’s a heaven. They should be taught that most people don’t amount to anything, and that life’s pleasure is sometimes reduced to eating a Wendy’s brand hamburger. People don’t often amount to anything, and their opinions will only ever be opinions. Don’t take life seriously, and death doesn’t sound that bad.

That’s all I really have to say today. I hope no one ever reads this blog and takes something away from it. I would hope all this shitty writing would never influence anyone. Move to trash.

#NP “It’s Been A While”

Not actually. 

The following was written on my Mac about 3 days ago when I didn’t have internet service:
Remember one month ago, when everyone was protesting either wearing a mask or the death of yet another black man by police brutality? Remember? The news covered both. 
I’m feeling better since my most recent series of depressive episodes. For one, I got my Mac running on Catalina finally. Apple made the previous OS available so I was able to upgrade, and utilize the computer. 
Imagining if that was the one thing that could get me through hardship. Getting my meds adjusted, again, has improved my mood and anxiety greatly. I’m still relying on Ativan to function, but I’ll take the false neurotypical stability over episodes of crying and nervousness. Things still feel as if they could tip at any moment, but I think that’s just more of the anxiety being treated improperly; but it’s difficult to get Ativan even prescribed when you’ve done a shit ton of psychedelics in the past. 
I met a boy at some point, who temporarily filled the void with male attention, and feelings of desirability. He lived in Toronto, and we never met. He was cute, and we’re still friends. However, I realized how difficult it is to date people who are also unstable in terms of anxiety and depression. That’s a lot of men who are near 30 and share my interests. Guys my age fit the bloomer meme too accurately, guys slightly older than me are depressed or at least “depressed chic”/doomer memes. I won’t even consider guys younger than I am. 
I’m definitely not not guilty of fitting the doomer meme. I mean, isn’t life meaningless and suffering inevitable? I looked into the different philosophical memes, and couldn’t find one that accurately fit. If the spectrum is nihilist to existentialist, then it’s as if I’ve hit shit-pilled rockbottom and have decided which things aren’t totally meaningless. Now I work on figuring out how to manifest those things in my life and how to give value to them. My principles include expression, authenticity, family/friendships, and learning. Last year, when I was in the thick of it, I imagined “what if I was the last person in the world? What would I do?” The answer to depression caused by loneliness was to learn and experience as much as I possibly could, and to continue doing so between then and death— assuming Elon Musk doesn’t figure out how to chip my brain and preserve my conscious thoughts static to a brain-locked computer until I can be immortalized in a faux meat suit with organs resistent to formaldehyde. The answser to loneliness was learning how the normal characters in TV shows interact in social situations to overcome the Asperger’s, and form lasting relationships. 
I was talking to my friend last night about high-functioning Asperger’s Syndrome, and how we both dealt with the same things. Yes, we can appear normal and well-adjusted; but our minds are still running at the same capacity, in addition to being self-aware of the sperginess. One example is that I can start and keep up a conversation, but I’m thinking about what the most appropriate response is; and whether it’s autistic. I can figure out social cues, body language and empathizing. I can’t make eye contact a lot of the time, though. Sometimes it feels really fake to interact in those ways, as if I’m in a movie role, but I ignore those feelings and assume that’s just what it’s like to socialize oneself. I still don’t quite understand how some people have it so easy, and I often feel like a space alien interacting with the people of Earth. 
Anyway, I do still want a meaningful and lasting relationship, so I don’t just want a boyfriend if that means we won’t be together for a long time. In other words, I want the next boyfriend I have to be the last. I’m not only too old for short-term relationships, but I’m also incapable of sharing the whole of myself with somebody who doesn’t also want me to be their last relationship. It’s not really an emotional thing. It’s that there’s an impending doom ending, and I’ll be focused more on that lack of commitment than the present relationship. People’s feelings get hurt, and the longer you’re together, the worse that becomes. It just isn’t worth the pain later for the satisfaction now. 
I’ve always been too old for that, and have always looked at real relationships that way. However, I’m old enough now to see when somebody doesn’t meet the criteria I’m looking for, when I’ll fall out of love, or when they’re too flaky for that lasting relationship. So I’ve only become more picky about who it is that I’m dating, which shrinks my dating pool. I don’t want to end up with somebody and become unhappy because we’re together, though. I need somebody authentic with a great sense of humor, who’s ambitious, adventurous, and principled. They also need to have hobbies and interests, be independent, be communicative, enjoy conversation, and be able to express affection well. That’s a lot to ask, but it’s worth the wait. In the meantime, I’m pink-pilling myself via keto (down 25lb this year) to increase my odds of finding a partner. According to Myers-Briggs, as an ENTP, my dating pool of ideal partners is already not great at .5-1% of the population. It makes sense since I don’t have almost any matches across the apps I use, and swipe left on everyone unless they’re a chubby teddy bear with a beard. 
I’m finding that because of the loneliness, I’m becoming less attuned to the idea of only searching for my last boyfriend. I want to remain single until somebody really strikes me, but I still haven’t had sex in what has now been one year; and I’m tempted constantly to just start having sex again. I was afraid that it would be unsatisfying since I was looking for an emotional connection. Now I believe that just being with another person will be satisfying. I tried cuddling with a friend recently, and it wasn’t what I wanted. Things like that are better reserved for somebody I’m in love with. I believe having sex again will satisfy the craving for touch, as well as boost my confidence. I could be wrong, and it could make me more desperate for real intimacy. Who knows, though? 
The point of having a long list of desirable traits is to find somebody both exciting and emotionally available. I don’t want to end up bored, and sad, like most of my posts on this blog. I’ve been wanting to make a more positive post but I’m usually preoccupied with other projects when I’m happy. 
I did finish a digital painting recently, and learned another song on guitar (Mazzy Star – “Fade Into You”, which I will someday play for my forever boyfriend). I also learned a lot about FL Studio from a friend, so I plan to work on a new, better song soon. He’s super talented, and I’m glad he was able to share some tips. I’ve been getting paid to do murals for my dad’s gym, too. That’s a nice, consistent project to have on the side. Challenging, too, since they’re pretty large compared to what I do on canvas, or in Photoshop. I want to get myself to rearrange, and redecorate my apartment. In addition, I’d like to play more piano, read a bit more, and hop back into writing fiction. Journaling, exclusively, as writing goes has been tiring out my brain. I need to flex more of my creative muscles. 
Oh, I forgot— after bleaching half of my hair, I also pierced my own septum and second holes in my ears. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, and finally bit the bullet. I plan to draw up some tattoos for my half sleeves so I’ll have those ready when parlors open, and I have the money from the murals. I’m drawing a tattoo concept for a friend as a current project, which I’m excited about. I really want to get a (tattoo) gun, and practice on other people. 

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