If you're reading this you found my secret page. It probably isn't that well hidden, and I intend for that. I don't want "DIARY" to be up there in neon lights and have everyone who visits the page to read through everything. I'm not an open book, but I have to scream into the void somehow. My only request is you keep this to yourself, let this just be some little niche thing you know about. I'd appreciate it.
I know, a page that looks like a CLI is very original, well done Denno. The whole jumbled text thing at the beginning was not intended but I kinda like the effect. A lot of the code here was recycled from a dumb ARG I made for my Neotokyo server that I named "BONSNET". You can visit the page HERE if you want to take a crack at it yourself. As far as I know nobody even got the grand prize at the end, which is a spreadsheet of all the player data in the Winter Warzone 2023 tournament, they all assumed the strategy guides were the real prize. So I guess if anyone from the NEOTOKYO community is reading this, get back at it you lazy bastards.
As for the diary, I'm not going to make this intimately personal, I have pen and pad for that sort of thing. Its more or less another place for me to ramble and complain about things which don't fit on the other blog sections or the mini-journal. Yay.
Without further ado, I leave you to suffer through the clunky mobile unfriendly interface.
Trying to force myself to write, but it feels like pushing a broken rib back into my chest cavity. Its something I've tried to do to make use of this time I've been wide awake, unable to sleep. My eyes are bloodshot, my body is weary, but my mind is wide fucking awake. Trying to stay up all day so I can be tired enough to sleep at the end of the day, but I just know by the time daylight comes I'll suffer the constant brain fog until my head hits a pillow. All I really wrote so far is just a paragraph of Amaranth talking to Cristal after her fallout with Raelene;
“...Do you wanna talk about it?” Mom asked. I finished my goblet of the cold salal mead from the lake, and looked back at her. “No.” I said. Mom let out a sigh, then sat on the bench across from me. She folded her hands and looked into my eyes, “Sweetheart, I know things are bad right now, but if something’s bothering you-” “I said I’m fine.” I said, this time with more force. I shook the bottle, it was two thirds empty. “...You can finish it off if you’d like. I was saving it for a rainy day, but… it looks like you’re having one right now.” I looked back at the bottle, then pressed the cork back into it. “I just want to take my mind off of it.” I muttered. “Off everything.” Mom nodded in silence. We stayed there for a while, just looking out the muddled glass of the window. “...Hunt?” She asked. I parted my lips to answer, but instead nodded in agreement. “Kujah, let’s bag a deer or two.”
It took all night to come up with some way to start the 28th chapter, or whatever the hell chapter this is once I cut up the manuscript. But I don't even know how to progress further from here. Is it too soon to start the conflict? Do I need to flesh out more characters? What the fuck do I even do? I feel so creatively drained, not from just depression or creative fatigue, but like something is actively sapping it away from me. I've tried everything I could think of, things that usually bring joy or inspiration, things that are often my muse just aren't. Hell, I anticipated the storms and the rain right now to be a boon since its always helped, but they aren't. Much the same that lavender has always helped me sleep, but the sprigs beneath my pillow just haven't done the job they used to. Debaucherous few keep suggesting hashish, I look in the mirror and think 'alcohol', sometimes I catch a whiff of the quarter pound of tobacco I keep around, but I adamantly refuse to let an altered state fuel my work, since it wouldn't be me.
But sometimes I just wish I weren't me. I just wish I could lay down and sleep like a normal person. Think like a normal person. Have friends, someone that cares about me, do things, enjoy things, like a normal person. I'm seeing this through to the end no matter what, but suffering is just par for the course.
Having to deal with the whiney fallout of banning someone. The rain and wind returned in force. I just now realized September's ending and this year is almost at its end as well. It made me remember something an old classmate once told me in my game design class, how the passage of time seems shorter the older you get. How a year, or even an hour in your childhood is a lot longer than your maturity, where three hours can pass in the blink of an eye, a year slips through your fingers like sand in an hourglass. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I completely understand. I feel like I graduated a year ago when its been six years. I kind of just live day-to-day at this point. I wish I had more excitement, something to strive toward. I haven't wrote in my novel for quite a while, mainly because its just a struggle to get a single word down sometimes. My profession doesn't call for a degree, but I still feel unaccomplished without one. I hate driving, or I'd go somewhere and do something. I want to move out, but the housing market sucks and rent would force me to work two jobs at once. COVID and how it was handled completely destroyed my plans and its forced me to live at home. I hate living at home but its the only financially viable option, it doesn't help that my dad makes me feel guilty for it by bringing it up every single fucking time we exchange words. I don't have friends to be roommates with either, they're all married or out of state. I wanted to make this my year, but I said that last year too. Maybe I'll make next year my year. Or, the year after that.
I hope I'm gone by 30, the speed which time's been moving would mean I'd get old in relative hours. I just wish I won't die alone.
I think my recurring monthly episodes of migraines are coming back. When I was a child I used to have severely painful migraines which would hurt so bad I would vomit. It would occur monthly, but they stopped sometime after I finished elementary school. I've never got an MRI scan, money was tight then, but the doctors couldn't figure out what was happening in my skull. They chalked it up to potential allergic reactions, some biohazard, or a myriad of neurological disorders. This was over 10 years ago, I haven't had them in the same caliber I did then, perhaps my pain tolerance has just grown stronger as a result. I remember one episode when I was 9, I wanted to just fucking die because the school nurse wouldn't let me phone my parents to pick me up from school, and my classmates who learned about my headache started to fucking scream in my ear. It hurt so much, and all we had for it was OTC painkillers which hardly put a dent into it. I began to scream for it to stop, I could feel my cranium throb and probe the anterior fontanelle trying to escape. Family could do nothing but watch as I writhed in my bed.
They don't happen that often anymore. Every once in a while I completely shut down due to a powerful force in my head keeping me down. I can hardly do anything, hardly see, hardly hold anything, hardly eat. Its mostly why I have to work from home, I doubt any boss wants to handle the constant sick leave. Then, its happened a lot more often. Once every two months. Once every two months, my brain splits itself apart at every fold and crease of grey matter. I haven't gone to the doctors for it yet, because I know the medical bill will be insurmountable for something they'll probably miss and write off as an allergic reaction. I'm also afraid I'll find out I have the same thing she had. A rogue, foreign entity in my brain, a timer, my killer. Its worse when I consider how often I forget some things, a word, what happened five minutes ago, if I even ate today. Like I've always had something stuck in my brain that was never meant to be there, some mutation from birth that should have been cauterized but never detected. Something at the very center of my brain that wants out.
Even if it doesn't happen that often anymore, I've always wanted an answer as to why. Maybe they'll name the condition after me. Maybe they'll keep me tucked in some backroom laboratory for poking and prodding my brain.
I lost eight pounds, low-carb 16-8 fasting seems to be doing wonders, though I believe its water weight I'm currently losing and not actual fat. I'm embarassed to say my weight here, but its going down at a noticable rate. Had my first drink in two weeks, just a shot of whiskey because we had no gin available. I was never morbidly obese, but everyone could tell I was a bit heavier than some people. Its a self esteem issue, and a life issue, I would have joined the Navy a year or two ago if it weren't for the weight requirements, but now I'm considering not joining altogether due to the leadership and the state of the world. And, I'd imagine I would have more people talking to me and treating me like a normal person were it not for my weight. That, or I'm just offputting both physically and online. Its my fault, I don't initiate conversations and I've been told I have to, but I don't understand why its never the other way around; I want to be friends with this person, but they haven't talked to me, so do they not want to be friends with me? Its a dumb way of thinking and I've tried to shake it away from me, but I always have this bad thought where they'll say no and start antagonizing me, say no and spread rumors and gossip. Probably because numerous times in my life I've been yelled at, both by friends and family, for just being friendly to them, for talking, for just being there. And maybe I said something wrong at the wrong time, but they've never told me what I did was wrong, just yell at me and act like nothing even happened. T was horrible with this. I wish I never met her. She's most likely why my social instincts are so fucked up, she used me like some ragdoll, pulling out all the stuffing and pulling on my arms and legs to watch the stitches pop; then finally break free, broken and empty, having no idea what to do, everyone looking at me in pity, an oddity, a freak. I feel like such a bother when I attempt to engage with people, stuffing leaking out of my mouth, arms and legs and hanging on by a single thread, I feel like I'm wasting their time.
Maybe I can fix that. Maybe I was right all along and people just don't like me. I want to change. I want to be better. I want to have friends and people who care about me. But I don't know where or how to start.
I found myself in my home, hardly anything was amiss except for the fact that it seemed to extend into some sort of two-story home, one I was not familiar with. My mother and grandmother were present; I didn't see him but I could feel my brother's presence. Father was absent. I'm not sure how or when it started but there were a variety of trucks and vans surrounding the house. Mom was concerned and was calling Dad to see where he was but there was no answer, she resorted to calling 911. I grabbed an AR-15, which had its bolt open and charging handle loose like I was cleaning it with its bolt locked. For some reason the people around the house were stealing the wood from the wood shed. I called out to them with the AR in low-ready from the "upper floor", for some reason my perspective and where I physically was changed every time I looked in a different direction. One pulled out what I think was a MAC-10 and started shooting at the upper floor. I fell back and returned fire. There was some sort of panel that was raised up to the window which strobed blinding flashes of light. I took a prone position aiming my rifle at the kitchen, where they were breaking down the back door. Two people entered and I fired five shots. The report, the smell of sulfur reminding me of sparklers on the 4th of July, the recoil and the bruising in my shoulder, it all felt so real. They both went down, and for some reason it caused everyone else to scatter and run. The police arrived and for some reason found nothing wrong, not even the dead people in the kitchen. In the back yard I saw what looked like tents in the distance, but I didn't go out to investigate. The trucks surrounded the house again, along with the sounds of a warzone. Then, I woke up. I had the urge to make sure the gun safe was untouched.
You and I were circumstance, the definition of "star crossed", though you know I hate Shakespeare. It was like the gods were taunting both of us; me having no control over our distance, you with a disease that would claim you so young. Violently did I thrash at the thought of losing you, so loud did I cry when you went, and so tempting was the thought of breaking my promise to you, to not go the way you went. I still feel guilt not respecting your only other wish, your simple request, for me to find someone else before you died, or after the fact; going eight years and I think I'm unable to ever find anyone that would ever get me the way you ever would. You'd be 24 with me in a few months. Maybe things would have turned out better if the world was still blessed with you in it.
I don't know why I can't let you go, every day I lose more pieces of your puzzle, and a little less peace of mind. I forgot what your voice sounded like, how your english was still sloppy and you'd blow raspberries when you began to roll R's out of habit for your native tongue; how you'd whisper so gently when I had a bad day; how you'd laugh at a dumb joke I made that in hindsight was not funny in the slightest. I remember your hair was the brightest cyan, and the glasses on your nose would slowly roll off the bridge of your nose when you talked on and on about how your day went for them to unceremoniously flop onto your mouth, now parting into a smile even if it was a bad day for you. I don't know why I can't let you go, when all I could think about in class was someone actually happy to see me alive, someone that understood me and heard me out.
I could have never shouldered your burdens, but you shouldered mine. With anyone else I would have felt guilt, but with you I still feel grateful that you were once part of my life. I know you want me to move on. I know I need to move on. There are spells of days, weeks, sometimes a full month I don't think once about you, but you come back inside every now and then, and I can't do anything but shed a tear about how far I've gotten, and how long you've been gone. I'd have kissed your wet skin in the rain, our clothes soaking wet and muddied in the dirt; i'd count each and every freckle on your face, each scar you flayed onto your back and kiss them better, and you'd kiss mine the very same; We'd have built a life together, whether we were married or broke things off and stayed friends. I was naiive, and you knew things would have never turned into a happy ending, with the tumor slowly swelling into your Circle of Willis and closing off your cerebral artery. I don't blame you for not telling me sooner anymore. I've forgiven you for that a long time ago. I still try to forgive you for the way you went so suddenly, when your sister told me you killed yourself. Sometimes I get angry at that fact, sometimes I understand were you were coming from, but I haven't forgiven you.
Sometimes you visit me in my sleep. You haunt me in vivid nightmares; you'd slowly pull your mouth open and I could hear the sinew of your jaw tearing as you would harm yourself to such lengths, to then impale me on some pyre, your face close to mine as blood ran down both of our faces. Your fingers would rip the flesh off my body in tiny chunks, like a robin pulling bits of straw out for nesting. I know this isn't you, its me from eight years ago, holding a bottle of pills, wishing I went with you. Imagining that this is what you wanted for me, for me to give in the same way you had. Yet, I still continue to walk this tightrope between living and deciding to die, even though I've nobody else walking the line with me and probably never will, I know you're there to catch me when I fall into the styx. It is for this fact that I try to be happy whenever I can, I'm eternally grateful for your limited time on this earth and in my life.
With the way the world is now, I'm happy you didn't live to see it, you deserved better than this. I'm no better than you are, I have to stay here on this unsacred ground, hoping for the day you'll pull me out of here on angel wings. Then, I sigh, swallow, take a deep breath, and keep moving forward. Its what you told me to do. But sometimes, I see you when I wake up as a golden pool of light in the corner of my room. I can't see you as I remember you, but I know its you. And I wish you'd do the same thing you told me, and move on from me. Move on from this world. I don't deserve you as a guardian angel, and you do not deserve to linger in this realm watching over someone like me. We both have to forget. We both have to find a new adventure. Maybe one day we'll find eachother again in a new life. Maybe one day I'll find the dense woods your ashes were scattered in, and I'll inter my remains within your earth, our rot fertilizing lichenous children of our own.
I'll always love you.
I rarely dream, the times I do are extremely vivid or outright nightmares. I'm not sure about this being a nightmare, but its unnerved me all day.
I'm not clear on the details leading up to or preceding this event, but I was in a bathroom, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Then slowly the reflection changed, and the texture of my flesh was like that of a cantaloupe. The lines on my face crisscrossed over vastly expanding pores and I could feel every muscle tighten at the sight of it. It didn't hurt, but I could clearly feel each line bulge out like the veins of a foot on a hot day; like I was a medical curiosity on acne scarring, or some variant of leprocy that nobody knew how to treat or cure. And that's what I felt the most: Nothing. Nobody was there but the reflection, me, slowly shifting into some poorly made Freddy Kreuger cosplay. The absense of sound itself was also unnerving, I wasn't screaming at my reflection at all, I was... calm. Definitely not at peace, but calm. And, there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing but watch.
Then I woke up. I could only think about that all day.
I wish the house would stop settling I wish people would stop driving past the house, their destinations and intentions never known I wish the darkest shadows of the woods were defeated by the weak lights I shine through the twisting leaves in the dew-filled dark I wish I felt safe in my own home, even if the walls threaten to crush me I wish I had someone to rely on, I wish I had someone I wish I felt safe in my own home I wish I wasn't so afraid I wish I wasn't considered to be crazy or schizo for being so afraid I wish I felt anything else other than fear when I am only alone with my thoughts and whatever lurks out there, I know there's something inhuman whether physically or in thought waiting out there for me to drop my guard so it can enter into my home or my life and ruin everything
For most of my waking existence I've felt more like an observer rather than a doer, but I was still an oddity that needed to be observed. I hardly cared about most of my classmates. I'd be sad if they dropped dead, but if I never met them in the first place I wouldn't have been sad either. I never gave much of an answer when they asked why I didn't go to prom or the graduation ceremony. When my family asked. When my friends asked. Probably because I didn't know either. They did not seem like places I wanted to be at. I don't regret not going to them, but its an awful conversation to have when people start exchanging prom stories and then look at me, baring their teeth and their matte-red lips parted into an ugly smile, then to watch it all fall into a queer confustion when I simply reply that I didn't go.
Then, I get waterboarded with rancid water, while getting interrogated with:
Why not? Wow you didn't go to prom? but you're so cute! Dude what??? That was a once in a lifetime opportunity! Were you even a teen!? Bullshit! Weird, why didn't you go? Haha, I don't believe you! Come on, I know you're lying, it can't be that bad! You must be so boring! I had a blast! We got so shitfaced at prom! Did your school just not have one!?
It gets worse when I tell them I never went to any dance, or school activity, or even hang out with a friend. I didn't want to tell them the whole truth, that the only person to give my life some semblence of meaning was gone forever. That I was just going through the grieving process, even years after the fact; She was the sole reason I haven't killed myself. I give them no excuse, no story, no insight. Then like that they kind of just shuffle away from me. They all do. They whisper to the others, they scurry away from me too. Like not giving a shit about high school or college life is a carnal sin. I shouldn't be made to feel bad about it.
Then there's the difference between my brother and I. He's always got some friend over, or talking to people online; laughing, having a blast, living life. You hardly ever have to check up on him, the walls are thin, you already know how he is when you hear intermittent laughter erupt out of them. Me? Sometimes I'm checked up on out of fear something went wrong. Hardly a sound escapes here. I have not cried in years. I want to. But no sound escapes. The tears well, but they do not fall. And yet when the door cracks open afer its perpetual closure, I always have to say I'm good, before the seal closes, and the radons once again bounce off the walls. I don't really want people in here. When my family had a get-together the other week I had to stay in here to not get freaked out. I can only imagine what people were asking, embarassing them to have some bizarre freak of a son who can hardly exchange a few words, only sit and stare out the window.
I've had tabs on this for a while. A medical record I had when I was a child pinned me as depressed for saying that I didn't want to go to fucking Disneyland.
Even my own doctor was confused at the prospect of an 8 year old not wanting to go to some corporate cesspit, parents too. Nary I want to visit a theme park, a lodge or a casino; my father was stricken by that fact when he wanted to have margaritas and play slots with me, and I told him no. He thought I was sick, or I hated him. So I had to come up with the excuse I was sick to not go, because he couldn't grasp the fact that I'm not that kind of person. I don't understand why people won't allow me to just exist the way I want to, why they want me to be involved in their boring lives doing mundane things that I don't want. Then I get hated for not being so actively involved. Then my friends drift away because I don't use social media. Then I'm stuck on this peninsula. I don't understand. Nobody has explained the rules; was I supposed to do things their way? Did I lose the game? Please, show me the fucking GAME OVER page already.
Or was I not supposed to be part of the game to begin with? I'm not a pawn, nor a rook, nor bishop, not even the damn board, just one of the many blank squares across the playing field, forgettable, not even any of the center tiles. I'm tired of it. I know how I come off as some closed off prick. I wish I had someone to make an actual connection with, but the only people who have put their foot forward only ended up using me to make themselves feel better, discarding me like the spare sex toy they used me as; some broken machine that should have been RMA'd the moment I left the womb.
I just want to be normal. I'm strongly considering therapy again, but I'm afraid of the further scarring it'll leave on me if I'm suddenly labelled as a threat or a danger to other people because GOD FUCKING FORBID I DON'T LIKE SOME LAME ASS THEME PARK OR SOME GODDAMN DANCE WITH PEOPLE I HARDLY KNOW OR CARE ABOUT ACTING LIKE ITS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO THEM
I've been mulling over a lot of the past relationships I've had, more specifically the romantic ones if I can even call it that. They never really called me a "boyfriend", they already had one of their own, but I was more of just a side piece for them. Its hurt me longer than the joy has lasted. It might make me feel better to complain here. I won't refer to them by name, but I'll settle with initials for ease of writing. If anyone I know personally is reading this and knows who they are, well, IYKYK, just keep it to yourself. And if anyone thinks they're who I'm talking about, IYKYK.
I met "T" in 8th grade, she was two grades above me. She had a boyfriend who already graduated. For some reason she was infatuated with me, I can't exactly remember why either. We both attended a writer's club, every so often she'd meet me in the halls and hug me. Then, she would start passing me notes in between class. I still have all our notes we exchanged in a box I made in woodshop class, it still lingers with her scent of perfume. I've thought about burning the whole damn thing to be free of her for years, but I can't bring myself to. It was mostly a friendly thing to begin with, then she wanted to give me a "gift" outside school. She made me close my eyes, and then she took my first kiss. I was clearly excited and happy over the whole affair, but now I think about it in disgust. She kissed me without my consent, when I would have saved it for someone I care more about. That's when I was wrapped around her finger, like the fucking moron I was (and frankly still am) for a year and a half. She'd beg for sex like it was as common as asking what time it is. She had a "multiple personality disorder" which was basically just her pretending to be posessed by some OC she drew up in 20 minutes. I also faked my own, and we'd constantly have smut RP with them. Every other message she'd opine about how much she wanted me to ravish her, like it was the only thing she ever cared about, not even a "how was your day". Even though she had a boyfriend, and I was not spoken for, she would get extremely jealous of any other girl I was talking to, getting angry with me if I so much as glanced at another person. She also tried to force me to smoke marijuana with her when I wasn't interested in it at all. Again, hindsight is 20/20, I had very little dating experience and did not see the red flags. This went on throughout my 8th grade year, constant sex talk and how she would take my virginity.
And... she did, in ways I didn't want, in ways I didn't appreciate... she wasn't taking no for an answer. I was pretty much stuck at her house with no way to call my parents who were a 7 mile hike up and down a county road, and it was getting dark. It was my only option. All my life, at that point, everyone was going on and on about getting laid and losing their V-card, like it was some summit of a mountain meant to be dominated. It was something, like every boy in middle and high school, wanted. I chased after this high for so long, that when I let myself be vulnerable and let her take something that precious... there wasn't anything else I strived for. That was it. I lost something, and expected to gain from it. I asked myself, what now? Where do I go from here? And the finality of it all struck me; I gave both of the landmarks of my life to someone that didn't even care about me. That she only used me when she had difficulties with her actual boyfriend. I'd rather be a virgin now than have given it to her.
We don't talk anymore. Well, she tried to re-establish contact with me once back in 2019 after three years of zero messages or contacts. She basically just popped in to say she saw me on "suggested friends" and saw some dumb meme I posted and to say she liked it. I didn't even give her the pleasure of being left on 'read', because I just know she hit some rough patch with whatever boyfriend or girlfriend she had. I get scared of the possibility that I may run into her at town and she'll try to talk to me, get me to be her little pet again. But, like everyone else I knew, she's probably long gone off the peninsula. Probably has a kid now. Probably isn't even her partner's child either. Every so often I'll scroll back through the messages and get filled with disgust. I suppose the only thing I got out of it was experience in writing smut for commissions.
Take it all from me You've got everything Now let me be free My hands to feel, eyes to see Lips to kiss and heartstrings Take it all from me I beg you, let me be Away from me, you tightly cling; Now let me be free My fragile purity My own sense of thinking Take it all from me I cry out this plea No matter what you bring; Now let me be free Where did the time flee? The years do not count for your sting; You got everything Now let me be free
In 9th grade I had a brief fling with "D". D cared about me a little more about me than T did. We were friends in this little outcast friend group (Basically the middle of the Venn diagram of the Band Kids, the Goths, and the tabletop players) and we shared English and lunch together. One day we were sitting at the computers and we were pretty much just fooling around on them, tricking her with the "I closed out your tab but I just opened it up again how crazy is that" trick, then she suddenly said "If you don't stop I'll kiss you", I took it as a joke, then she did. For a month or so we'd hide near the band room and make out, then she pretty much just stopped it. I don't really hate her for any of this, she gave me a respite from T I didn't know I needed. She's married with a kid now, I wish her the best. But it still more or less made me feel like some piece of meat, only meant to sate someone else's desires with no regard to my own.
Then there's "S", the most recent one. It was 2020 and I fell into an art community, which is where I met her. We started off playing games, which then turned into a friendship. Like everyone did in the early 2020's we played Among Us almost nightly. She was also THE first beta-reader for my novel, if it gives you any indication of how friendly we were to eachother. During a conversation she brought up the fact she did sex work. I was cool with it so I mostly just brushed it off, then she brought it back up mentioning that I made no note of it. I obliged her, and it essentially led to us exchanging nudes and sexting. Only after that did she make it clear she had a boyfriend. I made it abundantly clear to her that it would have been no hard feelings if we had stopped things there, but she sort of just kept pursuing it. When she would suggest we stop, she'd start it back up again. One night she wanted me in a call while she was masturbating, and wanted me to just talk, because my voice apparently turned her on. I didn't want her to feel bad about this, and I don't, but sitting there just talking to myself while she would make some moan or gasp every now and then felt... wrong. I think the whole thing ended after a pretty lengthy argument between us about something dumb (was still 100% my fault) and it kind of peetered off from there. I keep thinking about sending her a DM every now and then, but I'm not sure if I want to resurrect the weirdness that came about from our 'relationship'. I don't really know how she's doing these days, she streams sometimes but I've mostly stopped contact with her. Which is fine, she kept badgering me about marketing my art on social media which I wasn't a fan of.
This really didn't make me feel any better. It just raises the question of "what the fuck was I thinking". I never really respected myself enough to say no to these people, because I was that lonely and desperate for some sort of connection. And at the end of the day its taken more out of me than what was given. I hardly ever open myself up to people anymore. And I want to. I really fucking want to. I just never know what they plan for me, if they want whats best for me or if they'll just use me like a disposable toy. Maybe this is what I deserve.
My friends keep saying I'll find "the one", their arm around their spouse grinning ear to ear. I've grown content with the fact I'll die alone, searching for it.
Went through the pack expiry report and had to remove a few items, namely the bagged oatmeal and a kodiak bar. Redid the expiry report, sans the medical supplies and catalogued the calories. Currently have 5,340 calories, or roughly 2 days worth of food, sitting in the bag. There's a few other loose carb-heavy snacks in there like the glucose shot blocks which I couldn't catalogue, so I'll round it up to 5,800. 2,400 of it expires in less than 6 months and that's the shitty emergency ration brick I grabbed off Amazon. Wish they didn't stop making/selling the cold weather mountainhouse rations, otherwise I'd grab more, they're very compact in there and take up less space and weight than that orange brick. I'll settle for the blue bags if there was a way to vacuum out the extra air/padding, but I suspect its nitrogen to keep it fresh.
Stuck the "admin slab" in the drybag for extra security, the maps are waterproof but it never hurts to have redundancies. Will be a bit awkward to fit the osprey in the hydration bladder pouch but it should be fine. May just have to get a spare carrier for it. Really should consider a new bag if my budget allows, I've loved the Jaakari M but I think I need to step up to the L or XL. Even with the added pouches there's a limit to 30L. I only managed to get the M because I expressed interest in hiking to mom and dad who paid for the bag. I'll make it work, but I need a smaller "doing" bag for more mobile excursions.
Powder situation is fine, could always use more, should hurry since there's talks of regulating that. Could always attempt to make my own, but from what I heard is a lengthy process.
With the hurricane that hit california and the record-breaking heat in several parts of the world, I have a pretty bad feeling about winter this year. Asshole neighbours that have access to the wellhouse moved out, during the past two or so winters they did not turn the well generator on to give us any water. Hope our next neighbours have some piece of grey matter attached to their spine. People were desperate last time this happened, and the snow lasted for over a week, power didn't come on until five days later.
Its over a year out until the next election cycle but I suspect things are going to be worse than they usually are. Jan 6 was not that awful but its certainly emboldened both sides no matter who wins. Can't say I'm not biased over the winner, but no matter what happens somebody is losing their rights or their way of life, and will be pissed the fuck off like every year this happens. And once the looting and rioting drains the cities, they'll look towards those outside the city limits. People like me. Civil war gets thrown around a lot, but with how often these "leaders" keep revoking rights from their opponents in some childish game its only a matter of time until people say enough is enough. It would be a welcome change, at least, I don't think we'll last as a country much longer under career politicians.
The very same career politicians who know they will profit from war and try to instigate it, mind you. There's been signs that we're ramping up for some conflict, either between China or Russia. Its pretty obvious the west coast has been paid off by either of the two considering their AWBs. If Idaho wasn't dry I'd move there, if Montana was friendly to people like my brother I'd move there. No, I'll stay and fight for Cascadia.
I only have my family to rely upon for any of these events. Dad's retarded, Mom and brother shy away from any sort of violence even if it was to save their own skin. Nobody openly expresses their preparedness, whether its because they bought into the lie that its for crazies or hiding it because they fear repercussions. I don't blame them either, I don't openly express anything like that in public. Those that do, namely boomers in their lifted F150 with the punisher skull sitting next to the family portrait of their guns in the rear window, are either feds or woefully underprepared. Everybody my age shys away from this sort of thing, they fell for the lie that they'll always be safe. They're not, and frankly I still don't feel very safe either. I've been called paranoid many times, and perhaps I am, but I at least feel a little better knowing I have something to fall back on when the world collapses.
Like every person who was a prodigy as a child and failed to meet expectations later in life, I've got brain worms that don't allow me to act like a normal human being. I barely talk to people and I barely go out to ever socialize, out of some deep rooted fear that I don't fully understand. And every month or so I have a deep episode of utter depression and hopelessness that will last for a week or even two. I'm afraid of getting medication, or even therapy, because red flag laws would bar me from owning and posessing several things which are conducive to my safety and security, and prohibit me from several paths of life I keep staring down. I'm not suicidal and I don't want to harm anyone without just cause, I just want to be happy and feel safe both at home and in public. I've hardly felt safe ever since my home was burglarized when I was seven or eight years old. They never caught the people who did it either. I lay awake at night sometimes whenever the house keeps settling or some asshole drives very slowly up the road with the bass on their sound system dialed to 110%, thinking this is the night I'll die. Its why I got into knives at an early age, and why I kept a sharp pencil in a pocket while at school or places I couldn't carry one. I was so ready to defend myself and others from harm, but I could hardly trust others because of it. I never knew their intentions, so I stayed away from them. I could hardly grasp social ques either; I've had some girls say that they were clearly and obviously flirting with me and took my misunderstanding as a "not interested". It was no secret even to me that I was "that" kid in school. I knew how they felt. Every time there was a shooting tragedy on the news, they treated me a little bit more like a human. Like they were afraid I would ever do the same thing. That hurt. A lot.
I'm in one of those episodes again, it always worries my mom and dad when I'm in them. But its a dick move when they ask me to smile for them, like my maligned mental processing inconveniences them. Everyone says your 20's are supposed to be a blast but I'm not really having one. Every other week one of my friends gets married, or gets a nice house, or some other accomplishment that I feel like I should have already done because of it. I don't really like to compare myself to others, but you and I know that sinking feeling that you really should be doing something when you look around and everyone else is doing it. What between parties, barhopping, or graduating from university. I always thought university was like buying an iPhone or a Mercedes, people do it for the name and not so much the actual degree or diploma, but I feel like I should have enrolled in a university instead of settling for college. And even then, higher education isn't exactly needed for my field, most jobs in IT simply require high school and a CompTIA certificate. But I still feel like I need a degree in something to feel like I even accomplished anything. I'm almost halfway through my 20's and I feel like I'm going to squander it like I did my teens.
