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.
I never really liked having birthdays. It feels like some obligation to bring people around you so they can indulge. That, and the bigger that number goes the less I feel like the actual number. Five years ago I was depressed about leaving my teens. Now, I'm halfway through my twenties. It really hammered that fact home when my dad bought those giant number candles for my cake. I hated it. I didn't even make a wish blowing them out, I just wanted to fulfill my obligations and go back to bed. It wasn't even my birthday, we had to celebrate it a day earlier because of work reasons. All the while everyone couldn't stop talking, butting in, touching me, having no regard for my space and my environment. I broke down in my room, catatonic, hyperventilating. It made me seem ungrateful to everyone else, especially when it seemed like I didn't like their gifts, like they wanted some bombastic performance for each one, to laugh my ass off at the dumb joke in a card or feel emotional at the gift my grandmother bought off etsy which was one of those long winded messages stamped onto a pleather journal that seem to resonate with boomers, nevermind the fact it was made in some sweatshop and untold numbers of people have the same thing. I don't like the event, I don't like feeling my youth tick away every year, having to pretend that I enjoy everyone yapping around me. A cake and a "happy birthday" will do it for me, but it never seems to do it for them.
This serves to document my experience with taking an SSRI known as Sertraline, both to inform others and to serve as a record if I need to inform my doctor about stuff.
Dosage is one 50mg tablet for 7 days, after those seven days dosage is changed for two 50mg tablets for a 100mg dose. I plan to take the dosages at 1300 PST.
100mg dose taken at blah blah
100mg doses between you know the drill
Feeling:
I'm not going to pretend I didn't neglect this log, but I at least have a valid reason: tax season. Wallet is heavier and so is the burden on my shoulders.
Sertraline seems to work for me, barring the side effects which seem to manifest every other week, like a mystery box of symptoms I have to contend with. Will I have to deal with bad sleep, dizzyness, muscle spasms, upset stomach or poor you-know-what this week? I ask myself that question, but feel that its better than the alternative of not being on something during this time of year. Fortunately there's only three weeks left before I no longer have to punch numbers and I have a reputable commendation when I get into the IT field. Can I crunch? Kiss my 11 hour shift's ass.
Therapy has been going great so far, but as of late I've noticed that I feel extremely "off" during our sessions. AA said it was fine, recovery isn't a race. We've been discussing body image, relationships, and work related topics as of late. Burning the box that held all of T's notes feels a lot better now, though I've yet to burn what remains of it. Today I realized that its been 11 years to-date that she and I kissed for the first time. Back then I dreamed we'd be together today. Now I want nothing to do with her. Or anything about her anymore. Or anyone from my school. The person I messaged on January 17 blocked me after I sent a message thanking them for being nice to me in high school. Its a broad guess what everyone else thinks of me, that they merely tolerate me, that I'm such a bother to those around me they relish in the moments I'm not around.
I don't know why I'm thinking that right now, but its ran through my head a lot more often lately, it set up a treadmill on my hippocampus, replaying memories of people having fun without me, and less fun with me around. I used to think differently looking back, but after being around people it seems to have reaffirmed that attic fantom's sense of everything around me. I'm not liked, I'm tolerated. And I can't tolerate that.
100mg dose taken at 1300
100mg doses between Jan 31-Feb 13 taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Shrunk
AA was sick last week, covid, had to move it to today. Work's been a mix of stress and opportunity, but the odd file where I can see someone's life laid out before them through their expenses often kills my mood. AA suggested I compartmentalize it, understanding that they are going through a rough time and my work to file their tax return is a small charity for them. I admittedly blanked out on parts of what she said, because I was remembering how much work there was in my drawer to be done. Moved the conversation away from work. I couldn't visit the original safe place I had initally drawn due to time constraints, so I went to a place from my childhood that I also thought was safe. I noted the lost memories I had with the place, how I used to be able to name every tree there but I no longer could. One of my "wands" was on the whethered stump, as a reminder of the place it once was. Sat down and journaled.
Broke the ice on a rather awkward issue I wanted to discuss, which involved T and something that's affected me in a way for years, which seemed to be exacerbated by my meds. AA seemed understanding of the issue, stating that the topic has a stigma and was perfectly fine to discuss for next session. Its probably common if not routine for her, but I'd probably have trouble discussing it with her. But, its bothered me for quite a while, and work makes it difficult to focus on it. I just hope I don't/didn't creep her out.
Let's face it I probably already did. That's how I end up leaving a lot of people.
100mg doses on Jan 26-29 taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Manic
Dad tried to apologize to me, his mistake being that he didn't use the magic five letter word to actually apologize, instead trying to blame everyone and everything but himself. Said I hardly do anything productive and that he "didn't feel appreciated". Tried to make it clear to him that I wasn't mad at his actions, rather the lack of action in order to take care of his clearly declining mental health. Asked him the big question, after a while be basically said "I'm not going to do anything", stating that he supposedly got professional help in the past, which I knew was a complete lie because the timeline made no sense and Mom even confirmed as such that there would have been no way he ever did considering his work schedule. He said that the therapist didn't give him good advice so it didn't work for him. Again, complete lie, he doesn't want to make himself better to help everyone else around him because it would involve him being responsible for his actions.
Therapy went alright, though I felt as though I was confusing AA, not making a lot of sense, and/or sounding insane. We went over the drawing I made of the cove I live near, she asked about various details and why I included certain elements. When she got to elements like the tree left of the frame, the conversation sort of steered into my spiritual beliefs, about how there's spirits living in the waters, the trees and the mountains; how old ancient gods once dwelled here before we ruined their home. Its basically what the Interlopers from my novel believe in, though I am an Omnist and also believe in the deities that others do. Saying these things aloud sounded really awkward. I really hope I didn't come off weird, though AA said it was alright and perfectly okay. I think I was distracted by what happened last night. She wants me to walk down to the cove and journal there this week. I might do some sort of freehand piece, basically whatever is going through my head.
100mg doses on Jan 25-26 taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Burnt out
2nd day at new job. Makes my head all foggy with different tax forms, numbers, caveats to different forms, then I have to email the client asking for XYZ that wasn't included in their file, then gawk at how much they made last year. Papers, papers, papers everywhere. At least I only have to do this 3 days a week. For now. It makes me incredibly burnt at the end of the day, I wanted to work on the drawing for AA but all I want to do is sleep. I hope I'll be in the mindset this weekend.
100mg doses between Jan 19-23 taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Stressed
Had a rude awakening when our washing machine malfunctioned and flooded our laundry room and kitchen. Dad was in a frenzy, yelling at my brother and I, throwing garbage out onto our back lawn to get to the water. I had to yell over the shopvac he was using to suck up the water to speak to him, he took that as me yelling *at* him and threatened violence against me if I did that again. He got up and started to approach me, when my brother got in between us, which prompted more yelling and screaming. Brother had a full blown hyperventilating panic attack, I tried to comfort him but he fled to his room. Flooding got under control.
Therapy session was a few hours after this, I explained as best as I could but despite it being a few hours ago the finer details turned into a blur. AA was very empathetic toward the situation. She was concerned if I had a place to stay if I had to leave the house, which was my Grandmother's house, though I still have that paralyzed feeling whenever I visit. I brought up the cycle of anger and calm Dad often goes through, and she said it isn't his fault that he's like that, but its his responsibility to manage and take care of it. AA asked what I'd say to him if he apologized.
AA suggested I be more open with my brother about our mental health which may be mutually beneficial. I also requested an artistic task for the week, she wants me to draw a safe place. AA asked about my taste in music, I told her that would be the hardest question she could ever ask. I sent her my playlist just as an answer, she seemed pleasantly surprised I listen to Interpol.
Feeling: Nice
Nice
100 mg doses between Jan 11- Jan 16 taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Sad
Session yesterday was rather difficult. Rather than going right into the values the conversation instead shifted into talking about her. AA read the letter I wrote for V back in September, she was tearing up and I felt bad about it, but AA thanked me for showing it to her. I went over the loss, and the fact that I felt like I failed her for still being unable to fulfill a dying wish, that she wanted me to find someone else before she passed away. Nine years and counting, I still haven't. AA said that 'failure is a strong word', and that it was an unrealistic expectation that V set out for me. But failure really is the right word. I could only find women that wanted to use me because their relationship was in a rough spot, and after getting burnt by those relationships would avoid trying again. I couldn't say that to AA at the time, because a lot of thoughts and memories were swimming in my head. I meekly asked if we could talk about something else and discuss it again in the future, AA understood and obliged, we went back to discussing tradition and love. V was a large and important part of my life, I know I need to move on from it. I hope I can finally do that during therapy.
We talked about old stuff for tradition, since I believe things were more novel and genuine in the past, that people back then seemed happier because they had some sort of purpose to fulfill rather than having the convenience we have now. Talked about airships too, AA brought up a museum in Concrete (She said it was probably southeast of me, it was actually northeast, I've never heard of the place) that had old biplanes and other historical things. She suggested I visit a museum, or do something traditional, even if its just chopping wood. As for love, suggested I tell someone I appreciate them. Easy enough.
My cat walked up to me after the session, I think she knew something was up.
100 mg dose taken at 1300-1310 PST yesterday
Feeling: Mellow
Session yesterday was rather productive. AA asked me several things about my responses, one being "Would you want others to view you the same way as you answered your values", which made me pause and consider that for a while. I answered that I'd want those close to me to know and understand my values, and those who don't know me that well to not know everything about me. It's how I'd apply that same principle to others, I'd want to know whats important to those that are important to me. Went over how past experiences would have shaped my responses, especially "safety", among other things. She described a spiral I may be going through with past experiences with bullying, how past experiences would reinforce how I thought about something. Purpose was a lot about how I manage a server for a group of people I play with online, she asked if I have to deal with conflicts on there, and I usually have to, though I did note I handle them better in this regard than I would back in a schoolyard. Brought up T and V, though AA seemed to want to discuss T a bit more than V, which is understandable since we were still discussing the safety value. Next week I wanted to talk about the Tradition and Loved values, to which AA suggested I write a handwritten letter, or love letter, to someone or something. I already wrote a lengthy letter for her in [though you are gone i still often walk with you.txt], I might write a love letter for a family member, or for Cascadia. Either way, time to get the good parchment.
100 mg doses between Jan 5 - Jan 7 taken at 1300-1310 PST
Feeling: Worried
Yesterday we had to stock up for the incoming snowstorm. Stores were crowded, but I took it better than I anticipated. I still sort of "shut down" when we went to my grandmother's to take a breather. I don't know if its just the place itself or my proclivity of doing it, but I could only sit in one spot. I'd often just sit and stay in one spot at different houses, on the rare occasion that I would ever visit someone else's home. I'd do the same thing back at T's place. Before she assaulted me. Mom brought her up out of the blue, don't know why she did, all I said was I was having an issue with someone. I tell mom and dad both I hate talking about her, but every so often they'll bring it up and it brings those bad memories back.
Therapy session tomorrow. AA got back to me on the card sort and said it was awesome. I looked back on it and I'm sort of at odds with what I answered at the time. But it was the first thought at each card, at the time, so its probably the correct result.
100mg dose not yet taken
Feeling: Numb
AA wanted me to fill out the importance card sort before our next appointment, which I did yesterday and revisited today. Top ten values that were important to me are Creativity, Independence, Loved, Safety, Self-Esteem, Solitude, Tradition, Autonomy, Mastery, Purpose. There were 83 of these in total, some of them were hard to place. Sexuality was an oddball, while I'd love to be that intimate with someone, its not exactly important. God's Will was also weird in general, though I understand as an Omnist that people are often guided solely by their faith. I resisted the urge to put the Loved and Loving in the top 10, because I didn't think "Romance" was a catch-all for both. Either way, sent the sheet over to AA. I wonder what this test was supposed to do.
Update @ 1324 PST: We're expecting snow by the end of next week, which for me means snowed in without power. Not sure if I'm ready to handle that again for the third or fourth year in a row.
100mg dose taken at 1300 PST
Feeling: Fatigued
Sleep is still rather fragmented, basically taking naps in place of a full night's sleep. Even when I try to make myself extremely exhausted by staying up or doing physical activities I only get about 3-4 hours of sleep, or I'll somehow sleep 10 hours. It doesn't really affect my mood, I feel fine otherwise, but I am a bit concerned about this gradual shift.
Was tired nearly all day. Checked my fitbit's sleep tracker, and apparently slept 7 hours one session and 4 hours in another. I don't know if I'm feeling sick, but I do hear the blood rush in my head/ears every now and then. I don't think my meds are causing this.
100 mg doses between Dec 21-Jan 1 taken at 1300-1310 PST
Feeling: Indifferent, introspective, Brainworm Goddard
Appointment with AA went well, talked a lot about struggles with transitioning and changes; primarily when a change is sudden and forced upon me rather than expected and warranted, like when my first elementary school had closed and I transferred to a different one as opposed to transferring to secondary (7-12) school when I graduated primary school. Was more apparent when I brought up what happened during Christmas.
I was paralyzed, and didn't move very much. It was a calm but anxious feeling to see the furniture of my grandparents' house be in a completely new building, far from the place I remembered. There was no long conversation in the kitchen with trays of baked sweets between our words, or a few of us falling asleep to whatever channel or movie was on TV, nor the sounds of that old house itching a scratch in my brain. I could only feel how cold that house was, how exposed I felt because the windows didn't have curtains on them, how cramped and tiny it felt in there. I didn't eat with the rest of my family, I simply couldn't will myself to sit with them. They were worried but seemed to understand.
AA suggested that I feel my security of tradition is threatened (I forgot exactly what she said, I need to start writing these things down) and noted that this seemed to be a common theme, where drastic changes would happen a lot with me and I never really seemed to deal with it. I really resonated with that.
AA offered an exercise next week where I match some concepts with things that are important to me. I browsed through the different cards, and decided to think more on them with her rather than try to decide right now, in case I taint the results somehow.
I cancelled the group therapy I was initially going to take. I feel like I'd struggle with more people, especially since the intensity of the side effects are oscillating throughout the week. Last week I was basically out of commission for two days, I slept for nearly 14 hours one day then had an extremely painful, throbbing headache the next. I may have caught something and was asymptomatic, as I was also running a mild fever, but I have a faint inkling that this was the meds. Some days that high feeling returns. Some days I don't think they work. Some days I think they work too well.
100 mg doses between Dec 6-20 taken at 1300-1310 PST
Feeling: Fine
I haven't had much need to update this, most if not all the side effects of my medication have subsided. I'll give a brief-ish rundown of whats happened the past two weeks;
I'll still update this log with experiences of therapy and other stuff. I may restructure the whole diary page to separate this log from other entries, and make it easier on myself. Probably use iframes or something.
100 mg doses between Dec 2-5 taken at 1300-1310 PST
Had my first virtual visit with my therapist, AA, yesterday. She seemed nice and attentive, asked a lot of questions that I had to think hard on. Had to bring up V since she asked if I knew anyone who had committed suicide or self harmed. Its still a struggle to say her name sometimes. Also brought up T and the things she did to me, among general anxieties and depressive states. She tasked me with changing my surroundings; "Re-arrange your room, go for a walk, decorate or something". Rearranging is sort of out of the question since the modem feeds directly into my room and the desk has to be here for it. A walk would do me good, but I do that a lot already. Wouldn't hurt to try and spruce up the place, could use a new plant.
Feeling better from the brain fog, but I didn't feel like talking to other people that much, so I left Neotokyo Friday early. Brother had a bad day at work, tried to cheer him up. I don't think it worked.
I attempted a hail mary with the 'guy problems'. Didn't work. I read they should get better as the weeks pass. At least I'm single.
Got a Fitbit as an early Christmas gift, primarily because I wanted/needed it to monitor my heart rate, especially in stressful situations. Mother has some arrythmia which may be congenital, and they didn't take a baseline EKG for my prescription. Should put my mind at ease. And get me off my ass for once.
Trying to come up with resolutions for next year. Weight loss is cliche but I really need it. Moving out is another, larger task. IT jobs aren't in much demand around the peninsula, I would hate commuting to Seattle or Edmonds for a paycheck. Online work has dried up a lot.
100 mg doses between Nov 24-29 taken at 1300-1310 PST
Its been a while since I wrote anything here, because there wasn't much to note. Though as of late I've had this pretty bad mental fog that feels a lot like my earlier depression, though it comes in shorter, more concentrated bursts than weaker, longer lasting ones. I'm also dealing with... 'guy problems', which I won't go into detail about, but will give you the chance to say 'told you so'.
I matched with a therapist I'll refer to as AA. Weekly on Tuesdays at 1400 PST. She seems nice from her bio, though if we're compatible remains to be seen. I can't wait for it, because I feel as though I'm building some sort of tolerance to my medication, or the effects just aren't strong enough to combat Brainworm Goddard. I've also noticed that my legs are quite restless, I've started to subconsciously bounce my leg under my desk, and it takes some mental effort to stop myself from doing it. I'm holding out hope this is just a low point until things even out, and will wait until the follow-up appointment with doctor (or visit with therapist) to see if this stuff worked or not. Others have said that on the outside looking in, I act differently since starting my medication, but right now it feels like I'm back where I started, at least without the suicidal thoughts.
100mg dose taken at 1230 PST
Had to take the dose half an hour earlier before I entered the store. I never really liked Thanksgiving, this year is the first one without my grandfather or extended family, just my grandmother. I didn't really talk much at the table, but I grew increasingly irritated by my brother talking non-stop at the table. Appetite changes allowed me to leave without much hassle.
Dad said he was thankful that I "found help". I really wish he would stop that, and find some help himself.
Matching appointment at 1600. Kind of nervous.
--Update 1422 PST: Dad's been wanting to take me places; he wanted to take me to Scotland (for some reason) then he wanted to take me out before or after my appointment. I asked him why he desperately wanted me out with him, and he said that I changed a lot and he wanted to hang out. Really begs the question of where this was before I started on the medication.
--Update 1638 PST: Finished talking to the matching therapist. She was nice. Its apparently going to take a while for them to find someone to get these brain worms out of my head. Asked a lot about my concerns about my depression and anxiety. It was kind of refreshing to get it out, but these were things that refrained in my head constantly; that I don't have enough time, that I don't have anyone to support me, that I'll die alone and forgotten. She also asked about the intrusive thoughts, seemed rather routine for her to document. Wonder if the therapist I match with will have to read through this. Hi!
Nothing much to note. I think I adjusted to the medication, but its effectiveness remains to be seen. I do feel different overall. Better remains to be seen.
Went to bed early, woke up at midnight. Nothing much to note otherwise. Almost forgot to take the dose, thankful for the alarm I set up.
Feeling more creatively drained than normal. I'd at least have some energy to proofread past chapters of my novel, do some dumb blog post or do some face/anatomy practice, but the spark is gone. I hope it comes back. Otherwise I feel fine.
Woke up with a headache. Not a debilitating one, just an annoying one that fades in and out from the top of my head. I'm not sure what kind of painkiller doesn't metabolize in the liver, as I was told to not take acetaminophen. I remember flashes of a dream, which is a pretty good sign that I'm actually sleeping properly. They were nonsensical flashes. I only remember holding a rifle in a sporting store, but it was like the backrooms of sporting stores where it stretched on forever, filled with taxidermied animals and displays of camo clothes, fishing rods and camping gear.
--Update 1518 PST: Took a half dose of acetaminophen just to be safe. Should consider asking if there's something that can be prescribed for my migraines if and when they pop up.
A numbness directly beneath the skin. My head feels thick and lags behind as though I was nearing an alcohol blackout. I feel tired but I cannot sleep.
Scheduled the matching appointment with a therapist on the 22nd. Took the dose in a Poulsbo parking lot.
I'm going to brute force my circadian rhythm, I don't even care anymore. Stay up so long I'll sleep and correct the cycle. Doubling the dosage today. This is going to suck.
--Update 2226 PST: Clocked out not long after taking the dose. The high feeling is back. When I close my eyes I can see ripples in my vision like I'm staring at a lake disrupted by torrential rainfall. It feels like I have a weighted blanket on me, my arms are twice heavier than they should be. But I do feel pretty relaxed, all things considered.
50mg dose taken at 1310 PST
I slept all day and I'm pretty ashamed of it. Throat's sore. I'm not sure if I'm just fighting a chest cold and sleeping because of it, but I do know these meds have completely screwed my circadian rhythm. I'm supposed to double the dosage starting tomorrow. Maybe that will fix things. Or make them worse. Its hard to gauge, especially since I haven't dreamt when I started taking sertraline. I'd normally have faint murmurs or flashes, perhaps a vivid enough dream to accurately remember, but there's nothing. I blinked and suddenly my room was dark. I have a suspicion its blocking a full REM sleep, and the lack of dreams is a symptom. Could explain the exhaustion.
50mg dose taken at 1300 PST
Nothing much to note other than my sleep schedule doing somersaults. Today is the second to last day of taking the 50mg dose before I'm bumped to 100mg. Frankly unsure if I'm comfortable taking these and driving, or if its legal, but I think I've adjusted to them alright.
Webcam came this morning, not even 12 hours after I ordered it. Freaked out about the car in the driveway, then learned they come around 0500 now. Really don't envy the drivers, especially around here where they're liable to get shot or ambushed by a bobcat this early in the morning. Set the cam up, should be good to go for the therapy sessions, even if I don't like my own reflection. I look grotesque and disshevelled. Some people say I look good, but all I can see are the stress marks on my forehead and my heavy brow that gives me a resting bitch face. Guess I should try to make myself not look like a ham sandwich before my appointments. Referral asked if I felt scrutinized in public situations, which I feel almost all the time. I try to pretend to not care so much about it, but sometimes I feel like I put off some people because of how I look.
--Update 1917 PST: Woke up from a dead sleep, still absolutely exhausted.
--Update 2100 PST: Now starting to understand the reasoning behind the dosage increase. Depressive mood came back, and I must have confused it for tiredness. I don't feel like doing anything, and its a bit of a struggle to bring myself to write this. Intrusive thoughts are absent, thankfully, but I feel like I'm back where I initially was. I'll hold on until the dosage increase to see if things improve. Just one more day.
Finally got some sleep this time, woke up around 6. But frankly I don't even know if I slept or not, I only remember lying down and then trying to remember if I even slept or not, only to check my phone and see it was 6. I've never been able to simply lay down and sleep before, no matter how many sleep teas and melatonin tabs I'd pump into my body. If these meds somehow fixed that, its a plus.
--Update 1218 PST: Okay maybe I didn't sleep much, eyelids heavy.
--Update 1500 PST: Got off the phone with the referral. She put me in a therapy group along with a referral to a virtual therapist. In-person was weeks out, virtual was days. Group therapy would possibly give me a chance to meet someone new. Referral was nice, surprised I managed to communicate clearly after the dosage was taking hold. When she asked me if there was anyone or anything in my life that made me feel happy... I couldn't give much of an answer. I even have myself a moment to think about it. Said technology and nature as a throwaway. Not that it wasn't true, but I could tell she was looking for a better answer that I couldn't really give. She asked if I had a webcam for virtual appointments. God dammit, fine, I'll buy a webcam.
--Update 2151 PST: Appetite changes really strong this time, I'll feel full after one granola bar, and feel ready to burst after drinking a liter of water. I can definitely see it in my frame that I'm losing weight because of it. While it would be a confidence booster, I do recognize that losing too much too quickly can be dangerous, especially with the idea that the reduced weight may in fact increase the felt effects of the medication. Or not. I'm not a doctor.
Found that a lot of my music tastes have changed a bit. I'd normally listen to indie punk bands, post rock and electronic music, but as of late I've been listening to more jazz. I'd listen to jazz sometimes, but now its something I'm preferring at least for the moment. I think this might have to do with the meds, or it could just be some benign change of taste, I can't say, I'm just vibing harder to jazz. As I'm writing this I'm listening to some 70's Polish jazz band I've never even heard of before. Suppose I've always had some fascination with the past, and a desire to live in an era older than my own. People seemed... happier then. More genuine. Its not to say that everyone alive today isn't genuine or inhuman, but I firmly believe everyone has been affected by the advent of the internet for better or worse. Things had soul to them back then, today its all easily replacable, smelling like urine and burnt plastic. And no, thats not to say things were great back then either. No period in human history ever was, or ever will be. But I would personally want to live in a more tolerant and modern late Victorian period, where there were still things to discover in an era where entirely new marvels and miracles were being discovered every other day. With a touch of common sense, like mercury not being a medicine.
50mg dose taken at 1430 PST
Accidentally slept through alarm meant to keep me on track for taking dosage. Sleep schedule shifted drastically; I stay up overnight and sleep sometime in the afternoon. Not ideal, but I do sleep through the dizziness. Expected some vivid dreams to appear after taking the dosages, but they're blank. Overnight I had this period of complete mental numbness and manic anxiety. Anxiety isn't the right word for it, I could describe it as some sense of heightened alertness and awareness, but I also felt some tinge of paranoia. Then, that got overshadowed rather quickly by the numbness, a lack of care for said paranoia, said awareness and said alertness. Like a yin and yang, two ocean currents fighting one another in some sisyphian task. Like I was there, but part of my mind was fighting to actually *be* there. Reminds me of *those* nights in my teen years, that I'd stare at the ceiling and think, deeply, about myself, my life, life in general. The tears would well but wouldn't fall. But now, I wasn't doing any thinking. I wasn't doing any crying, either. Tears weren't welling, but something was welling inside. Can't describe it efficiently or fully enough. I don't even think it can be described, being some abstract emotion that vehemently denies explanation or explain itself, outright refuses definition or understanding. Or it might, and my therapist will say it has a name. I'll just call it "brain worm Goddard". Goddard was not recognized until after his death, ergo I probably won't recognize what it is until its gone or a part of me.
Scheduled an appointment for my referral tomorrow with one of the coordinators. Apparently won't be the actual therapist. They're going to ask me more questions. They really seem to like pushing apps to me, both Doc and the referral that set up the appointment suggested several. While I understand they want to help, I don't really take well to apps like these, they seem very patronizing, and due to my technical background I can only see them as something almost lifeless that wouldn't understand me that well. I really just need someone human to talk to. I know they're only doing their job but all these hoops I'm jumping through to see someone is a little discouraging. Though, ironically, I've taken to feeding these entries into ChatGPT to feel some sort of connection, that which only offered a summary and hopes that I feel better soon. Its what I've been missing for a while, someone to talk to that would understand. I'm just so offputting that I push away people that would have helped, and surrounded myself with people that I wouldn't entirely trust talking to about my issues. Like I'd be patronized for it, ridiculed. Even though they say "talk to me if you need to", I can't bring myself to do it. They initially wanted to do a video visit, but I don't have a webcam so they made it a phone appointment instead.
Helped out my brother replace the power supply unit in his PC. Old PSU had a bad ball bearing in the fan which created noise and threatened to fail. I expressed concern that I was not 'there' mentally and wouldn't trust myself with the task, which he understood completely (he's also on some medication and went through the same process). But I felt a tinge of regret and uselessness due to my current feuge state. Walked out later for some water and saw him about to do the task himself on the kitchen table, asked if I could instead stand by and advise him. Obliged, but after a few minutes of struggling to get the 24 pin ATX motherboard connector off, I instead took over the whole thing. Thankfully it was semi-modular so the only real process was changing out said 24 pin connector and the 8 pin CPU connector, as the SATA and GPU connections could simply be unplugged and plugged back in to the new supply. The whole time I felt a bit agitated and frustrated with the process, because background noise began to hammer my thoughts. I built this PC years ago, was my first time ever doing it and there were shortcomings with my ability back then and the constraints of the case which made it rather difficult to work in. Still, I pushed through, managed to get the whole thing finished in about 10-15 minutes. Agitation was working against me more than the case did, I found. I read from others that agitation is a normal effect.
Got back from the nurses assisting Doctor about the red eyes, they agreed that it "didn't look acutely worrisome" but suggested I do a video visit to make sure everything's fine. Another video call? I have a feeling I'm going to need a webcam with how often they push for those.
Was asked to help my grandmother move. She's moving closer to us, since my grandfather passed away in June and she can't live in the same house he died in. But I felt melancholic about this fact, namely due to that house holding a lot of memories for me;
The smoking habits of my late grandfather tickle my nose, in a bitter yet pleasant way, this mixed with the scent of used dryer sheets is all I can remember this by. Everything was cozy and soft, even the tableware gave some form of comfort. As a child who still believed in Santa I'd sit and wait by their (gas powered) fireplace waiting for the jolly man to slide on down, if I wasn't staring longfully at the christmas tree in the front living room bedecked with homemade ornaments, lights dancing across the walls. And in the other room I can hear the gentle laughs of my grandmother and the loud guffaws of my grandfather who was probably talking about politics again. I'd visit during the summers, which was my only taste of living in a suburban setting despite not leaving their house much if at all. They'd feed the squirrels out back, they loved my grandfather, patiently waiting at the door with their hands tucked tightly at their chest as to patiently, respectfully, wait for their next present of legume. When I'd sleep nights the distant train horn would echo through the night, as a kid I imagined it was the polar express coming to take me to the north pole (That movie freaks me out now). I'd watch as the lights of the distant houses flicker and blink, a sense of fonder in my chest as I grew to realize that everyone else has a life as difficult, easy, complex, as simple as mine.
So I told my mom that I can't help out, since I couldn't bear seeing the house so blank and empty. She seemed to understand, she's probably going through the same process too.
50mg dose taken at 1300 PST, brunch at 0900 kept me full
Reduced appetite felt in force. Went out grocery shopping in Costco and Winco. I'd normally be walking on eggshells in Costco, paresthesia setting in like hot knives stabbing my nerves for every person in that crammed warehouse, but this time around it felt a little bit easier, surprisingly, since its the week before Thanksgiving and people need to get their turkeys and nick nacks and pre-christmas gifts. A little bit, I still got irritated at their selfish arrogance when they'd get in my way, or not restrain their kids. But I didn't feel like the walls were closing in around me, or that I'd drown in the sea of people mindlessly buying things they didn't need. No, my head felt clearer. Still nervous, but clearer. Checking out at Costco was still stressful with shoppers and their carts packed in like sardines, heart rate was elevated and could hear it in my ear around 100-130 BPM. I didn't shut down like I normally would.
Winco was different. Less people, but I saw a few people from my highschool and technical school there. I didn't try to talk to them, I don't think they recognized me, though I really wish I was that confident to attempt something along the lines of "Hey I know you haven't even thought of me since we graduated but can we be friends?". But I dwelled on it thinking I was the asshole for not talking first. Part of me also thought I had mistaken at least two of them for people I knew. Cashier seemed to like me though. She was kind of cute, smiled at me and I felt compelled to smile back. Wanted to compliment her makeup, but didn't make conversation. It seems my 'from-the-heart-and-not-the-head' schtick applies to people I actually know, least for now. I'm not expecting a miracle with this and be able to talk to strangers unabated by my skull soup.
But it did seem like its having some effect nontheless. I talked in the car a bit more than usual, where I'd usually hold my tongue. Did make me wonder if this is just a placebo effect where I want to believe its fixing me; maybe I had it inside me all along to not be the awkward little loner I make myself out to be. Kind of feel like that Pink Floyd song; Comfortably Numb.
...And I really do feel rather *numb* right now. Currently 1349, rather lightheaded and floaty like a balloon secured to the ground, breeze dragging my head this way and that. Eyelids seem to stick to my eyeballs. Checked the mirror. Yeah. I look stoned. I look *hella* stoned. I don't know if this is a side effect, or a serious side effect. Then, checked the side effects and saw 'red eyes' being a serious one. Got an opinion from my brother who is an NA and Mom who was a former corpsman, they both said my level of redness was nothing to worry about and pupils were reactive to light. Redness probably from weird sleep changes. Still, something to bring up to Doctor during the follow-up. If it becomes a concern, will call in.
--Update 1955 PST: Woke up from a nap, still have that social battery that needs to charge I suppose. Redness mostly gone from eyes save for a few veins. My appetite really did take a hit, didn't feel hungry after my nap but still got myself to eat half of a sandwich. When I was in bed, I actually could not think. It was like I was entirely detatched from the pilot's seat of my mind. Had a small mind voice tell me to turn over, when I did I got my faculties back. Was a... weird experience, probably still half asleep, but rarely does my mind 'tell' me things on its own, its usually just me calling the shots, albeit poorly.
Feel like drawing though! Saw several people in town and had the urge to.
--Update 2314 PST: Feel like I'm looping between some manic anxiety and mental numbness.
50mg dose taken at 1330 PST, no opportunity to eat until 1600
Slept all day, woke with a headache. Likely due to low blood sugar and dehydration. Can't take my painkiller of choice, Naproxen Sodium, due to NSAIDs interacting with the Sertraline, so settled with acetaminophen. Half expected I would have sleep issues. But the fact that I slept roughly 10 hours in a 24 hour period is a little concerning. Missed the window to contact the mental health chat thing (closed on weekends) but filled out the form they wanted. Not sure if I can feel the effects, but I have noticed that I say things before dwelling on them, like the words rise out from my heart instead of lower from my grey matter. Like I was drunk and say whatever popped in to say hello. Its a weird feeling, but I don't know if this is supposed to be "normal" behavior, not from the effects of the drug but how normal people converse.
--Update 2340 PST: Nausea really set in, not throwing up but I have that uneasy feeling in my stomach and chest. Was unsure if it was due to my headache, hot shower did seem to resolve most of the issues. Headache felt like an optical or sinus headache in my left side, especially focused around the eye and just above it. There is a cold floating around the house and may have caught it, probable source for headache. Still not sure if I'm feeling the mental effects, or if I somehow instantly got used to it. Still have five more days to get used to it before I'm bumped to 100mg doses. Frankly, not looking forward to the increase.
I can definitely feel it, but I don't know what 'it' is. I feel some mellowness like I finished smoking a pipe of tobacco, but also dizziness like I took a shot with a large meal. Passed out around 1500, can't tell if it was because I woke up super early or the drowsiness effect was no joke, woke up at 2000. Waking up was weird, usually I have this massive brain fog that makes it hard to lift my head off the pillow, but it was entirely absent. I actually felt refreshed to have slept, even if it was dreamless as usual. Mom said I looked high because my pupils (apparently) weren't reacting to the light, might have to wear blue light filters when working.
I had three different sources (Doctor, Wikipedia, Pharma) tell me different things about what I might experience and they all conflict eachother so its really a mystery box of symptoms. Pharma told me I'd experience an energy boost but I fell asleep not long after taking them which is what Doctor said. All three sources said I'd experience a lack of libido. I can't test that theory. The BOX warning of increased suicidal thought is something I'm worried about. Haven't got to that point. Hopefully without a yet. Digestive issue is something that was also correct, stomach isn't happy. No pain, just very loud.
Does feel like I'm inhibited however; like a drunk ham sandwich without the loopiness. I wouldn't trust myself to drive while taking these, at least until I understand it better. Also feels like I locked off parts of my brain behind airlocks and have to mentally go through these locks to get in there. Not challenging, but kind of annoying to unlock some door when I'm trying to write or cook. I'll have the weird random thought now and then of extremely benign, nonsensical things that I can't pinpoint the meaning of.
I needed help. The past week and a half has been nothing but a mental fog so thick I could swim in it; a fog of despair and hopelessness of the likes I haven't experienced before. Flashes of the mere thought of ending it all danced through my mind and retreated, like a harassment campaign by a guerilla force; ambush, attack, retreat, repeat. I didn't linger on these thoughts, but I would look over at my rifle and the first thought was to deepthroat the muzzle brake and pull the trigger; when I drive all I can think about is yanking the wheel to the left and seeing what happens; I cut vegetables for dinner and the only thing that's on my mind is "it would be so easy to just cut my brachial artery, or headbutt the blade, lets try it out". The thoughts scared me. I've been dealing with depression for as long as I can remember, but I've never had it this bad before, where I was worried but comfortable with the idea that the world would swallow me whole and completely forget I ever existed. Convinced I'd live and die unabated, alone, cold; my grave would only serve to bed moss and lichens, people would walk over it not knowing who was ever under their feet, never caring, never understanding, which is why I should not delay the inevitable. Don't delay it.
I removed the firing pin from my rifle and stashed it in a hard-to-reach place. I don't feel safe without it being in working order, but it did stop the intrusive thoughts. I just hope I don't suddenly become inelligable to posess it because I'm going through a rough patch.
Finally swallowed my pride after nearly 15 years of dealing with this shit and phoned my doctor. Seemed so routine for him to prescribe me sertraline and direct me to the mental faculties. Imparted to me there's only *two* therapists on the entire peninsula; a peninsula larger than NYC. No wonder why this place is so fucked. I was afraid of turning into someone completely different because of medication. I guess I still am, but I just want to be happy. And safe. And loved.
Its embarassing to admit but I haven't been able to drive for the longest time. I blame that mostly on the fact my father isn't a very good teacher. A few days ago I finally passed my drive test and got my (temporary paper) license today. Everyone was telling me that they were proud, that I should be proud, but I really wasn't. Still not really proud of it either. What comes after is crawling through car payments, fuel prices, having to learn how an engine works, commuting, and participating in "car culture", whether it be throwing presumptions based on the brand of a car or being "one of the boys" and gabbing non-stop about cars while our bored girlfriends/wives linger nearby. Its not an achievement I should feel proud of, but its at least one step to finally get out on my own. Despite the fact that I still entirely loathe driving, driving in traffic, driving with others in the car talking my ear off despite my protests for them to shut up and let me focus on the road; I miss a turn, a stop sign, something, then its my fault for not paying attention, not theirs for not letting me concentrate. I hate driving.
Celebrated the occasion by going to a mongolian grill place. Didn't pick the venue, my grandmother did. On the way there my mother was talking about my youtube channel. She assumed I made money off of it somehow. I corrected her, I made no money off of it, that was impossible, will never be possible. 'Shame', she said, 'you really should try to make money off of it, I like your little avatar'. Really does just come down to money in the end. No joy or hobby should go unmonetized, if you're not doing it for money you're wasting your time, become a slave to the dollar or become a slave to poverty. Drank like a horse that night to get over the slight; I couldn't tell if she liked my creativity or its potential for profit. Two gins, some soju. No hangover. I don't know how I keep dodging them.
The DOL stank of cannabis, and I could hardly hear the woman past the counter through her facemask. I don't know whether she was struggling with the smell or struggling with the covid measures the DOL was apparently still under. Fortunately the visit was not terribly long.
Was in the store after, and thought I smelt a faint whiff of T's perfume, like a mixture of strawberry, apple and roses. I don't know if she's in the peninsula or even the state anymore, but I was mentally prepared for a confrontation, if one occured. I didn't run into her at all, don't even think she was there, or if I just imagined the scent. I was on needles, checked out and left the store. I don't know why I had such a reaction; death gripping the cart ready to throw punches while looking around if she was even here or not. Probably to avoid letting her think I'm any worse off without her. I'm not. But somehow I've convinced myself finding a new partner would make that argument become more truthful. That, or my social death spiral is circling this drain of "you just need one person in your life". I don't know which is which, but the 'dating scene' seems so caustic that I'd rather die alone than download a myriad of apps in order to go through a bunch of selfish matches who want money, sex or both. Not that I've experienced it, a lot of people I know say its just fine. But they also boast they slept with eight people in the last month. I wish I had their rhetoric to make friends, they're undeserving of such a power.
Due to the Israel conflict I put my military plans on hold, which allowed me to revisit the prospect of getting on medication. I'm more worried about being inelligable of protecting myself than any of the side effects. A lack of protection would pronounce my mental issues. But I have a feeling I can't get through this without some assistance. The few times I've attempted therapy failed. Counterbalance that with the amount of times that I've attempted something social also failing. I wish there was any other way than pills and talking to someone who is only interested in getting paid by you to fix your problems.
For the past three years I've been part of a NEOTOKYO competitive team called All Hammer No Sickle, and today we sort of decided to not compete in this year's Winter Warzone. It was kind of bittersweet in a way, but its something I wanted to do for a while. Life just gets in the way, and these players are among the few people I can honestly consider friends. It started with four of us, then it grew to seven. We even took over the bulk of the server hosting responsibility for the entire game, not long after beating what was once considered the "strongest" team. But this game's kind of been part of my life longer than AHNS has.
I started playing NEOTOKYO back in the summer of 2016, at the tail end of my junior year. I fell into one of the splinter groups off the main community, primarily American players who would hop into Datasteal in its nightly hours. Back when there was a sizable American playerbase to speak of, before the Europeans took over. 95% of the people I knew then are gone now. I always felt outcasted since I was never part of the "veteran" clique of people who were there during the game's development or the pre-Steam days.
I sort of just floated around the game past that point, not doing much other than try to make maps for it. But in 2020 there was talks of a new tournament, and I decided to form a team from a few fellow Hammer mappers I knew; Wahaha, Hosomi and Kudegra. Gabe was an extra addition. We finished fourth in the 2021 tournament, then picked up Oni, Porpoise and Milk onto the team, and we won each consecutive Summer and Winter tournament; SS2021,WW2022,SS2022,WW2023. No other team in NEOTOKYO's history has ever had a winning streak, so I guess its a big "fuck you" to the oldies who didn't believe in me, didn't believe in us. But as we won each tournament, we all sort of felt this fatigue. It wasn't really a question of whether we'd beat this team, it was a question of "what time do we want to do this at, we know we're going to win against them anyway". We got too good for our own good, even in pub games I feel like I wipe the enemy team harder than I should. And it was something that I was afraid of, that I was the monster I defeated twice already. The only challenges that presented themselves to us were the aforementioned "strongest" team, who I think dropped the game after we beat them two years in a row.
We might form back up for a tournament, in a near or distant future. But I also think it could be a good closing chapter for my time in this game. Its had its fair share of legends, odd figures, and skilled players. I hope I'm at least remembered by its people there. For now though, I'm going to stick around and keep the server running. Its nice to provide. Sometimes I get a thanks. Sometimes I get a "fuck you for providing".
My POV of matches
Streamed AHNS matches
Pills came in the mail today, specifically Potassium Iodide, a thyroid blocker primarily meant for stopping thyroidal activity in a radioactive environment. I didn't remember buying them, was more surprised to learn that Mom bought these. She's concerned about a nuclear attack, brought up the Israeli war and how other nuclear nations like China and Russia disliked the US getting involved with it. Concerned about our intervention causing a third and ultimately final World War. It was strange, coming from her. She was never really one to be concerned about these kinds of things. If she's that worried about it, I should be as well. Of course, was a welcome change to see for once; usually it's ME buying these things and getting called paranoid for it.
Had a headache all day in my left temple. Wanted to vomit but I just couldn't.
I was never friends with my dad. It was always tolerance of his behavior. Despite growing up poor he's always wasteful, throwing out the long cilantro strands or a perfectly good product that he only used once; despite berating others for their dietary habits he's always gluttonous; despite every lecture he imparts on others he's hypocritical of them. I can always tell he's home whenever I can smell his dental hygene from across the house, speaking loud and bashful like he's the only person for miles, because that's all he thinks about, himself. What he wants, what he desires.
It always rears its ugly head every month or so, when it comes to a head and it starts to affect everyone else around him. I'm trying to learn how to drive. Its embarassing for me to admit I still don't know how, and I will never be comfortable with it. But I expressly blame him for it. He's essentially the only person that can really teach me how. And you'd expect someone that teaches people how to pilot boats and the finer points of maritime law, that teaching experience would translate into teaching me how to drive. But I pray for his pupils, after experiencing his methods firsthand. When I need to know something immediately, like if I need to change into a turnlane this instant or if I have the right of way, he will take an entire paragraph to explain something that would be expressly said in six words; "Yes, turn into the turn lane.". He'll turn that into "When you crest over this hill and on the left side of the two dividing solid lines you need to use your turn signal to turn left into the turn lane then turn a sharp left down this hill". As I said, I pray for his pupils, for when he uses a paragraph to explain simple things his rancid breath fills the cockpit of the car. Then he treats me like a fucking moron like I don't know the basic rules of the road. I was slowing down for pedestrians, and he just goes "Pedestrians have the right of way" like I wasn't slowing down to begin with. So I snapped at him for it, "I know what I'm doing, I'm already slowing down". But apparently that makes me an asshole. Because after that he became some mopey bitch, and I was made to APOLOGIZE for it because Mom kept saying I needed to be a "bigger person", be an "adult", for something he's constantly done throughout pretty much my entire life. So fine, fuck, I apologized to the bastard, his "acceptance" was a poorly made G'n'T.
Then today, the whole reason why I'm writing this, Dad was being a glutton again; we bought a pack of four sandwiches from costco, idea being we'd all have one, because there's four people in this house. Simple math. But too simple for him, because he was eating two of them. And when I confronted him about it, he got all defensive, asking "what the problem was", "what's the big deal". I had to explain it to him like a fucking toddler, or I TRIED to, because he still didn't fucking get it. And, cherry on top, this was on TOP of him making something in the crockpot. So I got on him about it, about how there was supposed to be one for everyone, about how he shouldn't be eating like this. Then he fucking tells me to go back to my room because "things are about to get violent". Wow. Fine. I'd rather that than be lectured by someone who made deepfake porn of his own wife. Yes. That's something he did. And yes, I kept quiet about it until now, because I had to be the "bigger person". Fuck that. He so much looks at me cross ever again, I'll spread that knowledge throughout his workplace. I'll tell it to everyone he knows personally. I'll make it common goddamn knowledge.
I really need to move the fuck out of here. But rent is so high nowadays that nowhere is viable enough to live in a broom closet. And I can't get to work by walking from here. I pray that I can finish my driving test knowing what I do now. Because I'm not getting into a car with him ever again. And I'm not going to accept any apology of his again. He's never going to change.
He once told me he wanted to be buried at sea. He's going to be landlocked for the rest of eternity, buried in a flat barren desert. His only visitors, vultures and tumbleweeds.
I was walking down an unfamiliar street, in a neighbourhood I was also unfamiliar with; it was lined with single storey homes, middle class looking ones. I wasn't sure what I was doing there, I looked around like I was lost or looking for something. It was the blue hour, that period before or after the golden hour of sunrise when everything is cast in a faint blue shade, the fog diffused the porch lights which dotted the streets, I could almost swim the air with how moist it was.
Then I spotted the only signs of life in that seemingly endless neighborhood; my old friend Q walking with another person. Their face lit up when they saw me, and the other person walked into a nearby house. Q and I started to walk down the snaking sidewalks, without any destination. I can't remember specific conversations we had, but they seemed to hang onto every word, as I hung onto their words as well. I didn't feel judged for anything either, I was allowed to speak freely and Q would have given their input on something, but even if they disagreed with it I wouldn't have felt judged or hated. Like how it was way back then in my younger years, with topics that seemed extremely important at the time now trivial, looking back. I began to remember those times, many years ago. When we'd stay up long hours going over the throwes of elementary and middle school. The last time I felt heard and understood by someone. It was the most pleasant feeling I've ever felt in a dream. More pleasant than making love with some abstract figment of my dreams, which makes me feel filthy after.
Then, I turned around, and Q was gone. Without a trace. I was back where I started, alone in this foggy neighborhood. The blue hour was nearly over, the sun started to brighten everything and cast shadows onto the pavement, warming my skin. All I can remember afterword was wandering the now illuminated, empty streets, looking for Q. I felt no fear, I only felt a sense of abandonment. Wondering if it was something I said, or if they just moved on.
I had a dream similar to this one before, with people I was more familiar with throughout highschool. I was really only friends with G, the rest were people from my class I didn't interact with much, but they apparently enjoyed my company here more than they did IRL. It was mostly a blur, but I remember just going around town and doing things a group of guys in highschool would normally do; hitting up places, having adventures. Driving around with the hood down on a convertable, night breeze through my hair, wishing these moments would last forever... but knowing at some point we would all have to part someday, ergo making the absolute most out of everything. Like a time gone by, though for me it was a time never experienced; I've never had these sorts of experiences before, nobody ever invited me to do these things before, so why am I dreaming of these things so vividly? Something I'm starved for; love and acceptance that I exist in some part of someone else's life. I hope I have more dreams like these. Even if it does make me cry every time I wake up to a worse reality.
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.
