I think I'm accidentally slipping into weekly updates again. Oh well. ♡

Last week, wasn't good. At all. I don't know what happened, but it just felt like I was spiraling. I still feel like I'm spiraling. I feel weak, I feel stressed, and I've been having anxiety attacks almost every night now. During the day, I feel restless, and I feel trapped. At night, I get calmer, but I feel weaker, and my thoughts run wilder. The only upside is that I've been sleeping more. Before I do, I still end up spending an hour in bed just thinking, though. I hate it.

My body feels weak, my head's always hurting now, and I feel like I could go to sleep at any moments. My body's heavy, and I feel tired all the time, even if I didn't do anything. I feel like I let down everyone I've ever known. I feel like I'm losing myself, and everything I knew about myself. I don't feel sure of anything, and I don't feel stable in anything. I feel like hiding, right now.

I guess this feeling isn't uncommon? It comes and goes, it's just been a while since I really felt it. I'm more used to apathy and emptiness, rather than this feeling of panic. I don't really know how to describe it, it just feels like someone's watching me. Like someone's stalking my every move, and laughing whenever I fail. I feel like very, very soon, I'm going to die. And it'll be violent, and no one will care.

I keep thinking about the future, and I'm terrified of it right now. I have a lot of thoughts about it, and a lot of them I don't feel stable enough to even write here. But, they're not good. I feel like it's only a matter of time until I lose everything. I don't know what there is to lose, but whatever it is, I don't want to lose it. I think I just, don't want to lose myself. Maybe I've already done that.

I just, feel like I'm losing something. I'm letting down someone, I'm missing out on something. Maybe it's life catching up to me, maybe it's the fact I've spent 20 years absorbed in the same problems and traumas as always. I wish I could be more than that. I've been told I can be, I just don't know how. I don't think I can. Maybe that's dramatic, but it's what I feel. I wish I could be normal, there are days when all I want to do is just scream. I don't know what I'd scream about, but I'd scream. Loud, and harsh.

I've been getting a little more irritable. Things annoy me more often, things worry me more often. I'm scared, and I'm sensitive, and I'm scared that I'm wrong for being sensitive. People have always said I was, that I was a burden for feelings things like hurt, or anger, or anxiety. I offend too easily, in both ways. Even writing in this diary doesn't feel right, I'm scared of sounding bitchy, or spiteful, or pretentious. I don't have a right to complain about things.

I don't really have much to write this time. I just felt like writing something. ♡

My mood keeps going back and forth. Sometimes, I feel good. Other times, I don't. I feel stressed, overwhelmed, and like something bad's about to happen. Things haven't been going the way I hoped they would go, and it's making me feel a little lost. But at the same time, I feel a bit indifferent to it. Maybe I'm just growing jaded.

I don't like feeling this sort of nothingness. When I know I'm in a slump, I at least know what's happening, and what I'm feeling. But when I feel like this, I don't know. I can't even say it's apathy, apathy would be more spiteful. I just feel like I'm here, but not. Maybe emptiness is healthier than sadness, but it doesn't really feel that way. It doesn't feel like anything.

Maybe I'm just tired. I've been thinking a lot, dealing with a lot, planning a lot. I think I just need to slow down a little. It feels like I'm moving too fast. I'm doing too much, and getting involved in too many things at once. Maybe I just need to stop fucking around.

I feel like this entry isn't long enough. It's not exciting enough, doesn't have enough moments where I'm falling apart. I know it doesn't have to be that way, I know I can just write whatever I want. It just makes me feel like I'm wasting my time, writing down things that don't really mean anything in particular. It's not like these feelings are because of anything specifically, I just feel this way. I think I'm just terrified of being a bad person, somehow.

I'll leave this entry here. I'm tired, and sleepy, and I don't wanna stay up right now. I probably will, but I don't want to. Oh well.

It's my birthday. And, I don't know how to feel about that. Usually, I hate this day. This year, I feel a little different about it. I don't know if it's better, but, it's different.

I'm 20 now. No longer a teenager, just a full, boring adult. I still don't really feel like an adult. I still have my problems, I still have my complexes. I still feel directionless sometimes, I still feel like I don't really know what I'm doing. And I feel like I'm missing something, something very important. I don't know what that thing is.

I can't say I liked being a teenager. A lot of things happened, a lot of bad things. I watched my family fall apart, I watched my life change, I watched all three of my dogs die. I got hurt, I hurt others, and I hurt myself. It wasn't stable, it was messy, and it was reckless. There was a lot of change, and not a lot of it was for the better. Most of it felt like it was for the worse. And I guess a part of me regrets that. I regret that it couldn't have been better, that I couldn't be normal. I regret that I won't be normal.

And I think I'll also miss who I was. I already do. I remember being a lot more innocent, when I was 15. I remember being a lot more open, being a lot more vulnerable, being a lot more hopeful. I was less of a bitch back then. And then, I just, got bitter as I got older.

But now I'm here, feeling not as bitter as I thought I'd be today. Funny how things work out like that. I don't really know how to describe it. I'm just, not as reluctant to turn 20 as I thought I would be. I feel like it's okay for me to turn 20, even if I don't feel 20. Even if I don't know what I'm doing, even if I'm still in the same slump I'm always in, I think I'm okay with turning 20. It's just really weird.

I don't think I'm hopeful for the future, I'm not. I know I'll still wake up tomorrow, and feel that same emptiness I always do. I know there are tons of days ahead, where I'll feel worse than I do now. I'll cry a lot, I'll shut down like I always do, I'll cut myself, I'll scar myself, I'll attempt who knows how many times. I'll write hundreds more entries here, and all of them will be about the same feelings, using the same descriptions. But right now, I feel a little bit removed from that. I feel a little lighter. Not happy, and not satisfied. But, definitely a little more tolerant of how things go. I'm 20 years-old, and that's okay. I think.

Being a teenager wasn't all bad. I found comfort in things. I got into hobbies, I found media I could relate to, I became more aware of the world around me, I listened to music that made me feel seen. And I started this website. Maybe it's edgy, or self-indulgent, but it gives me something. It gives me somewhere where I can be myself, even if it's just for a little while. It gives me somewhere I feel I can belong. And as much as I hate running this site sometimes, I can't say I don't love running it either. Maybe I'm just a masochist or something. I mean, I probably am, but like, that's not the point here.

I feel a little overdramatic, writing this entry. Most people just feel happy about their birthday. I don't. I'm not doing anything special today, nothing interesting. Just, doing the usual. But I feel unusual. I don't feel like it's my birthday, but I don't feel like it's a normal day either. I just, feel like today's a day where I can rest. A day where, maybe I can smile. Even if it's a poor attempt at one, and even if it won't last long.

I still feel regrets. I regret never having a family, I regret watching the illusion of it crumble in front of me. I regret not having more time with my dogs, I wish I could've held them just a little bit longer. I regret getting into relationships I shouldn't have been in, and I regret letting down the people who saw something like that in me. I regret lashing out at people, I regret growing colder, and more spiteful. I regret holding myself back, and I regret pressuring myself. I regret not being able to fix things with my mother. I regret not fixing myself. I have a lot of regrets.

But, it feels like they don't matter right now. It feels like they're just, in the distance. And in a way, that's a bit scary. I'll have to deal with those regrets eventually, and when I do, I doubt I'll do well. But, right now, I can just put them aside. I feel like I can rest today. I don't get that luxury a lot.

I guess it's kinda fitting, too. This past week has been a bit stressful. I feel overworked, I feel out of place, and I feel like things just aren't happening the way I want them to. I feel like I've lost control of myself. I don't feel like I've gained that control back. I don't know if I ever will. But, I feel like I can at least slow down, today. And a part of me still feels almost ashamed, to be typing this, or writing this. Again, I'm sure this reads a bit melodramatic. But, it's how I feel. It's what I feel today.

I just feel like laying everything down, like going inside my head, and just shutting everything off. I feel like crawling back into bed, holding my pillow to my chest, and crying myself to sleep. And I feel like going out, taking a walk, and just idly sitting at a park bench for hours. I don't feel good today. But, I don't feel bad. I just feel a lot.

It almost feels like a part of me has died. And, I'm sad to say goodbye to that part of myself. But I'm not that sad. That part of me did what it had to do. The part of me writing this lived. I don't think it wanted to, but it did.

I don't really know what else to write right now. I'm just a little tired, to be honest. A little scared, a little sad. But, also a little relaxed. I also still feel a little stupid, getting this dramatic over a fucking number. But, that's just the kinda bitch I am. ♡

I'm gonna go take a nap now. Thank you.

I don't really know how to start this entry. I'm back, I guess. ♡

Not too much has happened, since that last entry. Just, me mourning, I think. I went a few days without eating, and I spent a few days just sleeping through most of the day. I don't know, I just, wasn't doing well. I still have a lot of thoughts about everything that happened, a lot of thoughts that I won't write down. I'm getting through it, the feeling's not as bad as when it started. It just, still doesn't really feel good, either. I'll get through it.

I should probably just talk about the obvious by now. I deleted my old site URL. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, I guess. I'm not really sure how to talk about it, it was just the culmination of a lot of things at once.

Sometimes, I felt like my site was just slipping away from me. Like it wasn't mine anymore, just something saw as eye-candy, rather than a diary. I've written about it before, people just seeing this site as something pretty to look at. It got worse, after I posted that last entry. I was getting a lot of views at the same time, and it just made me feel really strange, and isolated. Some people were respectful, but it still felt a little isolating, watching my site blow up while I was mourning. It made me feel alone. I know it's unreasonable to expect everyone who sees your site to treat it like a part of you, but it still hurts when people don't. There's a reason these things are called 'personal' websites.

I think what broke me was this really angry hate comment I got. tl;dr, it's just someone saying my writing's bad, accusing me of being pretentious, and shaming me for mourning. It just felt like confirmation of what I already knew existed, I guess. People who see my site as nothing but content to look at, or in this case, get really mad at. Didn't help that after I deleted it, I got a comment from someone 'defending' them. All they did was just call me 'close-minded', and said my site had 'no substance'. They also closed it out with an honestly kind of sexist joke about young girls, so that was nice.

In hindsight, I guess it's a little petty to delete your entire website over some mean comments, but it just wasn't what I needed to hear. The last thing I needed was someone calling me arrogant, or an embarrassment, just for expressing myself in a way they didn't like. The last thing I needed was someone saying my own grief was 'meaningless'. Wasn't like that was the only time someone told me that to my face recently, anyway.

I remember I spoke to my father, not too long after that last entry. I tried to talk to him about what happened, about my mother dying. I wasn't able to. I told him I wasn't feeling well, and before I could even tell him why, he started tearing into me. He told me he was in more emotional distress about something else, and told me to shut up. He told me anything I felt was inherently inferior to anything he felt. It just, wasn't what I needed to hear. I just kept silent after that. Spent the rest of the day sleeping, and crying. I still haven't told him what happened to my mother. Honestly, he doesn't deserve to know.

I guess I just believed them both, really. That my feelings didn't matter. That I was arrogant for crying, that I was some kind of emotional leech for trying to vent in any capacity. That I'm wrong for even mourning. Even now, I feel self-conscious even writing this, let alone bringing this site back. Am I pretentious? Am I arrogant? I don't know. I don't like myself, I always try to put other people before me. I've taken beatings I didn't have to because I thought it was right, I've let exes use me as a sex object because I didn't know what else to do, I've let people walk all over me because I thought they were my friends. But, a lot of people have said it. That I'm just a stuck-up bitch. After a while, you start to believe them. Besides, my poetry always has been pretty self-indulgent anyway. They were kinda right there.

So, I broke. And I deleted my website. Initially, it was going to be permanent. I figured it didn't mean anything anymore. I actually attempted, the day before I deleted it. I suppose getting rid of the site was the next best thing.

But, then I get started getting e-mails asking about what happened. And, it's a little sappy to admit, but it started to change my mind, I guess. I got a lot of messages asking if I was okay, asking if I was even alive. I got a lot of people thanking me for writing here, for giving them something to relate to, and take comfort in. It wasn't too surprising, I figured it would shock people if I just disappeared one day. But, I think it also ended up being what I needed to hear, still.

It was just nice, knowing that people valued what I put here. Knowing that even if I didn't value it myself, and even if a lot of people didn't value it either, there were people who did. I feel a little guilty honestly, having to be reminded that people find meaning in what I write. That people find it beautiful, beyond it's looks.

So, I decided I'd just be taking a break. I didn't want my site to disappear, I didn't want to take away that meaning from anyone. Maybe that's a little cliche, but, it's nice to know people care about you. It's nice to feel that you belong somewhere.

And now I'm here, crying at something that's probably really immature. I don't know, I just, needed that break. I needed to remember why I loved my site, and I needed to remember that other people love it too. Maybe to some people, this will always just be a shiny exterior. And maybe to some people, I'll always just be a failure, an embarrassment, some edgy bitch who's not even worth listening to. But, it's nice knowing that even a few people think otherwise.

I'm sorry if this entry sounded whiny, or pretentious. I'm sorry if this situation seems petty, or stupid. But, to everyone who supported me through this, thank you. It really means the world to me. It makes me feel just a little bit lighter. Thank you.

My eyes hurt from crying right now. It's good to be back.

I think I'm accidentally slipping into weekly updates again. Oh well. ♡

Last week, wasn't good. At all. I don't know what happened, but it just felt like I was spiraling. I still feel like I'm spiraling. I feel weak, I feel stressed, and I've been having anxiety attacks almost every night now. During the day, I feel restless, and I feel trapped. At night, I get calmer, but I feel weaker, and my thoughts run wilder. The only upside is that I've been sleeping more. Before I do, I still end up spending an hour in bed just thinking, though. I hate it.

My body feels weak, my head's always hurting now, and I feel like I could go to sleep at any moments. My body's heavy, and I feel tired all the time, even if I didn't do anything. I feel like I let down everyone I've ever known. I feel like I'm losing myself, and everything I knew about myself. I don't feel sure of anything, and I don't feel stable in anything. I feel like hiding, right now.

I guess this feeling isn't uncommon? It comes and goes, it's just been a while since I really felt it. I'm more used to apathy and emptiness, rather than this feeling of panic. I don't really know how to describe it, it just feels like someone's watching me. Like someone's stalking my every move, and laughing whenever I fail. I feel like very, very soon, I'm going to die. And it'll be violent, and no one will care.

I keep thinking about the future, and I'm terrified of it right now. I have a lot of thoughts about it, and a lot of them I don't feel stable enough to even write here. But, they're not good. I feel like it's only a matter of time until I lose everything. I don't know what there is to lose, but whatever it is, I don't want to lose it. I think I just, don't want to lose myself. Maybe I've already done that.

I just, feel like I'm losing something. I'm letting down someone, I'm missing out on something. Maybe it's life catching up to me, maybe it's the fact I've spent 20 years absorbed in the same problems and traumas as always. I wish I could be more than that. I've been told I can be, I just don't know how. I don't think I can. Maybe that's dramatic, but it's what I feel. I wish I could be normal, there are days when all I want to do is just scream. I don't know what I'd scream about, but I'd scream. Loud, and harsh.

I've been getting a little more irritable. Things annoy me more often, things worry me more often. I'm scared, and I'm sensitive, and I'm scared that I'm wrong for being sensitive. People have always said I was, that I was a burden for feelings things like hurt, or anger, or anxiety. I offend too easily, in both ways. Even writing in this diary doesn't feel right, I'm scared of sounding bitchy, or spiteful, or pretentious. I don't have a right to complain about things.

I don't really have much to write this time. I just felt like writing something. ♡

My mood keeps going back and forth. Sometimes, I feel good. Other times, I don't. I feel stressed, overwhelmed, and like something bad's about to happen. Things haven't been going the way I hoped they would go, and it's making me feel a little lost. But at the same time, I feel a bit indifferent to it. Maybe I'm just growing jaded.

I don't like feeling this sort of nothingness. When I know I'm in a slump, I at least know what's happening, and what I'm feeling. But when I feel like this, I don't know. I can't even say it's apathy, apathy would be more spiteful. I just feel like I'm here, but not. Maybe emptiness is healthier than sadness, but it doesn't really feel that way. It doesn't feel like anything.

Maybe I'm just tired. I've been thinking a lot, dealing with a lot, planning a lot. I think I just need to slow down a little. It feels like I'm moving too fast. I'm doing too much, and getting involved in too many things at once. Maybe I just need to stop fucking around.

I feel like this entry isn't long enough. It's not exciting enough, doesn't have enough moments where I'm falling apart. I know it doesn't have to be that way, I know I can just write whatever I want. It just makes me feel like I'm wasting my time, writing down things that don't really mean anything in particular. It's not like these feelings are because of anything specifically, I just feel this way. I think I'm just terrified of being a bad person, somehow.

I'll leave this entry here. I'm tired, and sleepy, and I don't wanna stay up right now. I probably will, but I don't want to. Oh well.

It's my birthday. And, I don't know how to feel about that. Usually, I hate this day. This year, I feel a little different about it. I don't know if it's better, but, it's different.

I'm 20 now. No longer a teenager, just a full, boring adult. I still don't really feel like an adult. I still have my problems, I still have my complexes. I still feel directionless sometimes, I still feel like I don't really know what I'm doing. And I feel like I'm missing something, something very important. I don't know what that thing is.

I can't say I liked being a teenager. A lot of things happened, a lot of bad things. I watched my family fall apart, I watched my life change, I watched all three of my dogs die. I got hurt, I hurt others, and I hurt myself. It wasn't stable, it was messy, and it was reckless. There was a lot of change, and not a lot of it was for the better. Most of it felt like it was for the worse. And I guess a part of me regrets that. I regret that it couldn't have been better, that I couldn't be normal. I regret that I won't be normal.

And I think I'll also miss who I was. I already do. I remember being a lot more innocent, when I was 15. I remember being a lot more open, being a lot more vulnerable, being a lot more hopeful. I was less of a bitch back then. And then, I just, got bitter as I got older.

But now I'm here, feeling not as bitter as I thought I'd be today. Funny how things work out like that. I don't really know how to describe it. I'm just, not as reluctant to turn 20 as I thought I would be. I feel like it's okay for me to turn 20, even if I don't feel 20. Even if I don't know what I'm doing, even if I'm still in the same slump I'm always in, I think I'm okay with turning 20. It's just really weird.

I don't think I'm hopeful for the future, I'm not. I know I'll still wake up tomorrow, and feel that same emptiness I always do. I know there are tons of days ahead, where I'll feel worse than I do now. I'll cry a lot, I'll shut down like I always do, I'll cut myself, I'll scar myself, I'll attempt who knows how many times. I'll write hundreds more entries here, and all of them will be about the same feelings, using the same descriptions. But right now, I feel a little bit removed from that. I feel a little lighter. Not happy, and not satisfied. But, definitely a little more tolerant of how things go. I'm 20 years-old, and that's okay. I think.

Being a teenager wasn't all bad. I found comfort in things. I got into hobbies, I found media I could relate to, I became more aware of the world around me, I listened to music that made me feel seen. And I started this website. Maybe it's edgy, or self-indulgent, but it gives me something. It gives me somewhere where I can be myself, even if it's just for a little while. It gives me somewhere I feel I can belong. And as much as I hate running this site sometimes, I can't say I don't love running it either. Maybe I'm just a masochist or something. I mean, I probably am, but like, that's not the point here.

I feel a little overdramatic, writing this entry. Most people just feel happy about their birthday. I don't. I'm not doing anything special today, nothing interesting. Just, doing the usual. But I feel unusual. I don't feel like it's my birthday, but I don't feel like it's a normal day either. I just, feel like today's a day where I can rest. A day where, maybe I can smile. Even if it's a poor attempt at one, and even if it won't last long.

I still feel regrets. I regret never having a family, I regret watching the illusion of it crumble in front of me. I regret not having more time with my dogs, I wish I could've held them just a little bit longer. I regret getting into relationships I shouldn't have been in, and I regret letting down the people who saw something like that in me. I regret lashing out at people, I regret growing colder, and more spiteful. I regret holding myself back, and I regret pressuring myself. I regret not being able to fix things with my mother. I regret not fixing myself. I have a lot of regrets.

But, it feels like they don't matter right now. It feels like they're just, in the distance. And in a way, that's a bit scary. I'll have to deal with those regrets eventually, and when I do, I doubt I'll do well. But, right now, I can just put them aside. I feel like I can rest today. I don't get that luxury a lot.

I guess it's kinda fitting, too. This past week has been a bit stressful. I feel overworked, I feel out of place, and I feel like things just aren't happening the way I want them to. I feel like I've lost control of myself. I don't feel like I've gained that control back. I don't know if I ever will. But, I feel like I can at least slow down, today. And a part of me still feels almost ashamed, to be typing this, or writing this. Again, I'm sure this reads a bit melodramatic. But, it's how I feel. It's what I feel today.

I just feel like laying everything down, like going inside my head, and just shutting everything off. I feel like crawling back into bed, holding my pillow to my chest, and crying myself to sleep. And I feel like going out, taking a walk, and just idly sitting at a park bench for hours. I don't feel good today. But, I don't feel bad. I just feel a lot.

It almost feels like a part of me has died. And, I'm sad to say goodbye to that part of myself. But I'm not that sad. That part of me did what it had to do. The part of me writing this lived. I don't think it wanted to, but it did.

I don't really know what else to write right now. I'm just a little tired, to be honest. A little scared, a little sad. But, also a little relaxed. I also still feel a little stupid, getting this dramatic over a fucking number. But, that's just the kinda bitch I am. ♡

I'm gonna go take a nap now. Thank you.

I don't really know how to start this entry. I'm back, I guess. ♡

Not too much has happened, since that last entry. Just, me mourning, I think. I went a few days without eating, and I spent a few days just sleeping through most of the day. I don't know, I just, wasn't doing well. I still have a lot of thoughts about everything that happened, a lot of thoughts that I won't write down. I'm getting through it, the feeling's not as bad as when it started. It just, still doesn't really feel good, either. I'll get through it.

I should probably just talk about the obvious by now. I deleted my old site URL. It was kind of a spur of the moment thing, I guess. I'm not really sure how to talk about it, it was just the culmination of a lot of things at once.

Sometimes, I felt like my site was just slipping away from me. Like it wasn't mine anymore, just something saw as eye-candy, rather than a diary. I've written about it before, people just seeing this site as something pretty to look at. It got worse, after I posted that last entry. I was getting a lot of views at the same time, and it just made me feel really strange, and isolated. Some people were respectful, but it still felt a little isolating, watching my site blow up while I was mourning. It made me feel alone. I know it's unreasonable to expect everyone who sees your site to treat it like a part of you, but it still hurts when people don't. There's a reason these things are called 'personal' websites.

I think what broke me was this really angry hate comment I got. tl;dr, it's just someone saying my writing's bad, accusing me of being pretentious, and shaming me for mourning. It just felt like confirmation of what I already knew existed, I guess. People who see my site as nothing but content to look at, or in this case, get really mad at. Didn't help that after I deleted it, I got a comment from someone 'defending' them. All they did was just call me 'close-minded', and said my site had 'no substance'. They also closed it out with an honestly kind of sexist joke about young girls, so that was nice.

In hindsight, I guess it's a little petty to delete your entire website over some mean comments, but it just wasn't what I needed to hear. The last thing I needed was someone calling me arrogant, or an embarrassment, just for expressing myself in a way they didn't like. The last thing I needed was someone saying my own grief was 'meaningless'. Wasn't like that was the only time someone told me to my face recently, anyway.

I remember I spoke to my father, not too long after that last entry. I tried to talk to him about what happened, about my mother dying. I wasn't able to. I told him I wasn't feeling well, and before I could even tell him why, he started tearing into me. He told me he was in more emotional distress about something else, and told me to shut up. He told me anything I felt was inherently inferior to anything he felt. It just, wasn't what I needed to hear. I just kept silent after that. Spent the rest of the day sleeping, and crying. I still haven't told him what happened to my mother. Honestly, he doesn't deserve to know.

I guess I just believed them both, really. That my feelings didn't matter. That I was arrogant for crying, that I was some kind of emotional leech for trying to vent in any capacity. That I'm wrong for mourning. Even now, I feel self-conscious even writing this, let alone bringing this site back. Am I pretentious? Am I arrogant? I don't know. I don't like myself, I always try to put other people before me. I've taken beatings I didn't have to because I thought it was right, I've let exes use me as a sex object because I didn't know what else to do, I've let people walk all over me because I thought they were my friends. But, a lot of people have said it. That I'm just a stuck-up bitch. After a while, you start to believe them. Besides, my poetry always has been pretty self-indulgent anyway. They were kinda right there.

So, I broke. And I deleted my website. Initially, it was going to be permanent. I figured it didn't mean anything anymore. I actually attempted, the day before I deleted it. I suppose getting rid of the site was the next best thing.

But, then I get started getting e-mails asking about what happened. And, it's a little sappy to admit, but it started to change my mind, I guess. I got a lot of messages asking if I was okay, asking if I was even alive. I got a lot of people thanking me for writing here, for giving them something to relate to, and take comfort in. It wasn't too surprising, I figured it would shock people if I just disappeared one day. But, I think it also ended up being what I needed to hear, still.

It was just nice, knowing that people valued what I put here. Knowing that even if I didn't value it myself, and even if a lot of people didn't value it either, there were people who did. I feel a little guilty honestly, having to be reminded that people find meaning in what I write. That people find it beautiful, beyond it's looks.

So, I decided I'd just be taking a break. I didn't want my site to disappear, I didn't want to take away that meaning from anyone. Maybe that's a little cliche, but, it's nice to know people care about you. It's nice to feel that you belong somewhere.

And now I'm here, crying at something that's probably really immature. I don't know, I just, needed that break. I needed to remember why I loved my site, and I needed to remember that other people love it too. Maybe to some people, this will always just be a shiny exterior. And maybe to some people, I'll always just be a failure, an embarrassment, some edgy bitch who's not even worth listening to. But, it's nice knowing that even a few people think otherwise.

I'm sorry if this entry sounded whiny, or pretentious. I'm sorry if this situation seems petty, or stupid. But, to everyone who supported me through this, thank you. It really means the world to me. It makes me feel just a little bit lighter. Thank you.

My eyes hurt from crying right now. It's good to be back.

I'm sorry if this entry ends up being too personal. I'm just, processing things.

My oldest sister called me last night. I don't like speaking to her, she's not a good person. She told me my mother died. She's been dead for over two years now. Why she didn't tell me before, I don't know. I didn't ask why she was telling me now. All I know, is that my mother's dead.

She said a lot more than that, things that I don't want to write here. After we hung up, I just, sat at my desk. I cried, and I just started pacing around my room. It didn't feel like grieving. I don't know if I'm grieving, I don't really know what I'm doing right now. I'm just, scared.

My mother wasn't a good person. My mother was selfish, my mother was a liar, my mother was a manipulator. My mother would beat me for hours, my mother would berate me, say everything I did was disrespectful towards her. My mother would belittle me, make fun of me, lie about me just to get my father to beat me when she didn't have the energy to. My mother used people, she lied about people. She blamed every hardship in her life on other people. And eventually, it drove her insane.

She left when I was 15. Just, abandoned us. Abandoned everything. She'd call every now and then, spouting religious rants and conspiracy theories. And then, in the summer of 2023, I stopped hearing from her. She just, stopped.

I remember finding social media profiles she owned, some time in 2024. It was scary. She was just, decaying. She wasn't even a person anymore, she was just, bitter. Bitter, and consumed by everything that happened. Everything she did, and everything that was done to her. All of those accounts went silent at the same time. The summer of 2023. That's when my sister said she died.

I guess I saw it coming. I remember seeing those profiles, seeing the things she posted. It looked like I was looking at a corpse. And I guess I was. I just, didn't want to know. I still thought that maybe, just maybe, she was alive. Just, out there, getting better, or doing the same things she had always done. I remember, when she left. I cried that night, and my father began insulting me about it. He said I was just some scared child, who couldn't accept that my mother was never coming back. I guess he was right.

My mother wasn't a good person. But, my mother was a person. She laughed, she smiled, she had dreams and aspirations like anyone else. And she ruined them. She ruined them like she ruined everyone she touched. I remember, the few times she'd hold me, the few times we laughed together, the few times she cried when she was hurt. The few times I felt like I had a mother. And I hate knowing that I'll never have that again. I hate that, so fucking much.

I can't say I hate my mother. I resent her, I resent what she did, I resent her for everything. Every insult, every beating, every time she looked at me like I was just some demon-possessed freak. But she was my mother. She was someone hurt, she was someone who was tired, and broken, and clung to the worst means of escapes just to even have a semblance of stability. She was a sad, worthless person, who hurt people just for laughs. And I was one of those people. And I still love her.

It makes me feel stupid, it makes me feel like I'm going crazy. I feel like I'm just, living in this constant stream of hurt. I'm living in a fucking nightmare.

I remember her laughing in my face, when I told her I was scared. And I remember her standing in the doorway of my room when I was a child, when I said I was scared to go to sleep. I remember each and every time her hand would hit my skin, I remember every lie she told, hoping that even more bruises would line my body. And I remember a night when my parents had an argument, and I remember running to her for comfort, because I was terrified of my father. I remember everything. And I wish I could forget it.

I wish I could forget the day she walked out, the day she left that house without even saying a word to me. I wish I could forget pleading to her not to go, screaming at the top of my lungs that I needed her. I wish I could forget her, pointing her finger in my chest, threatening to kill me if I spoke any more. I wish I could forget when she said she didn't love her children.

People who knew my mother always say she was beautiful. And then, they say that I look just like my mother. And they say I'm beautiful. I think my mother was beautiful. But I don't think I'm beautiful. I look like her, but I'm not her. And every time I look in the mirror, I see her. I remember. And I don't wanna remember anymore.

I hope she died happy. I hope she died somewhere where she was loved. I hope whoever she died with loved her, and I hope she died in a place she loved. I hope she died remembering me, remembering everyone she hurt, everyone she left behind. I hope she died knowing that she had broken me. That she had broken me, just as everyone else had.

I don't know why I wasn't good enough. Why I wasn't good enough for her to love, why I wasn't good enough for her to stay. And I don't know why I wasn't good enough for anyone to even tell me she died. It's been over two years. Two agonizing years. I wasn't good enough to save her.

I think I'll take a break for a while. I just, don't want to think anymore. I cry when I think about her, I cry when I remember her. But, I still feel like I can function. Barely. I just, want to forget. I want to live the rest of my life without even knowing any of this happened. I want to forget so fucking badly.

I don't have much to write this time. I'm tired.

I got sick some weeks ago. I always hate getting sick, it makes me feel tired. Just, weak, and tired. It makes me feel like I'm falling apart, even more-so than usual. I don't like it, I don't like it when I'm that physically helpless. It makes me feel like I'm about to die.

I'm happy I decided to slow down updates here. It was getting so grating, having to write a new entry here every week. I feel a bit less pressured, whenever I write here, now. I can just, write. It's usually emotions I've already written about. But, at the very least, I can do it at my own pace.

That being said, I still don't have much to write here. It makes me feel bad. I miss when I could write paragraphs about the same set of feelings, over and over. Nowadays, I just, write a few sad sentences. It looks, really annoying to me. Makes me feel like some petty, unlikable, bitch.

I've been getting to sleep earlier. It's nice, I suppose. It makes me feel more drained when I wake up, though. Then again, I don't like waking up anyway. Whatever.

I'll probably just end this entry here. I feel like all I do now is just write random thoughts here, and then complain that all I do is write random thoughts here. Hm.

It's February already. This year's moving too fast for me.

I feel disappointed in myself, today. I feel like I did something bad, but I'm not sure what. I just, don't feel proud of myself. I don't know if I like where I am, or who I am. Something about me feels wrong, I feel like I'm not myself. I don't think I know how to be myself.

I've had this really painful sense of apathy, this week. I force myself to do everything, and I don't feel like I care that much anymore. It's hard to care about things, sometimes. It's hard not to just be spiteful, and bitter. I just feel like going back to sleep. I don't know if I'd want to wake up or not. Probably not.

Sometimes, I don't even know what brings on these feelings. It can't just be memories, this comes on even when I'm not thinking about the past. This just, happens. It makes me wonder if these feelings are even valid. Abuse is something people get over. Isolation is something people get over. Fear is something people get over. And I can't get over any of it. People tell me I will one day, and it gets grating. It's always later, and never now.

It's days like this where I want to break something. I used to hurt myself on days like this, I can't tell if it was out of boredom, anger, or some other third thing. But, I used to do it. I still do it, from time to time. I still hurt myself.

I just don't like feeling this, this hopeless. It's not even anguish at a lack of hope, it's more of a disinterest in that lack. I just, don't care right now. And it's frustrating, because I feel like I should care.

Whatever. Feelings will come and go, and I'll still be here. Probably. I don't know if I want to be here.

I wish my entries were more entertaining, every time I read them, I feel like some stuck-up bitch. I mean, I am one, it's just something I'd rather not acknowledge. Oh well. ♡

It's been getting colder and colder, lately. There's fog out every night. It's relaxing, but I can't help but feel a bit sad, when I see it.

I enjoy cold weather, but it never feels particularly nice. I like it because it feels harsh, but the weather it brings looks beautiful. It's unwelcoming, it's hated by most people, in favor of warmer and more tolerable weather. But, I think it looks beautiful anyway.

I feel overworked, I haven't had much time to myself. I haven't gotten much sleep, and eating makes me feel sick. There's always something to do, something or someone to deal with, but it's never anything I enjoy. I don't know if I enjoy much of anything anymore. It doesn't feel like it. It feels like I forgot how to do that. Or at the very least, I don't have time for it right now.

Occasionally, I have this feeling, where I hate being perceived. And I think I have that feeling again. Every time I go outside, it feels like someone's watching me. And whoever's watching me, is feeling nothing but disdain when they do. Every time someone speaks to me, it feels like they're just waiting to say something spiteful. I hate praise, it feels so fake, it feels like someone trying to set me up for something. I feel nauseous, when people attempt to support me. It makes me feel helpless, or like I'm about to be trapped. I'm too used to being used. I'm scared of being admired, it makes me feel like I'll let people down. I'm not anything good, and I'm certainly not something to idolize.

I always find it strange, whenever people get attracted to me. It happens relatively often, so I probably have some kind of appeal. I just, don't think that I do. I remember, the one time my mother ever praised me, she took it back the next day. She told me that everyone she thinks highly of always lets her down. I don't think she ever thought highly of me. I don't believe it, when people say they think highly of me.

I spent a lot of this week in a hospital, after a family member got hospitalized. I'm conflicted. It's strange, my family's always hurt me, but I've always tried to be kind to them. I don't think that makes sense, it makes me feel like a fraud. What right do I have to be effected by abuse, when I don't even completely hate my abusers?

I feel tired, my head feels tight, and I've just broken my earbuds while writing this. I have a lot of thoughts that shouldn't be on my mind right now, I'd rather focus on the future. I don't think I'm looking forward to the rest of this year. I suppose that dread has finally set in.

This entry's a mess. I'll post it anyway. ♡

I feel sad. I feel cold, I feel empty, and I feel aimless.

I've been in another slump for a few weeks now, and it's just been getting worse and worse. I'm not even sure if there's anything particularly bothering me, I just, feel so tired. Nothing feels good, or worthwhile. Nothing makes me happy. Instead, everything just, feels like a chore. I don't feel right, or well. I feel like at any moment, I'm going to fade away. I can't even bring myself to do much of anything as of late. I spent most of this week just sleeping.

Depression's strange. I don't quite understand it. I don't think others understand it, either. Or at least, not my case. Bouts such as these aren't triggered, they don't necessarily revolve around feelings like anger or hopelessness. Sometimes, there's nothing to feel angry over, nothing to feel hopeless about. Sometimes, you just get this cold feeling in your chest, like your heart is about to go out. And you feel like you can't take it, like you need to crawl into bed, close your eyes, and wait for the world to go away.

Everything feels so dissatisfying. The best way I can describe it, is sand slipping through your hands when you pick it up. Everything feels so far away, every emotion, every feeling, every thought. I feel like I've gone somewhere far away. And I don't where I went. I just know I wish I'd come back.

I keep thinking about death. I think about death quite a bit, really. But it always seems more prevalent, whenever I enter slumps such as this. It feels like something's dying, or like something's going to die. Maybe I think I'm going to die. My body feels weak, cold, and unstable. I feel like I'm going to give out. Maybe that has something to do with it. My family's aging, getting older and older. And yet, I have no closure. I wonder how long until they die. I wonder if I'll even live to see that.

I don't think I want to die right now. That's a lie, I think I do. I just don't have the energy to act on it. Perhaps I'm too much of a coward right now. Perhaps I'm just sick of going through this cycle. I hope that if I attempt again, I won't back out.

Suicide's almost a humorous topic to me. I think about it. A lot. I've thought about a lot of ways to do it. I feel ashamed admitting that. But it's true. It's an almost addicting idea, just imagining the ways you could die by your own hand. Perhaps that's too edgy. But, it's just what my mind goes back to. It goes back there too often.

It's hard to think that it's a new year. January never feels like a new year, it just feels like a month. It's cold, it's raining, everyone stays inside out of fear of both. I like January. It's harsh, it's spiteful, and it makes me feel at home. ♡

I think I'll take a walk. It's dark, it's cold, it's lonely outside. It's a bit frightening. Whatever.

It's a new year. I've changed. Quite a bit, I think.

I stepped away from this site for a month, because I was bored of where it was going. I got sick of it. So, now it's redone. I do hope you enjoy it.

I think I'm going to start making the entries here more uniform, and a bit less, rambling. I'm tired of repeating myself, and I'm tired of not really saying anything. Or at least, not feeling like I'm saying anything. I just want to start anew with this. I suppose that means entries here will become much more formal, and much less accessible. Maybe even a bit less frequent. I don't really care, I'm just happy to get rid of the old model I had for this site.

Most of my old poetry's been deleted, I wasn't happy with it. I've spent a lot of time working on my writing style, and I would rather focus on what I write now, than what I've written in the past. That also means updates for the writings page might become a bit slow. Again, I don't really care. My oldest poems were too edgy and deriviative anyway, I felt uncomfortable seeing people enjoy them.

Another thing I've done is rebranded this site's imagery. It felt so stifling, being associated with another piece of media, and I started to regret the decision to attach my own site to it. So, I got rid of it. It took a lot of time, and I'm still not that confident in my drawing abilities, but I'm quite happy with what's here now. The best way to connect my site's imagery to me, is to make it be myself, after all. Additionally, the landing page got deleted. It started to get annoying.

2025 was a strange year, really. I don't have much to say about it, it didn't really phase me. Not compared to the years before it, I suppose? It just felt monotonous. Not particularly good, not particularly bad. I overcame some issues, ones I'm honestly too lethargic to really mention. But, I don't feel like I accomplished much, either. I just, existed. And, I suppose that's the best outcome I could've gotten. Especially considering last month's events.

I actually attempted suicide, last month. Twice. It feels almost comical, mentioning that so casually. But I did. Both times, I just went into my shower, turned the water on, and tried to strangle myself. It was a strange feeling, I didn't particularly feel sad. I wasn't crying, or in any actual distress. I just sat down, held my knees to my chest, and tried to choke myself. I remember feeling my face strain, and this oddly pleasuring burning sensation in my throat. I remember trying to cough, and nothing coming out. It wasn't a bad experience, just, a very surreal one.

I gave up. Both times, I gave up. I'm not quite sure why. I think it just, wasn't happening fast enough for me. On the first try, I remember heading to my kitchen afterwards. My head was hurting, and I felt half-asleep. I grabbed a knife, tried holding it to my throat. I just stood in front of my sink afterwards, holding it, for a good ten minutes or so. I put it down, I don't know why. I felt sick the rest of the day, it most likely had to do with the lack of oxygen. I don't know.

I don't really knw why I attempted, let alone twice. I suppose I just, figured it was a good time. I'm not really looking forward to the new year, after all. I don't dread it, I don't think I'll struggle through it. But I'd be lying if I said I really wanted it to come. I think I had just thought that I'd be better off dead. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think that still.

Whatever the case, I gave up. I don't really care why. I lived, and I'm sure I'll attempt again eventually. Maybe one day I'll succeed, maybe one day I'll finally put it down. Either way, some things never change, and I am one of those things. ♡

Moving forward into 2026, I have no particular resolutions. There's nothing I'd like to accomplish, because I don't think I care enough to accomplish much. Maybe I'll get some cleaning done, or maybe clear out my music backlog. In terms of personal goals though, I don't have any.

It feels odd, writing a new year's entry this, apathetic. I remember, my new year's entries used to be a bit more lively. I just, don't have much to really say this time around. It's a new year, and I'm the same tired whore as always. ♡

At the very least, I'm looking forward to moving this site forward. Even if running this site can still feel grating. At the very least, I won't have to deal with being called the Persona 3 girl anymore. I suppose that's one victory?

Have a happy new year. Make it count.