Many of these older entries are much more spiteful and unorganized than what I post now. I'm not very proud of them, and I regret writing most of them.

Please read with caution, they tend to get fairly violent. Thank you.

quick entry just to get this week out of the way. im tired.

i don't think i'm gonna write much this time. in fact, i might actually take these next few weeks off, just to focus on myself and some other things. i'm starting to grow more dissatisfied with this site anyway, and i cant get this redesign done fast enough. im just, tired of how things are. both for me, and this site.

i've at least been enjoying other hobbies. i don't think i've spoken about it before, but i used to write fiction before i got into poetry. i abandoned it because i fucking sucked at storytelling. but, i've been getting back into it, and i like it. i don't think i'll post any stories i actually write, but it feels a little nice, knowing i have just one more outlet i can turn to.

other than that, i'm just as bitchy as usual and i dont care enough to properly write a full entry rn. i was hoping fall would get me out of my slump, but i think i'm just worse now. i'll get out of it eventually, just, not today.

this week wasnt that good. i just dont feel like im really all there anymore. i feel like my entire bodys gonna give out at any minute.

i just feel so unheard, im not sure by who, but its by someone. i feel like nothing i say means anything anymore, this diary feels like a waste of time. im sick of it. i feel like im just ready to die, nothings fun, nothing keeps me interested, everyones so annoying, im feeling sleepy all the time. i dont think im suicidal right now. but im definitely close to it. i feel like nothing would really be lost, if i just died right now.

earlier this week, i had to speak to my father. he started ranting about how i wouldn't speak to him. i finally snapped, mentioned some of the abuse he put me through. he just pretended to be shocked, doubted what i said was even true, and then told me to leave. of course the bastard gets to just live his life without even thinking any of it was real. it's the same dance as always, they always say they don't remember, they always say they'd never do it. but it did happen. and i remember it too fucking well.

they're just too fucking scared to even approach responsibility. too scared their current self-image will shatter if they even admit any sort of wrong. they can run off and roll around in self-pity and arrogance. meanwhile i have to pick up the pieces of everything they left me with. i hate my family, i hate them with a burning fucking passion.

the interactions been fucking with me all week. hes doing anything but apologizing, it makes me fucking sick. im sick of a lot of things, people places, life. i just wanna fucking kill it. i wanna kill all of it.

i feel violent, i feel spiteful, i feel like im in a glass case and even still no one can see me. i feel so disassociated from myself, i'm always angry, always annoyed, always ready to break down and fucking cry. i'm sick of it.

i'm ending this entry. i dont care to write a good outro for it. whatever.

i don't really know how to open this entry. i'm just tired.

i've been trying focus on myself lately, and not get too caught up with bad things. i've been putting a bit more into other hobbies, i've been working on writing and poetry a lot. html is honestly a pretty fucking boring hobby, so i've been neglecting this site, this week. sorry about that, i guess.

i just feel apathetic, and sick. my sleep's better, but i haven't been eating much, and the cold's been driving me to stay inside a lot more. people are still pretty annoying to me, but maybe i'm just starting to get annoyed by everything. maybe i'm already there.

i guess i just haven't been doing that much, this week. just writing, and listening to music, and writing while listening to music. i still feel very dissatisfied with myself, but, it's not my concern right now. i'm just done trying to get this emotional slump to end. i'm going with it, now. which i guess is a little ironic, since it's been getting me to be pretty active towards my other interests.

i don't feel like writing anything else here right now. one day, i'll get back to writing long-winded, nine-paragraph long entries here. today is not that day.

novembers here, winters finally on its way. i look forward to it, the fall has just been really sluggish. really uneventful.

i don't think this entrys gonna be that long, i've been a bit busy with some things, and i dont really feel motivated or thoughtful enough to pen anything down here. i'd rather just spend this weekend not thinking about anything. i know i won't, but it'd be nice.

i feel bad, these entries have just been getting shorter and shorter. i just don't feel like i have much to write about anymore. or maybe i'm scared of writing, of showing too much of myself. it's weird, people always tell me this diary feels so honest. but to me, it feels like a front. i sound like i'm revealing things about myself, but i don't know if i really am. i don't think i put as much of myself into this diary as i thought i would.

sometimes, my thoughts and problems just make me feel this feeling i dont really have a name for. its like sometimes, i just feel so pressured, that i just wanna start running, and screaming, for as long as i can. it's this violent urge i get whenever i have to speak with my family, this burning feeling i get whenever i have to think about the future. it's this energy that just builds up, that i'm never able to release. i dont really know what to call it.

people are starting to get a little annoying again, i feel like locking myself in my room to just calm down. i think everything just annoys me, these days.

i dont feel like continuing this entry, i think i'll just end it here. maybe i'll write something better next time.

the entries here have been getting shorter and shorter. i just dont have much to write about right now, i think. hm.

it's starting to rain a lot now. its actually been raining all week, i kinda like it. the days have been really dark and gray lately because of it, and its a little draining, but it also fits my mood, so i dont really mind. it just makes me remember how quick this year has been going by. i still don't feel like i've grown much.

the week hasnt been that good to me. yesterday was pretty bad, i just kept thinking about things and i kinda sent myself into a panic. now there's just this really bloody gash at the back of my neck. it's not painful, just really uncomfortable. i always feel really pathetic, whenever i find myself at points as low as that. it's hard to keep control of myself sometimes, i just can't help but hurt myself. it helps clear my head. i know its bad, but i cant help it sometimes.

i feel so unwell, i keep getting headaches every night, i dont know why. im probably just not eating enough, i barely even eat anymore. i've been going out more, just taking time for myself. i always feel like a liar whenever i just go places to take my mind off things. like, im walking around, acting like im as fine as anyone else, when im not. its cliche, but it makes me feel like im lying about myself. like im pretending to be better than i am.

i just feel so unstable, and i'm sick of feeling unstable. i feel stressed and angry all the time now, it's obnoxious at this point. i just wanna move on already, i wanna stop feeling all these things. i feel like i shouldn't want to forget what happened, but if i had the chance to forget, i can't say that i wouldn't.

i'm honestly too lazy to do much else with this entry. i'm probably just gonna go back to bed or somethinggg

feels like winter's almost here. it isn't, but it feels like it. it's getting darker earlier, everything's a lot colder. i like it.

sometimes, i get bored, even writing here. i don't really have anything to say right now, nothing to really express. i've been feeling a little better, this week. mostly just because nothing much has happened. it's nice, but it makes me wonder if i really even have a life beyond my problems. whatever.

it's really starting to set in how much the year has already passed by. it feels like i just can't keep up anymore. days always feel so fast, and they always just blend into each other. even if i do different things, every day still feels the same. i feel the same. and i hate that. i hate the idea that really, i haven't changed at all. everything else is changing, but i'm just here, staying the same, in the same spaces i've always stayed in. i'm stagnating. i don't know what i'm stagnating on, but it's something. i'm not what i should be.

it feels so easy to fall asleep now. i haven't gotten through a single night without waking up way too early. sometimes, i try to go back to sleep. most of the times i just stay up. i think it's starting to get to me, i feel so foggy, and i feel like i could fall asleep anywhere. i don't even know why i'm waking up.

poetry's at least been a little more fun, lately. i've been writing shorter poems with more defined stories, and it feels really refreshing. i was getting a little stagnant with my writing style, so it's been pretty nice, just getting to experiment a little more, and see what i can express.

i feel like this entry was just nothing. this is basically just a filler entry, honestly. i feel ready to fall asleep, i just can't really take this right now. i feel so drained, i feel like i'm just out on a highway somewhere, and i have no idea how to get back home. i'm just so tired.

octobers here. i forgot that. twice. honestly, i was expecting the fall to be more calm, but i feel just as lethargic as last summer. oh well.

i think i'm just tired of myself. i'm tired of feeling everything, i'm tired of looking at everything i write, and seeing something wrong. something sad, something spiteful, something unneeded. it feels like every morning, i wake up way earlier than i should, and i just lay in bed, thinking. dreading everything. and i'm sick of it. i feel so dissatisfied with myself, like i just shouldn't be like this.

i remember, i had to see my father again, a few days ago. he said he saw resentment in my eyes, and asked if it was because of him. i just stood there, and paused. and then i forced a smile, and said no. i told him i was just tired. i didn't like how happy he seemed when i said no. i spent the rest of the day just ready to fall apart. i took a walk to try and clear my head. halfway through, i had to just sit at a bench, and cry. someone walking by asked if i was okay, i just lashed out at them and stormed off. felt horrible the rest of the day. im so sorry to whoever that was.

i do that a lot, i think. i think i just can't take sympathy. i don't like it, it feels uncomfortable, there has to be something wrong behind it. and i hate that. it makes me feel awful, like some spiteful, angry bitch. it's not just sympathy i don't know how to take, i end up rejecting a lot of things from people who mean well. i just can't believe in people, i'm too scared to believe in people. no one's feelings feel real anymore, to me at least. my own feelings don't feel real, sometimes.

maybe i'm just sick of being me. i hate my flaws, i hate my emotions, i hate knowing that i can't remove my past from my present. it's like every time i do something, every thought i have, every time i talk to someone, every time i even have to walk outside, there's something that reminds me just how affected i am from what happened. it haunts me in everything i do, and i hate it. i just feel like i'm being controlled.

i just wanna feel happy, or at least pleasant. i wanna smile at people, i wanna look at myself in the mirror, and not see some dried up husk staring back. i wanna be able to sleep, knowing i'm not gonna dream about anything painful. i wanna look at my arms and not see rows of dark lines there to remind me. i wanna look at family photos, and not feel like i'm staring at my own death. i just wanna feel like maybe, just maybe, this is all real. and that it should be real. that it's okay for this to be real.

i wanna be stable again. i wanna feel stable. im sorry if this entry wasnt, im sorry if the past few entries have been overly bitchy and unstable. i just don't feel good right now. i don't.

i have an awful headache right now and honestly i dont really wanna write here today. oh well.

i hate being complimented. every compliment feels so fake, every time someone says i look nice, or that i speak well, or that i'm creative, it feels like they're just holding back from saying the opposite. i know most compliments are genuine, i know this is just some stupid complex i can't get over. but i feel scared of compliments. if someone says something nice about me, i can't help but ask myself if they really mean it. if they're just saying it to be nice, or if they're saying it because they can't vocalize their hate for me. it makes me wonder what would happen, if they were given the chance to speak about me honestly. i don't think they'd compliment me then. i've just learned to take compliments awkwardly, i never refuse them, but i feel disgusted whenever i hear them. i just don't believe in praise anymore.

i hate happy things, happy movies, happy music, happy people, all of it. its just so plastic-y, it makes me feel sick. i hate mornings, where every time, i have to drag myself out of bed just to even do anything. i always feel so nauseous, even on the nights where i do get sleep. i hate the weather, i hate how i don't even feel comforted by the cold anymore. it's getting cooler, and the air just makes it feel like my arms are on fire. i hate this website, sometimes. i hate knowing that no matter how much of myself i pour into this site, itll still only exist as the index page to some people.

i dont even know where im going with this entry, this was just me bitching about things i hate. whatever.

i dont really know what to write this time. i feel really lethargic and weak right now.

i keep feeling more and more dissatisfied with this site, almost to a kind of angry degree. i dont know why, but its just starting to make me feel kinda angry. i feel like this site isnt 'me' enough anymore. its too clashing in its tone, too far removed from myself. i want this website to represent me, but i dont think it does anymore. not in the way i want it to, at least. ive gone back and forth, about just deleting this site, and starting over. i think i'll probably do that eventually, just not now. for now, i've just been working on a redesign.

ive been feeling really fatigued lately, just completely out of it. yesterday, i woke up shaking, and my legs felt like they were just gonna give out from under me. i don't really know why i'm just falling apart this much. it feels like i'm falling apart.

i'm still scared of people. really scared of people. i don't know how to get around it, i just don't really like being near others anymore. i have to force myself to do it. i have to force myself to smile, to laugh, to even go outside. it's so tiring, i used to think i was getting over things. i'm not so sure anymore.

it feels like everything i say has no meaning anymore. i don't talk to people much. but, even when i'm talking to myself, it feels like everythings just going through one ear, and out the other. i don't know if i can even hear myself anymore. it's scary.

i feel oddly restless, sometimes. i've been so listless lately, but sometimes, i'll get these bursts of urgency. like i need to do something, something quick. and that something bad will happen, if i don't do something. i keep having dreams that i can't remember. all i know is that they're terrifying. i forget them immediately, but they always manage to just make me feel dread for the entire morning. i feel like i'm being stalked.

i don't have much to write anymore. i don't know how to end this entry either, tbh.

so last entry was a fucking trainwreck. oh well.

i dont have much to say this time, i dont feel like killing myself. not as much, at least. i feel like im stuck. like my life is not what it shouldve been. like its just permanently damaged. im not where im supposed to be, and i dont think i'll ever get to where i'm supposed to be. i feel dissatisfied again.

i keep getting these horrible headaches, i don't know if they're from stress, or because i've barely been eating anymore. probably both. i hate feeling sick like this. it hurts. a lot.

i feel like this entry's gonna be pretty disjointed, i'm not really putting myself into this one. i feel like i'm in this constant state of reeling back and forth, going from one extreme to another. apathy, sadness, anger, lust, they're all just four sides of the same emotion. and i think that emotion is hopelessness. i wouldn't say i'm hopeless. just hopeless in myself. everything's beautiful, even the most twisted things. not me, though.

it's weird, i don't know when i started being obsessed with being 'beautiful'. i don't know what it means to be beautiful, i just know that i'm not whatever it is.

i'm starting to grow bored, bored of something. just really tired and dismissive. every day feels the same, every week ends the same, every hour, every word, every breath i take, all feels the same. how many times have i wrote about the same things? how many hours have i spent at the edge of my bed, trying my hardest not to think? how many days has it been since i've even been able to tolerate looking at my own reflection? it's all so fucking repetitive.

maybe i'm bored of this site. i keep thinking i should rebrand, shut this place down, leave, do something different, something. something different. i don't know if i should, really. it's probably just impulse, or something. i don't think i should rebrand. but, maybe it is time for a new look. idk.

i'm too tired to finish up this entry clearly. i'm at this halfway point between wide awake, and ready to fall asleep. maybe i'm still just recovering from last week. last week was fucking hell. i still remember, so many times, i'd just be thinking. and then, i'd think back to that knife. i'd imagine myself, shoving it into my neck. i'd cut a line into my throat, tasting nothing but blood, before falling to the floor. and i'd just lie there, writhing in pain, and drowning on my own blood. i still think about it. i wanna stop thinking about it.

maybe i'm still not doing good. i don't fucking care anymore. i feel like some dumb, worthless bitch writing this. i'm stopping it here.

im not doing good today. im havent been doing well at all, actually.

sometimes, i think about suicide. i think about how close i am to it, whether or not i'd be too scared to even go through with it. and it feels like i'm near the edge. like at any moment, i'll finally just do it. it's fucking draining.

i spoke with my father again this week. i've felt ready to die ever since. i feel hated, despised, like some worthless waste of existence that should've never been here in the first place. it feels like no matter what i do, i'm never enough. never enough for anyone, not even myself. it's like i'm always running in circles, chasing my own damn tail, trying and failing to function as a normal human being. i wonder what it even means to be human anymore. what it means to be living. whatever living is, i don't think i'm doing it. not right, at least.

it's hard, not thinking about everything that's happened. i used to try hard to be there for people. i tried to be as kind to my family as i could. i tried to listen, i tried to be there for them, everything. and they called me a failure, a freak, told me time and time again that i didn't matter.

i don't think i matter. i think i'm horrible. but i tried. i tried to be a good person, i still try to be a good person. but it's like i just can't. whenever i smile, it's so engineered, that people feel unnerved. whenever i laugh, it's now just this forced, dry, breathless wheeze. even the way i walk feels tense, my legs are always rigid, my feet stepping in front of each other, my shoulders held like i want to run. i do want to run. i wanna run far away from here.

honestly, i've thought about it a lot. just running. leaving everything, running off to the woods somewhere, with just a bag of a few things. no food, no water, just my laptop, and maybe a plushie or something. i'd just run into a forest, and sit there, and wait. wait until a bear mauls me, or until i starve to death, or until a murderer comes up and just puts me out of my misery. i wanna do it, honestly. i wanna run away.

i'm no good person. i'm spiteful, i'm hateful, i've hurt people just for fun. i've lashed out, i've said things i never should have, i've broken countless hearts. i don't deserve to feel cherished. but fuck, i wish i could feel that. i wish that i felt like i mattered. like somehow, i'm not a waste. like i'm worth it. like i'm good enough.

but i'm not good enough. i'm a horrible person who only exists to ruin other people's lives. my family used to look so happy, before i was born. and now, everyone is hateful. they all hate me. and i don't know why, i don't know what i did to them. but i know i'm the problem. i deserve to be hated, even if i don't want to be. even if sometimes, i just want someone to hold me close, and tell me that it's okay. it'll never be okay.

my eyes hurt, my body feels like it's ready to fall over, and i have this awful headache that just won't go away. i can't look at myself in the mirror, and i'm trying my hardest not to just grab a knife from my kitchen. i'm scared why i'd want one. i don't feel good right now. i don't know what to write anymore, how to describe it, i'm just dying. i feel like i'm dying.

this isn't a suicide note, or anything. i don't think i'm gonna die tonight. i do feel like i should die, though. i just feel like i'm at the end of the line. whatever. this is probably just gonna be nothing but another entry.

septembers here, and im kinda late. fall is finally here and i really hope i can have a better time than summer. i just want winter to be here already.

i had to speak with my father yesterday, and it made me feel sick. he's always been pretty perceptive to pop psychology, he's always calling himself a 'super empath', an 'INFJ', that sort of shit. and it makes me want to vomit. it was at it's worst this time, he just kept spouting how he was this caring, empathetic 'advocate', who's always able to fix everyone's problems. it was disgustingly arrogant, and i could barely even stand to fucking hear it. after all this time, after all the shit he put me through, he wants to claim some shallow sense of innocence. he gets to play pretend, tell the world that hes some fucking saint. when i know what he did.

he's the one who would beat me, till i was covered in my own tears and blood. he's the one who would spend hours, shouting at me, telling me how fucking worthless i was. he's the one who looked me dead in the eyes, with the most flippant and disgusted frown ever, and told me i was the biggest disappointment of his life. he's the one who broke me.

the rest of my family does it, too. last i heard from my mother, she was out in some fucking religious group, acting like some holy woman who could do no wrong. as if she didn't try to strangle me, as if she didn't try to get my father to kill me, as if she didn't fucking abandon me when i was only fucking 15. i can't even count the amount of times i'd overhear my sister, crying to her friends, acting like i was just some bitchy, manipulative, whore. i bet she didn't tell them about all the times she told me to kill myself.

i resent my family, i resent my past. i resent how all of them can move on, can pretend that nothing happened. that they didn't fucking break me. i'm still here, stuck in the past, reliving everything, every single day, while they all get to go off on their own, and lie to themselves. i have to suffer, i have to remember, i'm the one who has to stay up every night, thinking of what happened to me. i'm the one who flinches whenever someone raises their hand near me, i'm the one with scars lining the skin of my neck, i'm the one who frowns in disgust whenever i hear the word 'family'.

i remember, when i was about 16, i tried to vent to my father about that day, when he called me a disappointment. he only did it because my mother had convinced me i was 'disrespecting her', or some shit. my father's always been too forgiving of her. no mercy for me, though. i told him everything that happened, and all he did was just sit there, silent. he then said he 'couldn't remember' ever doing that, before blaming it on my mother, and walking away. i felt ready to cry.

it's always been like this. none of them 'remember'. it's always just in my head, it's always just something only i can remember. they can live the rest of their lives, sweeping everything under the rug, pretending like nothing happened. but i remember. i remember everything, and i'll keep remembering until the day i die. i'm so sick of remembering.

it's like my past is just being erased, sometimes. like it never did happen, and i'm just remembering this fucked up false memory. sometimes, it feels like it's not even real. i'll think back on things that were done, things that were said, and it all feels so unreal. i'll remember new things, and then ask myself if they even happened at all. my memory's only getting fuzzier, i'm scared it won't be long until i can't even fucking remember anything that happened to me. i've buried so much, i'm terrified of forgetting where i buried it. i'm terrified of forgetting what i even buried in the first place.

sometimes, i forget i even was abused. sometimes, it feels like i've just always been sad, not for any particular reason. like it's just naturally how i am. i forget that things happened to make me like this, i forget that i was even hurt in the first place. i've been holding onto the past for so long, that sometimes, i can't remember why i won't let go. it's pathetic, it makes me feel fucking pathetic.

i don't know how to end this entry, but i'm doing it now, before i write anything worse. i always feel weird, when i write more scathing and personal entries like this, now. makes me feel like i'm just screaming at a wall. oh well.

summers about to be over. fucking finally, i cant stand it anymore. this was probably the longest summer of my life.

i think i've just been painfully bored lately, and i'm not really sure what could take away that boredom. i just feel really lifeless now, every single thing feels so overly monotonous. i hate mornings, i hate waking up, it's just so annoying. i always have to pull myself out of bed, because i don't even wanna face anything anymore. it's just so suffocating, so suffocatingly boring. i've always had these feelings, but i'm just especially sick of them now. maybe i'm just sick of everything.

i keep feeling really incomplete, lately. like i'm missing something, i just don't know what it is. it's like some kind of loss i'll never make up for, i just don't know what it is. maybe i'm just generally unsatisfied with myself. but it feels like a little more than that. like there's just a huge part of me missing. i don't know what.

writing's been a little easier, in terms of poetry. i'm actually pretty happy with the poems attached to this update, i wanted to write something a bit more comforting, i guess. poetry's a weird thing, i don't think my writing's really that good, but i can't help but feel a little satisfied, seeing the progress i've made. looking back at my older stuff, it feels kinda embarrassing now. i think i'm just generally a lot better at putting words together now. i feel kinda arrogant, saying that though.

i feel tired, writing entries like this. sometimes, depression isnt overly violent or dramatic. sometimes, its just this quiet little thing that follows you like a shadow. you always know its there, even when its not at its worst, its always there. i hate it.

i don't know, i don't have much i feel like saying this entry. i just want this month to be over, i want this season to be over, i want this terrible fucking slump i've been in to be over. the weather's finally starting to get a lot cooler, it's getting dark a bit earlier, i just want winter to be here already. i'm sick of this summer. i'm sick of summer in general, it's never been kind to me. i want this year to just disappear already.

i'm sick of writing here now, i feel like i'm getting more agitated as this entry goes along. just very restless again. i keep going back and forth between lifeless, and feeling like i'm ready to just fucking scream. i don't know if i want to shut the world out, or run at it with a knife.

i feel aimless. like im just spending every day, pacing around in circles. on the upside, i'm not sick anymore. but i just still feel so drained.

it feels like every days just been the same, for so many years. its starting to catch up with me again. i feel so directionless, like every day is just me taking one step forward, and one step back. and ultimately, i never get anywhere. nothing ever gets anywhere. i just stand in place, too apathetic to walk. sometimes, i don't even want to stand. i just lay down, and hang my hair over my eyes, and try to forget about the day.

it's starting to get dark a little earlier now. i'm liking it. it's still not early enough, but it's getting there. i like it, it means things are just a little bit quieter again. it's still too hot for my liking, but i guess it'll get cooler. i hope it happens sooner. the heat just makes me feel useless, and defeated. i hate it.

i've been feeling a little more motivated to update this site, maybe to get some more work done. i don't really have much ideas, but i feel like i want to do something. i say that a lot, and yet, i never end up doing anything. maybe i procrastinate more than i like to admit. whatever. i just feel like i'm in the mood to actually do something now. knowing me, i probably won't. but it'd be nice.

the entries here have been feeling a lot more sad, and a lot more spacey. i never feel much of a focus when writing here anymore. i don't feel much but apathy, really. it's kinda sad. even my most downer entries used to feel lively, to me at least. i don't think i feel as much spite anymore. i'm still a moody, catty, edgy bitch, but i don't feel a lot like that anymore. maybe i'm just watching myself change in real time. maybe i'm just losing even more emotions.

the entries here have also been like, a lot fucking shorter. and that pisses me off. i feel like i just can't even hold myself for anything anymore, it's all so exhaustive. i could do more, i could write more, i could spend so much more time here. but it feels so tiring doing so. it feels painful, to do so. i'm always out of it, always bored, always tired, always somewhere in my own little world. to the point it feels painful, sometimes. really painful. really isolating.

it's like my mind's just drifting somewhere, outside my own body. i'm not in touch with myself anymore. not like i ever was, i guess. i just feel so far away, if that makes any sense. it probably doesn't, who fucking cares lol. i just feel like i'm on autopilot. i'm breathing, i'm moving, but i'm not living. i'm just there, my own psyche frozen in time, as my life moves on without it. i feel like i'm stuck in my own life. i wanna get out. i really wanna get out.

i just hope next week's better. i wanna go somewhere. i wanna feel like i'm going somewhere. somewhere nice, peaceful, beautiful. i wanna feel beautiful again.

im probably not gonna write much today. i feel sick, lethargic, and like i should go to sleep. honestly, i should. whatever.

i feel like i need to do something, something big. i feel restless, like there's just a bunch of energy inside me, that i need to get out. i dont know why. i think its kinda funny, that this hits me when im sick. my bodys too exhausted to move, but my mind wants to run as fast as it can.

i keep getting this feeling that i should be doing something, that i need to be doing everything as quickly as i possibly can. its like somethings coming up, or like theres something i have to rush for. it makes me feel like somethings coming in my life, when i know that nothing is. nothing goods coming, at least. thats what i think.

its kind of a surreal feeling, its almost intoxicating in a way. its like youre just speeding through everything, in this desperate frenzy, all to catch up to something. i dont know what im catching up to. all i know is that this high, this speed, feels as stressful as it feels almost pleasurable. its like going down a highway with the windows open.

yet, its frustrating, because even through this sense of urgency, my usual thoughts still get in the way. if anything, this urgency makes them worse, sometimes. i feel like everything is slipping away from me, everything i know, everything i remember, everything i am. its all just rapidly fading away, and im in some race to catch it. somehow.

i think it could just be the time getting to me. summers half-way over. soon, itll be fall again. then winter. and itll already be another year over. that scares me. time scares me. so much can happen when youre not looking, and by the time you do look, youre already too late to change anything. too late to fix things, make amends, prevent regrets, start over. too late to do it all over again.

i dont wanna be a victim of time like that anymore. it happens too often. but it feels like even now, my times being snatched away from me. even this sickness makes me wonder sometimes, if im just finally gonna die now. i hope not. but it feels like it, sometimes. i feel like i'm falling apart.

im too tired to write anymore, i'll stop it here this week. time scares me.

i havent been feeling well. i think i'm sick, honestly. my throat hurts, my voice is strained, and i have this awful cough. it only lasts for the mornings, but it's been happening every morning for the past few days now, and it's starting to worry me. this is not what i needed right now.

sometimes, i just think about leaving everything about myself behind, and running. change my name, leave this town, leave the internet, anything. i don't know what i'd do after, but i'd just run so far away from everything else. i'd make myself go missing, and no one would look for me. it's just a thought i have, sometimes. i know i can't run, that even if i do leave it all behind, i'll never be able to outrun myself. but fuck, i wanna try sometimes. i just wanna leave everything and everyone behind.

when i was a kid, whenever my parents went driving, i always wondered what would happen if i just left, when they left me in the car. if i opened the car door, and walked away. ran away. i always asked myself if it was worth it, if there was anything out there. anything to run to. i always asked myself if my parents would even care. would they go looking, if they'd look out of concern or out of anger. i always asked myself if i could survive. if i'd rather die alone, in the woods, or on the side of the road, than suffer in the place i called a home. and ultimately, i never came to any answers. i'd always keep those doors closed. i'd never leave the car, i'd just patiently wait. i don't know if i regret that, or not.

when i was a little older, it got a bit more violent. i used to think about just lighting the house on fire, and leaving with my dogs, while everyone else would burn inside. i was too scared to do anything more than think about it, though. i felt like i still didn't wanna hurt anyone. i don't know if i still feel that way or not.

throughout all of it, i used to have dreams sometimes, where i'd just be at this ledge. i would throw myself over, and begin falling. but then, something would pick me up, and i'd start flying. it felt like those dreams would just go on for hours, as i'd fly through somewhere. i don't remember where. it just felt really nice, i think. really liberating. i don't have those dreams anymore. i can't help but wonder why.

it's weird, i feel isolated, but what i want is isolation. i think it's a different kind of isolation though. the kind where you can stand by yourself at the top of a mountain, and feel like you actually mean something. i want freedom. freedom from life, from people, from myself. i wanna re-enact that dream. i wanna jump off a building, and start flying away. and i'd never come back. it'd be nice, if someone could be with me. someone nice, and cute i guess. but i think i'd be happy, if i could just live life flying, by myself, to wherever i wanted to go. if i could leave my life behind, i feel like i would. i want to.

i've thought about it, yknow. just abandoning this site. not for any particular reason. i don't feel particularly trapped by this site, minus the occasional gripes i have with the people who look at it. but i feel like it'd be interesting. it's a tempting idea, and i don't know why. i don't have any plans of abandoning this place any time soon. but i think about it, sometimes. i can't help but think about it.

sorry that this entry's a little short, i don't have much else to talk about. i was gonna write something a bit more scathing this week, but i think i'll save it for now. i feel awful, but at least this entry seems a bit more cohesive than last one. whatever.

august is already here. soon enough, summer will be over. honestly im looking forward to it. i want this summer to end already.

sometimes, it feels like i just cant feel or say anything good about myself. it's cliche to say, but i dont think i can say anything good about myself. not on a deep, personal level at least. i guess i just dont really see myself as anything worth that. it feels fake, describing myself in any way that counts as 'good'. i can only talk about my negative qualities. it makes me uncomfortable, even speaking about anything but my negative qualities. when i say good things about myself, i feel like im not being honest.

even writing about something like that makes me feel bad. it makes me feel overdramatic, even though its true. it sounds like someone playing the victim. i am a victim, but i hate the label. i hate having to call attention to it, but it feels like everything i say does. it's weird. i remember, back in 2021, only a month before my mother left. i was 15, and i made this sort of 'promise' with myself on new years eve. i was in a really naive mindset, due to everything happening to me at the time. i was tired of confronting my past. i thought i could just outrun it.

so i made a promise with myself. that i wouldnt be defined by the past. that i wouldnt think i was alone, that i wouldnt think i was hopeless. and then, january of 2022 came. my mother left, and i broke that promise. i cried, because i didnt know how to do anything but break it. because at my core, i'm defined by my past. everything that was has effected everything that is now. whenever i go outside, i take notice of my mannerisms. and it's sad. i can't smile at people anymore, i can't even fake one. my lips just curve into this half-hearted line of acknowledgement. it's not a smile, just some poor attempt at one.

i can't look people in the eyes, it's scary. i don't know what i'll see, if i look someone in the eyes. i'm scared of what i'll see. when people talk to me, i feel this pulse of dread go through me, like a wave. i freeze up, and frantically turn around to whoever's talking at me. my body stays in this awkward, sort of demure stance. but my voice takes on this fake and vulnerable tone, as i try my best to keep up with the other person's words. it makes me feel like i'm not even human. like i'm just this creature mimicking what it sees, and failing miserably. guess im in my fuckin skinwalker arc or something.

even having other people around is painful. knowing that someone is present makes me feel scared, it makes me feel aimless, like i'm being hunted. i remember when i was a kid, my mother and father used to just stand in the doorway of my room, and expect me to speak. i didn't know what to say, i would just sit there, on the edge of my bed, or in some chair, silent. they would say they'd want to talk, and they'd expect me to come up with conversation. it terrified me. the people who's affection felt so far away, the people who scarred my mind and body, were lowering themselves to my level, in the name of 'conversation'. it felt fake. it felt like a trap. and it haunts me.

a lot of things from back then haunt me. songs my father used to play, a lot of them self-indulgent and pretty dramatic. a lot of them he'd blast from his stereo after arguments with my mother. i associate a lot of them with hatred. hatred of me. my mother was a very religious person. rather, a superstitious one. i remember all of her triggers, all of the things that would make her freak out, and start reciting prayers. i remember when i told her my favorite animals were cats and crows. she called me a witch, it was hurtful then, it's funny now.

i remember when my father cheated on my mother. those moans, pouring out from under the door of my parents' bedroom, still fuck with me. i didn't understand what they were. when i was old enough to understand, i cried. i still sometimes have nightmares about the argument that happened after, that night. my mother screaming, my father screaming back. my father's partner, clutching me like she was trying to crush me. me, blindly running to my mother, as my father nearly pushed her down the stairs.

i remember my sister, lying about me to my mother. saying i had hit her. i remember my mother, slamming me down onto the floor in response. i remember the look on my sister's face, this disgusting mix of spite and pride. i remember my father, coming upstairs, wondering what happened. i remember standing up, feeling like i was about to topple over. my sister spoke again, and my father threw me to the floor as well. i couldn't even move my neck for a week. i almost died, that afternoon. i should've.

i dont know why im writing about this. why this entry went in this direction. i dont wanna write about this anymore. im not comfortable with this entry. i'll publish it anyway. i just dont want to look at this one anymore. i'll write something different next time.

i don't feel like writing much this entry. right now, i feel like going back to bed honestly.

you ever do something so long, that you start to wonder what you really do it for?? im going through that right now. wondering why i'm keeping up a site this stagnant. i don't feel like i'm doing particularly anything with this site. yes, i made this place for self-expression. yes, this type of venting is exactly why i started this website. but i just can't help but think, that even with those reasons, this site is nothing more than a waste of time. i don't know how to overcome that feeling.

i don't really feel like i'm growing in my poetry, either. more like i've just stayed at the same area again. it doesn't feel like my words are going to any new or exciting places, they're not exploring any interesting ideas anymore. everything i write just sounds more like filler loosely strung together. it's disappointing, i used to feel so confident about what i wrote, so excited to at least see where my own skill would go. and now, it feels like i don't even have any skil. i'm just throwing words at the wall, and hoping they line up in a way that's good enough to work as a poem. that's not poetry, that's just sad.

i feel a lot more prone to crying, lately. maybe it's just bottled-up emotions, but it feels like i'll shed a tear over anything now. just anything that stresses me, anything that feels like it's pushing me over the edge. it feels dumb, immature. i'm sure it's not, but fuck, it feels like it's wrong. i don't feel like i have a right to cry anymore. this is just how my life is, and for me to even protest through something like crying, is pretentious at best, and childish at worst. that's how i was raised, at least.

i keep thinking about the future, more and more. how much of my time i'll lose as i get older, as more and more responsibilities pour onto me. how people i see today, the people i don't even like, will die. how my life, the world around me, will one day look completely different. how i'll one day look completely different. i hate thinking about the future. i do it a lot, but i hate it. i don't have any profound conclusions about it, i don't really care enough to form any right now. i just feel like i'm going too fast now.

i'm not quite sure which i hate the most, the present, or the future. the future is scary, but it leaves room for change, even if it's negative. and for a bitch as impulsive as me, change helps me feel alive, even if i hate it. the present is just stagnation. nothing but the same emotions, every day. the same sickness, eating away at my body. the same sky every morning, that makes me feel like some insignificant grain of sand when put next to anyone else in the world. the past is the worst, at least. the past is nothing but a cage, and i'm the dog that has to live inside it.

i don't like this entry, it feels whiny, and immature. but i'm too lazy to write anything else, and i still just wanna go back to sleep right now. i'll write something more worthwhile next time, but right now, i feel like i'm just wasting my time. wasting the time of anyone who even bothers to read this shit lol.

i haven't been able to sleep at all these past few days. it's starting to get really annoying now.

i've been a lot more agitated lately, a lot more apathetic. i've gone from feeling riddled with fear, to feeling infected with this overpowering sense of anger. everything makes me feel hurt, somehow. everything makes me feel exhausted, saddened, infuriated. i spent the entire morning yesterday, just burning with anger directed at nothing in particular. i had things on my mind, but i don't know what.

it's getting harder and harder to write these entries. sometimes i wonder if there's really any worth to anything i put down here, if there's any point at all. maybe i'm just spinning my own wheels, just going in fucking circles. maybe this diary has no point at all. i use it to vent, but it feels like i have to drag myself here in order to even vent. hell, i feel like this site is just slipping away from me. i don't know what to do with it anymore, i don't know what to do with myself anymore. maybe this entire website is nothing but a waste of my own time. that's just fucking sad.

everything in my life feels stagnant, and for some reason, thats making it feel like everything is falling apart. maybe things are falling apart. maybe i'm the one falling apart. i can't sleep anymore, it feels like there's something wrong with me every day, i don't even feel alive anymore. i don't know if i ever did.

sometimes, i wonder if someone's ever read this diary, and laughed. surely, someone's done it. surely, someone finds this pathetic. i find it pathetic. every word, every letter, every pixel of text that displays on the monitor i'm even writing this on. it all seems so pathetic. like, wow, i'm really doing this again. i'm still stuck in the same ways, in the same complexes, doing and feeling the same things every day. trauma is like trying to live life on a treadmill. everyday feels like this exhausting struggle to overcome the instincts and emotions you've developed, but no matter what you do or where you go, you're still in the same place. it feels like you've run for miles, but really, you're in the same room, in the same place. and you only get more and more tired, as you try to run faster and faster.

i still have bouts of intense fear, they aren't as common anymore. they've mostly been replaced by this feeling of shame, of hideousness. like i'm some disgusting creature who should be locked away. i want to hide from everyone, i want to go to sleep, shut the world out, and not wake up until everything's over. until it's just me. until even my own thoughts are gone.

i just wish i could get out of this emotional hole i've been dug into. it feels like every single thing in the entire universe hates me. like everything, everyone, wants nothing more than to watch me bleed out and die. everything feels so slow, so tiresome. it's exhausting to even take a single breath, every movement feels tasking, and i don't know why. every time i wake up in the morning, i want nothing more than to crawl back under the covers, and pretend that nothing exists anymore. sometimes, all i want to do is sleep forever.

is that wrong? it feels wrong. it feels disgustingly wrong. like there is something fundamentally wrong with me, for even feeling this sense of despair. it's this horrible mix of longing for something i don't understand, of missing something i'll never have again, of dreading a future that's impossible, of looking at a life that i want nothing to do with. even now, i can't even keep my eyes open. i just want to fall asleep. i want to fall asleep.

i don't wanna write anymore, i'm going back to bed. i really do apologize for these past few entries. i just can't get out of this slump.

i can't think of an interesting way to start this entry. i'm just really tired.

yesterday wasn't good to me, i felt diseased. my body felt sick, my head had this piercing headache through the entire day, my limbs felt like they were about to fall off, and my eyes hurt to the point it was getting hard for me to see. i don't know what happened, or why it's gone away now, but it really fucked me up. it's not what i needed to go through. i felt like i was dying.

i keep thinking about death, about dying. it's this topic that just kinda hangs in the back of my head now. thoughts about what's gonna happen when i die, how i would like to die, if i should just die right now. i think i'm just really scared. maybe i'm finally spiraling. it feels like i've been spiraling for weeks now.

these past two months have been annoying, in a way. honestly, i hate summer. i really fucking hate summer. it's a season where nothing good ever happens to me. every summer, i'm sent into some month-long emotional crisis, and i hate it. i hate the heat, i hate the sunlight, i hate how bright everything is. i feel like the weather itself is just fucking taunting me. summer is a season that makes me feel like everyone in the world is just laughing at me. nothing good ever happens during summer. nothing at all.

really, the only seasons i enjoy are fall and winter. spring's still too bright, but it carries this sense of change with it. like everything's moving forward, except me. the flowers bloom, the trees get greener, people graduate, the weather gets warmer. everyone and everything goes forward, and meanwhile, i'm still stuck in the same place as always. spring makes me feel inferior.

fall is enjoyable, even if it's not my favorite season. things get quieter, colder. the weather feels more tolerable, the trees look pretty, and it's when people start going back inside. it's a season where i feel like i can relax, even if it's for a little while. winter's better for that, though.

i'd say winter's actually my favorite season, really. i don't know why, but the cold makes me feel more at ease. all the plants die, all the animals go away, and even people rarely ever go out. it makes me feel like time is just frozen. winter makes me feel like i have time to stop and think. it makes me remember things, feel emotions i kept myself from feeling, do things i was otherwise too scared to do. i cry a lot during winter, i remember a lot of regrets during winter. but it's still a season that makes me feel seen. the rain, the snow, the silence, it's comforting.

maybe i just have some form of seasonal depression, or something. not like it really matters, i'm depressed all year round, but summer is definitely when it gets the worst. i just really can't wait for this season to be over already. i miss when things were quieter, colder, more forgiving. i just feel so weak, and scared. i don't really know what else to say anymore. i just feel like crawling back into bed, and crying.

i feel like i lost something. i'm not really sure what. i think i'll just end this damn entry already.

i don't feel good today. yesterday was really hard. really fucking hard.

right now, i'm in that part of depression where you can't blame anyone but yourself. where you feel like everything said to you is right, everything that happens to you is justified. like no matter what you did, no matter what happened, whatever's happening now should happen. this is just what i get. i don't know what i did, but this is what i get for it.

it's not right, i hate it. but it's just this intrusive thought that always comes around, whenever i'm at my fucking lowest. it broke me, yesterday. it fucking broke me. i remember, just standing in my bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror, and feeling disgusted. i looked like some sad, used-up freak. just some useless bitch. i couldn't stop crying, it felt like my eyes were fucking bleeding. i feel sick, i feel weak, i feel like i did something horribly wrong, and now i'll never be able to recover.

sometimes, i wonder why people even hurt me. i never did anything to hurt my family. or at least, i don't think so. i tried, i tried my hardest, i tried to be the best person i could be. and all i got in return was hatred. all i have left now is just a scar on my leg. i feel like i did something to deserve it. i know i didn't deserve it, but it feels like i did.

the few times i've tried to make friends, it always ended in failure, and hatred. i don't know if i've ever really even had friends. i just became something to those people, never someone. a joke, a doormat, a sex object. it was terrifying. i don't know what i did to make people want to dehumanize me. it feels like i did something. something wrong.

it feels really hard to write right now. my hands are still shaking, and my eyes keep hurting. it's like my body's just rotting from the inside out. i feel ill. mentally ill, physically ill, just ill in every sense of the word.

the past few days have been awful, i just keep thinking back on every single thing that's ever happened to me. i feel empty, but my head feels too full. people keep shooting fireworks everywhere, it feels like it's driving me insane. i can't tolerate loud noises anymore. i don't know why. i just fucking can't. it was annoying at first, now it's just terrifying. i feel like soon, very fucking soon, it's going to be over. my life is going to be over.

i don't wanna write today anymore. i'm just gonna spend the rest of the day trying to occupy myself with sleeping and music. i don't feel like i can really do much of anything any longer. sorry for the short entry, and sorry that it's a bit edgy. i just don't wanna do this right now.

i delayed this week's update because i wanted to make it for july. july's here, yippee. summer's a bitch, and so am i, i hate this weather, i hate this month, i wanna get to winter already.

i haven't been doing well. i feel frightened. just riddled with fear, and this unshakable anger that goes along with it. i'm afraid, and that makes me angry. and i'm angry, and that makes me afraid. i don't really know if i'm in a good condition to write anything right now.

i can't stand loud noises anymore, every time i hear someone raise their voice, my entire body just freezes. my neighbors have been slamming their doors whenever they leave lately, and every time, it makes my entire body fucking shiver. i don't know why. every night, i feel paralyzed, i can't even do anything at night anymore, my body just begins to grow extremely heavy. i can't even speak to people one-on-one anymore, it's terrifying. i don't want to be near people, not alone, at least. i'm scared. scared of what will happen. i just can't do it.

i don't know why i've been riddled with so much anxiety lately, but it stresses me. it makes me angry. because honestly, it feels unfair. so fucking unfair.

things happened, and i will always be effected by those things. honestly, i don't even think i'll be able to live a normal life anymore. there's nothing normal about being abused. but, it's frustrating. because while i'm here, stumbling through the same things over and over, everyone who did this to me gets to live on. they all get to forget, they get by with no consequences. they can pretend it never happened, they can shame me for hurting, they can insult me, they can call me some useless disappointment that'll never amount to anything. and i get nothing, nothing but what they fucking did to me.

my parents used to vent to me, when they were together. they'd pull me aside, and complain about whatever miniscule problems they had with each other. just petty bullshit. and all the while, i would have to sit there, i'd have to live up to expectations, i'd attend to every word they'd say. i'd listen to how 'hurt' they were. i'd fake a smile when needed, i'd say whatever people-pleasing slop they wanted me to say. all the while, i'd be fucking furious internally. furious that the people who broke me expect me to fucking fix them. the same people who hit me, abandoned me, tried to fucking kill me, really thought i would sympathize with them. i couldnt. i never could.

i can't think of my family without getting enraged anymore. i can barely consider anyone without getting furious. i don't want to live for other people, i feel like all i can do is be alone. and i hate that on multiple levels. i hate that i'm angry, i hate that i'm spiteful, dramatic, fucking infuriated. but i also hate that, no matter how angry i get, i can't do anything. i can't make myself do anything. i want to do something evil, i want to show the few people left just the type of bitch they created. but i can't. because i'm a fucking coward. i'm just a fucking coward. they were all fucking right.

and so, i'll keep fading in and out of my family's memory, while my own memory just fucking rots. i wanna get violent, but the only person i can get violent towards is myself. and to be honest, i don't think i'm undeserving of that violence. i'm not any better than anyone else. i'm just at my limit. i feel like if i have to hear one more word out of another person's mouth, i'm gonna do something i'll regret.

not a single day has felt peaceful lately. the heat's starting to get obnoxious. i can't do anything without feeling at least a little uncomfortable. my legs have been aching for the past few days now, and for some reason, they numb when i get sleepy now, which is often. it's a horrible feeling, like your leg's been crushed. whenever it happens, i can't even walk for a good ten minutes. i barely even eat anymore, i rarely get more than three hours of sleep, and it hurts to even keep my eyes open sometimes.

i feel like i'm falling apart over nothing, like every other person is in the future, and i'm in the past. i feel like everything i've ever been told about myself was true. i don't wanna spiral any more than i already have, i don't wanna go lower than this. i hope i'm not gonna die soon, but fuck, does it feel like i will. it feels like i should.

i don't really care about how bad this entry looks right now. i needed to get this out.

once again, i am way off-schedule. my pc's been dead for most of today, and it was really fucking annoying.

i'm not really sure what to write this time. i've just been going over ideas in my head, but i still can't think of anything. i just feel really bored right now, i guess. just very aimless and bored. i've felt like that all week, really. i have a lot of free time now, but nothing to do with it.

sometimes i wonder how well this website really represents me. i think it's a good representation of myself, i just don't think i can represent myself very well. very rarely do i ever feel like i'm being fully open and honest, in anything i do or say. it's always been something that scares me, not knowing whether anything i say or do is really genuine, wondering if any of my actions are ones i'd really like to take. when i try to laugh, is it because i want to, or because i'm told to? when i try to speak, when i try to smile, is it because i think i should? or because others think i should? there are very few people i've ever met who i can safely say i didn't lie to, at least in some capacity.

i don't lie traditionally, i think. arguably, i'm not even lying. but it feels like i'm lying, when someone approaches me, and i have to force myself to put my bitterness away. i have to force myself to act kind, or at least take on this flimsy personage of what i think 'kindness' is. i don't like the divide between my 'casual' self, and my 'real' self. undeniably, they're both parts of myself. but just because they're who i am, doesn't mean i have to like it.

idk, i feel like i'm not really making sense anymore. tldr, i try and fail to act like a saint, when i'm really nothing but a bitch. i don't think i'm warm, or friendly, or kind. i'm quite the opposite, and it makes me feel sick whenever i have to act like i'm not. i can't even act well.

there's not much for me to do right now, but i still feel so overworked at the same time. i feel sleepy all the time, and i can't stop waking up way too early. my body always feels restless, or in pain, even when nothing's really happened. my skin feels hot, but my joints feel weak, it feels like my neck will snap at any moment. my legs have been getting shakier and shakier, my eyesight looks a bit blurrier, my hands feel like they can't touch anything anymore. my body feels like it needs to sleep, and like it needs to run a mile, all at the same time. everytime i go to the mirror, i force myself to keep my head down. i'm scared of what i'll see looking back at me.

it's been even cooler outside lately. it doesn't feel like summer anymore, just this weird husk of it. the sky's been bathed in this gray-cyan light for the past few days, it's beautiful, but it feels lethargic at the same time. like the sky's dying. i prefer it over the heat, but it just makes me feel such a strange, hesitant sense of melancholy. like it's okay, but only for a little while. like it won't be okay for long.

i live around a few schools, so i've seen a lot of students getting out for summer break. it makes me envious, seeing them. they're always with friends, laughing, smiling, going somewhere exciting. i'm not really sure why i feel envious. i could probably think of reasons, but i don't really care to right now. it just makes me feel this stinging sense of bitterness. it's kinda weird to think that only three years ago, i was the age of the people i see now. growing up is fucking scary, i dont wanna be 19 anymore.

it's funny though, i don't really get along with people younger than me for the most part. i don't usually get along with my peers, really. everyone's just usually too hyper or extroverted for my tastes. i can't keep up with them, i never could. it's honestly annoying. not all of them are annoying, but most are. not like people older than me are much better. they're usually too pretentious, it pisses me off. the older they get, the more snobbish they become. maybe i just don't get along with anyone anymore.

poetry's been getting a little easier now. it feels like every time i complain about writer's block, it goes away. pretty convenient. i've just been listening to a lot of music for inspiration. i haven't gotten much inspiration, but it's enough to make writing fun again. sometimes the music will just make me fall asleep, though. i actually had a dream about writing a poem, last night. i remember the words i wrote, but i don't wanna turn them into an actual poem. it wasn't a good poem, i think.

i feel like i'm just rambling at this point. this entry was bad, it didn't make much sense. i've had worse thoughts than this, i'm having worst thoughts than this. but i'll leave them be for now. i'm trying my hardest not to turn this entry into another violent rant about things i've said before. i thought i'd write something a little more down-to-earth. or at least, down-to-earth in my eyes. whatever. i feel sleepy again.

trying to rush this entry today. i'm way off-schedule and it's got me kinda restless. whatever.

i'm really not sure where to take this site anymore. i see personal sites as extensions of people, and just like people, those sites go on to grow and evolve, as long as the owner tends to them. but, here i am, keeping up my site, and i feel like it's just going nowhere. makes me feel like i'm not really going anywhere myself.

i guess i'm running out of ideas, when it comes to ways to express myself beyond writing. i have a few more ideas left, but i haven't had the time to get started on them, and so it just makes me feel like this place is stagnating. it's a little disappointing to be honest. i wanna push the limits of this site, but i can't really think of any feasible ways to do that right now. obviously, no one's requiring me to keep adding more and more to this site, but i wanna see myself do that at least. i just don't have ideas right now.

i'm not in too much of a rush, though. ideas don't come quickly, and i'm sure i'll find something else to add to this site eventually. i'm just a little worried about the longevity of this site, i guess. makes me wonder how long i can really keep this shit up. everything ends eventually, and so will this shitty website. i just wonder when it'll end. hopefully not soon!!

it's the reason why i've even considered just remaking this site into solely a diary. just deleting all the other pages, and making this and the poetry page the only things available. it'd probably be easier to keep up, but it definitely wouldn't be as fun to keep up. hell, keeping this diary is probably the most begrudging part of owning this website. i write here because i have to, not for anyone else, but rather for myself. if i didn't rant and scream about my problems here, i'd probably do a lot worse. i'd have a lot more scars on my body if i didn't choose to write here.

reminds me of a comment i saw in my cbox, a few days ago. someone said i supposedly 'like' what i do here, because why else would i be doing it?? it pissed me off. guess that person just doesn't understand the basic concept of 'venting'. it just felt really fucking pretentious. i fucking hate it when people try to psychoanalyze me, just because i'm some edgy emo bitch doesn't mean i'm some fucking lab rat to study. it's not the first time this has happened.

i've been in a bit of an emotional slump lately, just a lot of ups and downs. i don't feel too bad at least. if anything, i'm actually feeling a little good right now. better than last entry, that's for fucking sure. idk, i feel like i have motivation finally, but not for anything to do with this site. i wanna further my hobbies a little bit more, maybe clear out my game backlog a little bit. it's been getting a little harder to write poetry lately, i feel like i don't have many original ideas when it comes to topics. i like being able to write just streams of consciousness, but i also like it when i write more focused poems, with proper imagery and storytelling. poetry's a weird fucking thing.

i don't really know how to end this entry. right now i just wanna snuggle into my blankets and like sleep for 30 hours or something. i woke up at like 3 AM and i need to stop doing that.

it's still too hot. i fucking hate summer so much. i should just start wearing lighter colors already.

i'm not doing good. i don't think i'm ever doing good whenever i write here. that's just how this goes, i guess. i hate this feeling, when i have other things to talk about, but i have no motivation to talk about them. it's not like i can't write something more profound here. it's just that right now, that's not where my head is. i hate it.

i can't stop feeling like i deserve to die. every single day, someone, or something, reminds me that i'm inferior. and at this point, i don't even defend myself. after being told the same thing so many times, for nineteen years straight, you start to wonder if it's true. if there really is something just physically wrong with you for being like this. i can't say i don't believe it. i can't say i don't believe that someone like me, someone with my emotions, someone with my way of thinking, doesn't even deserve to live.

and to be honest, i'm sick of feeling like that. like there's something wrong with me, just for existing. but i know it's right, and it kills me. it feels like it kills me.

i was called a disappointment yesterday. just some defective let-down. and that person was right. i disappoint everyone who approaches me, i'm always the problem, i'm always the unfeeling monster tearing away at people. and i hate it. i hate that all my life, i've been denied the privilege to feel pain. i can't question anyone, no one is wrong except myself, i'm always the villain. even when i know my feelings are natural, even when i know others are unreasonable, i still can't shake this dreadful feeling that i'm the one who needs to be killed. that the only thing that should justifiably happen to me, is my own murder.

even when i was just some helpless child, everything that happened to me was justified. they never had a good reason to hit me. but fuck, did it feel like they did. i have to remind myself that what they did was wrong, sometimes. that everything about it was fundamentally wrong. i can't decide if i'm a victim or not. if i'm someone suffering, or if i'm just some bitch getting what i deserve. i can't tell anymore. it just feels wrong, it feels so wrong.

i hate that feeling too. confliction, uncertainty. not even knowing if you're really you anymore. i can't help but ask myself if anything i say to anyone is really genuine. i try to avoid others. when they speak to me, i don't say much. i just say whatever sounds the most normal, whatever sounds the most pleasing. i agree with everyone, i disagree with nothing. i laugh when i have to, i stay silent whenever it feels like i should. i'm scared what will happen if i speak up too much. at that point, is it really communication? it's more like they're just speaking to some machine that'll deposit whatever answers it thinks are appropriate. and i'm that machine. that's not communication, in my opinion. it's just disappointing.

i always feel like some entitled child throwing a tantrum, whenever i feel bad about what's been done to me. like i'm just whining about something i deserved. it doesn't feel undeserved. even the most violent things felt deserved. like no matter what, it was only right for it to happen to me. i am the problem.

that person was right to call me a disappointment. i feel like one. i disappoint myself. this entire entry is just disappointing. i wanna write something else. i'm sorry that this entry is repetitive.

my arm feels weak, i can barely raise it. my legs feel restless. every night, i get this piercing migraine, and i end up drifting in and out of sleep while passed out on my desk. i feel like my body is just rotting. everything sounds too clear, too loud, it's even worse than it was before. and every time i go outside, i feel like every single person is staring at me. i can't stop feeling like i'm just decaying from the inside, like everything's going to come to an end soon.

it's summer now. not really, but who cares about solstices. to me, it's summer now. and i fucking hate it, it's been too hot lately. my heat tolerance is awful.

this week was awful. every day it feels like i have to get some sort of reminder of just how horrible i am. someone tells me something, something happens to me, some thought comes into my head. all of it says that i'm no better than a fucking insect. it's horrible. i feel like i'm in some kind of loop, just stuck reliving the same emotions and memories, over and over. the other day was sort of a breaking point. i had to just close every window in my apartment, and head into my room. and now there's a pretty long scar at the back of my neck. it's disappointing.

sometimes i wonder if it's even really that bad. i'd rather not talk about the same things i spoke about last entry, though. i could, but it'd be boring as fuck. i'm not really sure what i wanna write here. i haven't really had a lot of creative thoughts lately.

i think i've grown this horrible fear of people. then again, i've always had a fear of people, really. people are harsh, unpredictable, scathing when you least expect it. it's people who made me like this, i think. so i've never really had a desire to interact with most people. they terrify me. every time i go outside, i feel like i'm being watched, like someone's just waiting to do something horrible to me. every time i go to my window, i feel like someone's looking back at me. every time i turn away from my window, it feels like their gaze gets even stronger. sometimes, i wonder if it's just all in my head. i hope no one's stalking me. i feel like i'm being stalked.

people are a drag to interact with. it's another reason i fear them. i'm still so sick of people who think they know me, people who think they know exactly what happened to me. i've never had friends, i don't consider anyone to truly be a friend. if i use the term, it's only for formalities. i've only ever had acquaintances, the amount of people i've ever liked being around is extremely small. it makes me feel pathetic. i don't like making myself an outcast, i don't like feeling disgusted whenever someone compliments me, or says my name. it makes me sick to my stomach, every time i hear someone proclaim themselves as anything to me.

maybe i'm the problem. i know i'm the problem. i can't really be myself around people, i can't allow myself to be like this. i fake my smiles, and they never reach my eyes. my laughs are hollow and empty, i agree with what people say no matter what it is. i don't know why. maybe i do it so i can't be hated, even if i know they will hate me one day. or maybe i just do it so they'll leave me alone. maybe i just like lying to people.

or maybe i'm just scared of being weak. i know i'm weak, but one of the worst feelings is being treated like it. depression is a strange thing. people put you down if you show the signs of it, but don't tell them you have it. but if you do have it, and people know that, then they'll coddle you like some pet. i hate being infantilized, i hate being treated as special, or different. but when people treat me like some bright person, i get furious. it's like a denial of everything i've been through. but i hate it when people acknowledge what i've been through.

isolation's not a good thing, especially not self-isolation. but it's not my fault that i find everyone obnoxious. or at least, i hope it's not my fault. i know these feelings are wrong, and hateful, and i hate myself for having them. but it's just instinct. it's just natural, at this point. when people are bitchy to you, you become a bitch yourself. i just don't feel like i can even socialize properly. i'm too spiteful, there are more people i hate than people i like. it makes me feel ill. physically ill.

i wonder how much of this is really myself, though. i can't really interact with people anyway, they're just on a higher level. i remember once, someone told me i was like a machine, doing it's best impression of a person. and that stuck with me. a lot of my mannerisms are just compromises. i fake my smiles, because i rarely feel happy. my laughs are empty, because nothing's really funny anymore. i agree with everyone because i'm too scared to say no. even after all this time, i can't really function as a human. it's like something's just in the way of me thinking or feeling correctly. maybe it really is a disease.

i keep noticing i've been getting drowsy often, for no real reason. i feel so tired all the time, but i can't get a good sleep anymore. sleeping is uncomfortable. i hate it, it feels dissatisfactory now. it's not the same anymore. it's like there's just this strange emotional pain to it. i don't know what happened, i just can't sleep and feel safe anymore. i've been getting a lot of migraines lately, my thoughs have been getting a bit more scattered. i don't have much of an appetite, i can't even listen to music without my head hurting, no matter what volume. i feel like i'm decaying.

i'm sorry if this entry got a bit frenzied. i feel like i say that every entry, as if people don't read this just to watch me break down. whatever. i'll do better next time.

ughhh may's almost over. won't be long until june. i feel so slow.

these past few weeks, i've been repeating the same thing to myself, over and over. i'm not a good person. i don't think i'm a good person. truth be told, i'm a terrible person. for a lot of reasons, i'm a terrible person.

i can't help but compare myself to others. i can't help but feel almost annoyed at my lack of progress. i know that there's probably nothing wrong, with feeling so aimless. but fuck does it feel wrong. i resent it when i see people who have what i don't. i resent people who are happy, sociable, intellectual, people who know exactly what they want and where to get it. i'v been called a failure. i've been called defective. i've been told there's something wrong with me. people don't like dead things, and i certainly don't feel alive anymore. i feel like a failure for having these emotions. i feel ill.

depression is a disease. trauma is a fucking cancer. and sometimes, i feel like there's no recovery. it doesn't really matter what happens. i don't care if i heal or not, i just want to feel correct. i just want to feel like i'm not some waste of space, like i'm not completely inadequate. i feel like a social villain. just this evil thing, that deserves to be put down, just for the fact that i can't see a future for myself. i'm just some sick bitch that needs to be disposed of.

maybe that's why i always feel like i'm about to get murdered, like some terrible death is going to happen to me, and no one's going to care. because that's what i deserve. i can't keep up with life, and it'll be the end of me one day. i just don't think things will end pretty for me. it's weird. i don't even have hope in my own end.

i'm sick of this feeling. i'm sick of resenting myself. i hate my feelings, but there's this spiteful part of me that just wants to dive into my own illness. to embrace it, to make it my bitch. to revel in the fact that i'm just some unabashedly sad failure, to take pride in the fact that i'll never live a normal life. everyone else is so bright, so alive, so willing to look past every single cruelty that comes their way. and i'm stuck here, in this corner, and part of me loves it. part of me wants to love it, at least.

but i hate it all. i hate myself for even writing this. for posting something as senseless as this to a place that most people won't even give a passing glance. i hate wasting my time, but it's the only thing i know how to do. i hate leaving myself behind.

it's strange. sometimes, i want to scream at the world. i want to demand to be seen as human, even through all my faults. i want to feel sad, and spiteful, and bitter, and i want people to shut the fuck up about it. i want to be cruel, i want to hurt others, and feel nothing in return. i want to lure people in, and stomp on them for fun. i want to repay every evil that's come my way, with something far worse. i hate ideals, i hate sensibility, i hate complexities. i want to be simple, i want to be myself, i want to know that it's okay to feel so destructive. i want to know that it's okay to not know what i want. i want to know that it's okay to want what i want.

i wonder if i genuinely feel that way. i'm starting to ask myself if anything i feel is what i really feel. i don't trust myself. i don't trust anyone.

i feel like i've just fully lost myself. there's nothing left for me to lose, i've just completely fucking lost it.

i dont even know what to write this entry, but i know what to write. i just feel so violently lethargic, too fucking drained to even speak about whats draining me. i feel like i'm ready to pass out. i'm just so sick of myself, i keep having to ask myself what i'm even doing with my life. i'm doing nothing.

the days have been busy, but they all feel like a blur. i can't remember what happened during this week. just bits and pieces, an hour here, a minute there. it's all just flown past me, i feel so disoriented right now. i'm dizzy, but i feel balanced at the same time. i feel like my head is about to fall off of my own shoulders. everything i do disappoints myself, from how i speak, to how i present myself, to how i think. i feel like my body's in pain, but i can't feel it. i don't wanna do anything anymore.

i remember, a few days ago. someone tried to ask me out again. i turned them down. i barely even knew who they were. i envy people like that. people who develop feelings so quickly, people who can feel the most unrealistic things in the most rushed situations. i can't feel that. love's just a concept i haven't gotten a grasp of yet. it feels like every emotion, every feeling, every want and need, every societal norm, is so far away. i feel like i'm so far away from being human. i'm not quite sure how anyone could fall in love with me. let alone someone i've never met before.

i hate this entry. i sound whiny. self-pitying. people use their diaries for better things. they discuss big ideas, big concepts, things they see throughout their everyday life. and i'm here, ready to break down crying, because i can't understand myself. i don't know what spurred this on, i just feel like a horrible person. a horrible, sad excuse of a person. i'm not a good person, i'm not a kind person. i just float through life, and if anyone bothers me, i step out of their way. even if i get angry, i just move aside. i run. i cower in fear, and when they're not looking, i run away as fast as i can.

my eyes feel so heavy. i feel like i'm on my deathbed. like there's so much i have to say, but i never will. like any word i write is going to be my last. i feel like some fleeting thing, like a cloud of smoke that'll dissipate as soon as the wind blows through it.

i wanna know what it's like to feel beautiful. i wanna know what it's like to feel comfortable in life. to know that i'm not going to die. i wish i couldn't die. i wish i could live without a care in the world. i wish i knew what it was like to not feel like everyone in the world despises you.

i dont feel good today. i just dont feel physically well. i'm not in pain, i'm not tired, but my body just feels wrong. i feel restless.

i feel overwhelmed. i was busy this week, too fucking busy. i'm bored out of my mind, but i hate it when i have to do anything nowadays. i don't like it, it makes me feel lazy, or entitled. i just hate this divide in energy, this constant need for action, yet dread whenever i have to deal with anything anymore. it's hard to describe.

i just feel so fucking pent up, i feel like i wanna get on top of some tall building, and scream as loud as i can. i'm angry, i'm irritated, i feel like i'm grieving for something that i never even lost. i want to isolate myself, i want to spew the harshest insults i can think of at everyone and everything i see. i want to run back to my room, shut the door, and drown my ears in music until i can't even hear anything anymore. i don't even think these feelings came on recently, really. they've been building up for the past two months, i'd say. just on and off. i just feel so fucking annoyed.

i'm sick of people. i'm sick of talking to people, seeing people, being around people. i don't know what it is, what happened to me, or why i'm like this. but i feel so avoidant to others nowadays. i hate not being in control of my own interactions, i hate it when people expect something out of me. i hate it when people think i'm normal, yet i hate it when people treat me like an oddity. i hate small-talk, i hate deep conversations. i hate attention, i want to fade into people's memories, and i want them to stay the fuck away from me. i could probably count on my hand the amount of people i've genuinely tolerated or enjoyed being near throughout my entire life. almost everyone i talk to is an annoyance, a formality, something i need to do. and i hate that, i hate being some spiteful, misanthropic bitch. i hate viewing almost everyone who talks to me as some annoying fucking insect, trying to manipulate me and use me for their own fucking pleasure. i hate having that as an instinct. i hate whatever happened to make me like this.

i still wonder how this happened. why i grit my teeth whenever someone strikes up conversation with me, why i have to resist insulting someone whenever they ask me a question, why i sigh in dread the moment i even see another person walking my way. i force myself to act polite, i act cordial, i keep myself, and i act like a functioning person. and it's disgusting.

maybe i'm just irritable in general. i like being alone, i like being isolated, but when i'm isolated for too long, i start whining about how much i want to belong somewhere. i'm as hypocritical as the people who ruined me. what a fucking joke.

i really hate this diary entry. i feel fucking pathetic, even writing something this venomous. i still don't even know if i have a right to feel this hateful, to feel so fucking sad all the time. i got hurt, it's been years since i was hurt, but i feel like i'm hurting every single day. it doesn't make sense, it's been almost 20 fucking years, and it still stings like it happened yesterday. it's obnoxious.

i don't wanna write anymore, i feel like breaking something. i can't bring myself to do much of anything, and if anyone tries to make me, i swear i'll fucking cut them. i'll write something less pretentious next entry, hopefully. i hate writing like this. i hate being such a fucking bitch.

its may already. the years going by too fast.

i dont think i have much to write this time around. my head feels light, and the weeks just kind of been a boring one. sometimes, when nothings particularly happening to me, i end up reminding myself of everything thats happened. i sort of go through this checklist in my head, reminding me that i was hurt. i think i'm terrified of the idea of being undeserving of these thoughts, these emotions. i get this need to reassure myself that i did go through pain, that i am broken, that i was ruined. i just have this strange fear of being seen as "unworthy" of my own sadness.

and yet, when something bad does happen to me, i don't feel any less insecure. it still makes me feel inferior, because it's never as bad as what happened to me. i'm just feeling the aftershocks of my own abuse, but i've never felt that abuse since it faded. i'm not hit anymore, i'm not covered in bruises, i'm not crying in the corner of my room while being forced to listen to words i can't even understand. instead, i'm silenced, i'm forgotten, i'm dismissed as an afterthought to everyone i'm forced to interact with. i'm cowering in fear whenever someone walks past me, i'm holding back tears whenever i have to speak, i'm feeling sick and dizzy every time i wake up. i'm turning my head whenever i see families, i'm clenching my fists in anger whenever someone talks to me, i'm clawing scars into my neck whenever i look at myself in the mirror.

the past will always be the past. my life, my neglect, my pain, is all the past now. it will never be the same. i will never be the same, and my life will never be the same. and i can't even latch onto some fragile comfort of knowing exactly what will happen to me, whenever i have to live through something horrible. i can't shut my door, hide under my covers, and pray that i won't wake up when i go to sleep. and i can't anticipate when someone will open that door, with some kind of weapon, and hit me with it until all i can do is apologize. there's no door to hide behind, no room to run to, no one to hit me. the only enemies i have left are all the memories inside my head.

and i'm pretty ashamed of myself, for this. i'm ashamed of knowing my own limitations, of knowing that there's no future left for me to predict. not even a bad future. maybe the reason my memories replay in my head so much, is because in some twisted way, i find comfort in them. back then, i knew what was happening to me. and i knew that i had a right to feel isolated, to feel hateful, to want to run away and never come back.

but now, i'm just here, as some bitchy excuse of an adult. and no matter what happens to me now, i still feel so unworthy of my own condition. i feel sick, weak, tired, distanced, and unheard every second of the day. but i'm not bleeding anymore, at least not by someone else's hand. and i'm terrified that just because of that, i'm undeserving to even feel this way. to feel feel all the ways my past clings to me.

i remember, i tried going to sleep last night. i closed my eyes, and immediately, i saw this horrible fucking figure, standing through the darkness. she was wearing some long, dark gown. i looked at her, and i couldn't move. i couldn't open my eyes. she was barely even visible. when i opened my eyes, i was shaking, and i felt so fucking dizzy. that wasn't a dream, but i'm scared of what it could be. i'm scared that i'm going fucking crazy.

so, to remedy my boredom and dread from last entry, i made a new page. the dream diary. i post about my dreams there, go check it out, or whatever. idk, its kinda violent. view at your own risk, as always.

sometimes i just feel like i wanna tear my mind apart, and put it back together. just rewire it, reform it, something. i have so much running through my head, and im sick of repeating it all. i could write about things, i could write about feelings, people, emotions, and id feel fucking exhausted writing it.

its a little crushing, seeing so many people make sites, writing things that i cant. hobbies, interests, lifestyles, anything that i dont know how to write about. everything i cant really write about, because i'm too fucking chained to myself. too cowardly and weak to remove my present from my past. it makes me jealous, envious really. everyone can tailor themselves, they can show enthusiasm, depth, nuance. i cant. im not happy, im not artsy, im not philosophical. im a fucking bitch.

and i guess it's a good thing, doing this. writing like this. i'm still expressing myself, i'm still doing what i want. but sometimes, it doesnt feel like it. what i want is to write like i have a life, like im not just some husk reliving memories over and over again. but thats the painful thing, i cant run from what i am. unless i somehow get better, i will never not be this way. and its humbling, i guess. i'll always be in some league below everyone else.

whatever. this is just my inferiority complex acting up again. as much as i whine about my diary being bad, i think id rather write honestly, than force myself to be something im not. i cant write about deep concepts, or about fun things, or even about my day. i can only write about my feelings, and maybe thats okay. i just feel so defeated sometimes, so fucking stuck. maybe its just everything catching up to me, maybe its anger about other things bleeding into this. all i know is that sometimes, i feel dissatisfied, and i dont know how to stop it.

but, again, i dont think its a bad thing that my diary is the way it is. i guess it gives it personality. i know i've been pretty bitchy this entry, but i don't think i hate my diary anymore. i just hate the lingering thoughts i have about it. i'll write something better next time. maybe.

sometimes, i wonder how long everything i put here will really last. i mean, realistically, i can't keep this site up forever. one day, i'll grow out of it, or i'll forget about it, or i'll just abandon it for some other third reason i can't think of. but either way, there's gonna be a time when i'll have to leave this place behind.

i guess i don't really have a problem with that, i can't keep updating this site forever. besides, i can't imagine myself 20 years from now, still whining about the things i post here now. to be honest, i'd rather not still be here, 20 years from now. but, the thought of eventually parting ways with this site still feels a little bitter, for obvious reasons.

the problem is that sometimes, i feel like i'm already dangerously close to that point. i don't really know where to take this site, or what to do with it other than write. i wish i was as invested in the technical side of websites as other people are, maybe then i'd have some new ideas, or something to put here other than my own thoughts. i mean i don't think there's anything necessarily wrong with this site just being my writing, but it still feels a little disappointing, somehow.

idk, sometimes, i just feel like im already too close to leaving this site behind. like ive done everything i wanted to do with it. i don't think i want to abandon my site, but i know i wanna do something new with it. i just can't think of anything new to add, or work on. maybe i just need to come up with more ideas more. idk.

i'll be honest, i don't have the energy to write some big diary entry right now. i'm kinda tired, the week has thoroughly burnt me out. who knows, maybe i'll start work on a new page, hopefully something that will actually be fun and original. i don't want this site to just devolve into three pages regularly being updated. i feel dissatisfied, but i'm not sure if it's with this place, or with myself. or maybe it's both. i just want this site to feel complete when i have to leave it, but right now, it doesn't feel complete. whatever.

would you look at that. as soon as i get the resolve to fix my update schedule, i fuck it up again. why? no reason in particular. i just get silly like that ♡

idk, i don't have much to write again. i should really start actively planning on what to write here, but unfortunately, my life is usually just not that interesting. every diary entry i write feels like a retread of one i've written before. i know i shouldn't expect myself to come up with something new to talk about each and every week, but idk, it's still a little disappointing to me personally. whatever.

i'd say the past few days have sort of been this emotional tug-of-war, if that makes any sense. for like three days now, it feels like for once, my mind is trying to feel some sense of contentment. it's been pretty nice outside, the sun's always shining, the weather's warmer, and it makes me feel nice. i feel even more at-home whenever i'm by myself, the night feels a lot calmer, and every song i listen to sounds so much more meaningful and resonating. it's like my emotions are trying to renew themselves. winter's my favorite season, but this sort of thing always happens around mid-spring, and i actually really like it.

but, every time i almost reach some feeling of contentment, i get pulled away from it. something reminds me of the usual things i think about, or sometimes, the feeling just goes away. it just leaves, and i don't know why. sometimes, that attempt at peace will just turn into sadness, then apathy, and then anger. i really don't like this cycle. it's like even when instinct tells me to walk away from my trauma, i just fucking can't. i can't let my memories go, and they won't let me go. it's this pathetic, parasitc relationship. i get sad because of my thoughts, and my thoughts grow more dangerous because of my sadness. fuck

whatever, idk, i feel like i'm going insane even trying to describe this. fuck i wanna make this entry be about something else. this is just obnoxious.

i feel like every entry's just sort of been in this slump of aimlessness, like it's going nowhere. like i'm going nowhere. there's a lot of weird shit in my head right now that im not sure how to describe. like i feel so drained, but i have some strange anticipation for something. i don't know what that anticipation is for. i feel so lonely, but at the same time, i want to be absolutely isolated right now. it's like i can't even think about my own emotions properly anymore, every time i try to, i'm just met with this unbreakable wall of violent self-loathing. i hope this even makes sense.

whatever. i mean, ive been feeling kinda good these past few days, despite everything. i feel like todays gonna be good, for some reason. idk why, im not used to this feeling.

finally, i'm back to the regular update schedule. no more posting on random weekdays, i think. hopefully.

whatever, i don't have much to write this time. this weeks been pretty weird, i feel irritable as hell right now. like, i just dont have a lot of patience currently, and i'm not really sure why. i think i just feel a bit overworked, or stressed, or maybe it's just the usual depression. whatever it is, it makes me wanna just fucking scream at people, and tell them to leave me the fuck alone. it's really hard, trying to keep myself from slipping into some spiteful, violent mindset towards the world.

like i don't already have a spiteful, violent mindset towards the world. hm.

i really hate it, when i have these bouts of anger. to be honest, i'm always carrying some kind of anger right now. but this is a very strange kind of anger. it's one that makes me feel like i'm just being swung back and forth in terms of my energy. one second, i'll be ready to lash out at anyone i see. the next second, i'll feel exhausted, and ready to pass out. hell, i started writing this entry feeling like i was ready to kill someone, and now, i just feel empty. so fucking empty. i can't even fucking write properly, or cohesively right now. i feel like i'm ready to just fall asleep, and never wake up. i don't wanna think about anything anymore.

my arms feel both heavy and light at the same time, and its starting to get on my nerves. my neck feels tense again, and i just cant keep my thoughts focused. the fact that i'm writing this so late probably has something to do with it, but i've been generally feeling like this all day, and i hate it. i feel trapped, confined, like there's some invisible cage around me that i just can't get out of. i have full control over my body, but it still feels like i'm wrapped in chains.

whatever, i'll try to list some positive things. a few days ago, it was sunny outside. i went out for a bit, it felt nice. i went back to writing more inaccessible poems, and its been helping with writers block a lot. feels a bit more freeing, even if its probably harder to understand now. i'm not quite sure why i find it so hard to write with more casual wording, but thats just how it is, i guess. idk, i dont have anything besides that.

i was gonna write something, but i've completely forgotten what. i feel like i'm in some kind of fucking trance, my vision's getting a bit blurry, and my head feels like an anchor on my neck. i feel so claustrophobic right now, and nothing is keeping me enclosed. my wrists are aching in pain, and i can barely keep my eyes open. i don't feel like sleeping, i feel like just falling over.

and now, i'm starting to get that strange, instinctual feeling again. that desire to be held, to have some kind of positive, physical touch. my legs feel like someones pouring warm water on them, but it's not really in a pleasant way. what the fuck is happening to me, i can't even think straight right now.

so, its april now. this year is going by way too fast, and its starting to make me just a little concerned. i fucking hate existential dread.

whatever, i dont really know what to write here this time. im kinda rushing this entry, really. i dont know, after all of these downer entries, id like to at least write something a bit more nuanced here for once. something that isnt just me having a mental fucking breakdown.

i guess i could talk about poetry again, or something, i dont know. i feel like im in a bit of slump when it comes to writing again. its this feeling of not really knowing how i want my poetry to be read, or if its even readable enough to be read. that probably doesnt make any sense, so i'll explain it a bit more.

i've been experimenting lately, trying to make poems that are a bit easier to look into when it comes to their meaning. it's because i always feel guilty, whenever i write things without a proper meaning, or things that are too abstract. i guess not every poem has to have a meaning, but it feels wrong, making every work an expression of myself, and solely myself. i know that's what poetry should be, and i know that's ultimately what i want my poetry to be, but it still feels wrong somehow.

i dont know, it's just a really suffocating feeling, when your own outlets make you feel inferior. im not some artsy, philosophical person. i dont really know how to make statements through my poetry, or anything with an overarching message. the only thing i know how to do with my writing, is use it to scream at the world when my own voice can't do it.

and i guess that's a good thing, it's what i love about poetry. but i just can't help but feel a little guilty, knowing i can't really detach my writing from myself, in the same way others can. even when i try to write about some topic i find interesting, i always put a piece of myself in it, and it just ends up being violent and depressing.

then again, i'm not really sure if i want to change the style i have now. i don't know if i want to be able to write about anything but myself. i'm just weird like that, i think. it's kinda funny, really. i'm feeling guilty about the exact thing i came to poetry for. hm.

whatever, i dont really know what else to write here. it still feels like the year just started, but i'm already four months in. it's kinda surreal. times a weird fucking thing.

sometimes, i like to look back at my old diary entries, ones from like, three years ago. i think its really funny, how seemingly innocent i was back then, compared to now. i still had the same problems, the same thoughts, the same complexes. but somehow, i seemed more innocent. i dont know what changed me. probably a lot of things. dont read those old entries, btw. they fucking suck lol.

ughhhh i feel so fucking slow writing this, this is the most excruciating entry ive ever written, and its not even about anything that bad. what the fuck.

here it is. todays my birthday, and just like all the others, i hate it. im 19 now, which means i can now get legally married on my own. pretty cool.

but in all seriousness, im 19, and i absolutely fucking hate it now. this is the last year i'll even be able to call myself a teenager, and fuck does that feel crushing. idk, aging has always terrified me. getting older, growing up, all of it scares me, even when i know it shouldnt. im still scared of the same things i was scared of as a kid.

i feel like every birthday just repeats itself for me, i'm always filled with the same emotions, the same feelings, they're always there. next year, i'll probably be heading off to college in some capacity. and fuck, do i dread it. i'm not socially stable enough to handle something like that, let alone intellectually capable. i might write pretty, but i'll be the first one to admit how much of a fucking dumbass i am. there's no way i'd make it in any class, lol.

i don't even know what i'd wanna go to college for, what i even wanna do with my life. i'm still terrified of being an adult, i'm still terrified of fucking living. like maybe i'm just devoid of any ambition, but the idea of having a job, starting a family, doing any of that standard shit, it's horrifying and boring at the same time. i don't know how to describe it properly, i just don't have any care for it. and that scares me too. not caring about anything.

i remember a few days ago, my father told me to act like i was alive for once. it hurt. a lot. but, i can't really blame him for saying that. even if he was the one who fucking made me this way. everywhere i go, i have this same dead look on my face, i can't even put any emotion in the way i carry myself, the way i walk, the way i look at people, all of it. hell, i can't even look at people anymore, i always keep my eyes focused off of them. i can't stand to look people in the eyes. every time i smile or laugh, it's forced, and every time i go outside, i'm shaking in fucking fear. i am a social failure.

really, i dont know how anyone expects me to succeed as an adult, if i still have all of this shit in my head. how am i meant to get my future together when i cant even hold myself together?? every time i look at any member of my family, i feel this rush of horrible memories. every time i look at the sky, i feel this spiteful longing for something else. and every time i look at myself in the mirror, i feel like cutting my fucking face up. i really need to work on that last part especially, every day, i feel like i wanna commit more and more violence towards myself. i can't tell if it's just pent up anger, or some deep-seated resentment towards myself. its probably both.

i hate watching time pass, it feels like every day, everything slips away from me more and more. like i'm gonna lose everything, even though i feel like i don't have anything. i feel like i'm going to die soon, like something's gonna happen, and i won't be able to save myself. i'll just be helpless, as i get murdered, or killed in some horrible accident. i feel like everything around me is going to die, at any fucking second. it's like there's something fucking watching me.

i want to be hopeful about the future, i want to feel like something good will happen to me one day. but fuck, i can't feel it. i can't fucking feel it, i don't know if i can feel anything positive anymore. the only times i feel at peace is when im alone, blasting some shitty music in my ears, while everyone else is asleep. i hate that i still can't get over anything, that i'm still thinking about things that happened fifteen fucking years ago now. i'm still thinking about all the times i've been hit, or insulted, or called worthless. i feel like i never really stopped growing as a person after i turned 15. i've just been fucking stagnant. in a world that's always changing, i'm the same way, always. and i fucking hate it. i need to feel something new, i need to fucking feel better. this depression isn't just crushing, or painful. it's ruthless and monotonous.

im just not who i want to be, and im not who people want me to be either. im just stuck in this stupid fucking in-between state, as a disappointment to myself and everyone else. i just can't seem to catch up to anyone else, to anything else, i'm always behind. i'm stuck in the past, in every sense of the word, and i still dont know how to get the fuck out.

i feel like im falling apart, and im sick of even talking about it. it's not that i don't wanna be happy, it's not that i don't wanna feel alive, i just can't fucking do it. not now, at least.

whatever. i feel like i should end this entry on a positive note at least, considering how much of a bitch ive been through these last few pargraphs. so like, idk. the site just hit 400k views, so thats pretty cool, i guess. thanks for that. ♡

also sorry for delaying this week's entry to today. im kind of disappointed that this entry is sort of just a repeat of the last, i really wish i could talk about different things or different feelings. i'll save that for next entry, maybe. im fucking tired.

one thing i really hate thinking about is the future. i dont know why, but the future has just been on my mind way too much lately. its probably because my birthday is coming up. i dread the fucking day.

i keep feeling like these next few years are going to be my last, like i'm gonna die at any moment. i don't know why, but it's just this constant feeling now, like suddenly, i'm going to die. like everything i know is going to be ripped away from me in seconds, and i won't be able to do anything. it's this really empty feeling, this realization that very soon, everything is going to fall apart. or rather, fall down on me.

a lot of these thoughts are probably related to me turning 19 soon, so i think i'll save most of that for the inevitable birthday entry. once again, i dread the fucking day.

in a way though, it's also got me thinking about the longevity of this very site, to be honest. how long will i tend to this place??? how long will i be satisfied with how this place is right now??? am i even currently satisfied??? who the fuck knows.

i'm starting to hate this site again, i'm starting to hate my entire online presence. to all of the people who say making a website is some eye-opening, must-have experience, go fuck yourself. its not. its a fucking drag, and im proof of that. idk, i just feel this intense urge to just tear this entire site down, and make something else. i dont know if i really want to do that or not, i just have the impulse to do so. i dont know if its any actual sense of artistic dissatisfaction, or if its just my instincts acting up again. i feel like tearing down everything in my life right now. i have so much i need to do, and i dont want to deal with any of it.

i always feel weak, or tired, or just fucking out of it. i've got this horrible fucking cough now for some reason, and it won't go away. it hurts to even fucking speak right now, and i'm really hoping i'm not sick or some shit. i just wanna fucking lay down, and not have to worry about anything, or anyone, or even myself. i feel trapped, angered, annoyed, like something is just constantly pressing it's weight onto me. i resent everything, and i resent having to act like i dont resent everything. im just so sick of having to deal with anything anymore. i want to desert myself on some remote island where no one else can find me. and i'll die there, i'll fucking die there.

and it's weird, because a few days ago, it was the opposite. i felt so fragile, so fucking delicate, i needed someone else's touch. i don't know why, but for that entire day, i just kept holding myself, begging for that feeling to stop, hoping to be in someone else's arms. i don't know what the fuck happened. i don't know why i had that instinct. i just needed to be held by someone, and i don't know why.

i wish i knew more about myself, i wish i was strong enough to leave my impulses behind and get to know myself. but, i don't really care about myself. i'm the most selfish person i know, and yet, i really don't care about myself at all. if there's anyone who hates me, it's me.

do all of my entries have to be like this?? just fucking edgy slop??? ughhh i wanna write something else but i just fucking cant. lifes a fucking bitch, and so am i.

i hate my personality. i really, really hate my personality. i hesitate saying i hate myself, because even though its true, it sounds a bit too cliche and bitchy for my liking. granted, im pretty cliche of a person, and im no doubt a bitch, but i still have my standards.

i dont know, ive just felt very disapproving of myself lately. i hate myself, how i think, how i talk, how i carry myself. im constantly stuck between wanting to be a better person, and wanting to just give myself up. every time i have to talk to someone, i have to act proper, polite, fucking prissy. so accepting of everyone and everything, when really, all i wanna fucking do is lash out. i want to allow myself to feel anger. i want to sigh in annoyance when someone talks to me, i want to shout insults at someone whenever they say shit i don't like, i wanna fucking strangle anyone who's ever hurt me. i feel guilty, guilty that i feel so fucking unstable. so fucking violent. and yet, i still come off as some scared, shy fucking bitch to everyone. that, or i cant show anything at all. i have to just sit and nod, stand and stare at the ground, listen to whatever pointless fucking bullshit im forced to hear.

i want to become more isolated. i want to ruin myself, i want to fucking ravage my own mind. and i hate that, because at the same time, i want to be this quiet. i want to be this pathetic, this fucking low. its called wanting to be someone better, and i hate myself for that. i hate that i cant be fucking consistent anymore, i cant decide on how i want to perceive myself, let alone how i want others to perceive me.

i need to just calm down, i think. its late, and i should let that soothe me. honestly, the only fucking time i ever feel safe anymore is at night, when everyones gone away. im always alone, and yet, night-time is the only time that loneliness ever comforts me. fuck.

ive just felt really confused and wound up lately, and that scares me. even this fucking diary i get sick of. i wanna write about nice things, positive things, but i fucking cant. everything i write, even in my poetry, ends up being something sad, or negative. i cant fucking rip myself away from my own mental illness. i hate living like this, in constant fear, in constant dissatisfaction.

i think im a little calmer now, after writing this disaster of an entry. i dont know, im just worn out. my body's always hurting, i never eat right, i never sleep right, and everything makes me angry now. i need to just slow down, and take life in for a change. fuck.

march is here. march is already fucking here, holy shit. it felt like the year just started yesterday. hm.

i'm not doing very well, right now. this past week was not a good one. i don't even know where to fucking start, i just feel so fucking ruined. i hate this feeling, this feeling of helplessness, like there's nothing i can do to take away my own emotions. i'm just stuck the way i currently am, for the time being. i want to get these feelings out of my head, but they never fucking leave. they're always there.

i don't want to go into much of what happened this week. all i'll say is that someone told me some very hurtful things, on purpose. and i'm still reeling from it, i'm still fucking reeling from it. through the entire time since, i've been walking around with this burning fucking feeling in my chest. some fucked up mixture of hatred, and shame. every time this happens to me, i get sent back to my childhood. i remember my legs lined with bruises, my mother's hands clasped around my neck, my father saying i'm the biggest disappointment of his life. i'm sick of being reminded of everything, of being told over and over that i'm not worth anything. i don't like living up to what everyone says i am.

all my life, i've just been a toy for people to play with. something to throw around. and i hate that. i hate it that everyone's right about me, that i am just some worthless fucking bitch. some stupid, useless whore. i hate that. i hate that feeling, i hate feeling like i'm not even comfortable with my own fucking life. everyone's always threatening to kill me, and honestly, a good part of me wants them to.

i keep resisting the urge to just claw at my own skin, to punch a wall and hear my fist crack on impact. i don't like the idea that everything i've been through was all for nothing. that really, none of it is worth anything at all. that i didn't do go through anything, and that anything i did go through, was something i deserved. something i brought upon myself, through my own incompetency. i dont want to think that even after all the hurt i've endured, i'm still the fucking villain. i'm still a horrible, horrible person.

my thoughts are getting more intrusive, and more violent. every time i see someone from the back, i just think how easy it'd be to just stab them. they wouldn't be able to fight back, and if they did, it wouldn't mean much. every time i see someone cry, i have to hold in my own laughter, i have to stop myself from demanding them to feel even more pain. and every time i get angry, i have to stop myself from going to my nearest mirror, and trying to see how much of a mess i can make out of myself. i don't like living right now.

a few days ago, i looked up at the sky, and thought to myself. that no matter how i die, i'll never change. i'm incapable of changing, i think. no matter how violent my head gets, and now matter how much i scream at myself, telling myself to just run away from everything, i will always sit through every wrong the same way. in silence, with some pathetically demure look on my face, while i fight back the urge to just start fucking crying. i feel like one day, someone's going to murder me. i don't know why.

i hate writing this. i don't want to sound self-pitying, i don't want to sound dramatic. i'm only being honest. i'm being honest when i say that there are days where all i can think about, is my own fucking spite. i want to put all of my belongings in a bag, move to some remote mountain, and have no one find me. i want to find some old, isolated desert road, and just start walking. i want to throw myself into the ocean, and never resurface.

i feel like i'm falling asleep, while writing this. my leg is throbbing in pain right now, and it has been for the past two days. it's a cold, dark night, and i just wanna run out there, and never fucking come back. i feel pathetic. i feel like i've been drugged.

sorry for how much i crashed out in the last entry. fuck i was just not into it that morning. hm.

idk, i dont really feel up to writing rn either. i never feel good in the mornings anymore, every time i wake up, i feel sick as fuck. i hate this feeling, and i dont know why it happens. i should probably be eating more, but i know i wont lol. even now i feel just fucking nauseous, i wanna just lay down and bedrot like the dumb bitch i am. my head hurts, and i never feel like i can tolerate anything anymore. the only time when i dont feel physically exhausted is when im by myself, and even when that happens, i just get overwhelmed by my own fucking intrusive thoughts again. i dont like this.

ive been thinking about regrets a lot lately, i dont know why, but a lot of stuff i regret in my past has just been coming back to me. i hate this feeling. regret's a very helpless feeling, its this constant acknowledgement that you couldve done something, but you didnt. a never-ending reminder that you gave up control, and that youll never get it back. and i feel it all the fucking time now. i keep thinking on things i regret, and i wish i could stop.

what wouldve happened had i said something different to that person?? what wouldve happened if i had just did what i wanted to do that day?? what wouldve happened had i paid more attention to that other person?? i feel like a fucking failure, and all ive been doing lately is just thinking about failures. i want it out of my head.

i dont even feel like writing anything that goes into these feelings deeper, its exhausting. then again, i dont know what to write about right now that isnt that. i could write something more positive, but then it'd make the mood of this entry feel disjointed. why do i even try to approach my diary entries with a plan for how theyre meant to be read?? this is fucking dumb.

i feel like tearing my hair out yknow. idk, at least its a decent day outside. its dark, its rainy, its gonna rain a shit ton this week, and i like it. i like days like this, where everything looks so cold and lifeless. its oddly beautiful, i just like it when something as bright as nature looks so drained instead. i dont know if im making any sense here, but i just think its a neat aesthetic. whatever.

i really feel like im just rambling now. i feel like im going crazy, i really hope what im saying even makes sense right now. i have this really tense fear of being misunderstood, but at the same time, i dont want anyone to understand me. im just fucking weird like that, i guess. i need to go fucking lay down.

i may or may not have forgotten to make a valentines entry this year. i was gonna write something really scathing about relationships, and how awful of a partner i've been in the few relationships i've ever had, but i don't feel like writing something that angsty or self-indulgent two days after the holiday it'd be appropriate for. plus, i dont like talking about my love life. makes me feel really bad things.

to be honest, i dont feel like writing anything too heavy, considering how brutal last entry was for me to write. i'm usually not in a good state whenever i write here, but last entry especially. whatever, i know i'm still gonna rant about the same old shit as always. i'm really starting to get sick of this diary. to be honest, i've felt sick a lot lately.

yesterday, i spent a lot of time just thinking to myself, wondering what the fuck i'm even doing with my life. not even in an ambition sort of sense, just a general sort of sense. i just have moments like this, where suddenly, everything everyone's ever said to me floods back to me all at once, and all i can think of is how they were all probably right. from things as small as random insults, to what my parents did to me, i remember all of it, and i fucking hate it. it makes me feel fucking sick, like there's thirty voices in my head, all whispering the same bullshit i've heard across the past 18 years. pretty soon it's gonna be the past 19 years. that fucks with me too.

i'm insecure about everything, and yet, i always feel this biting sense of over-confidence, i feel fucking nauseated by everything and everyone else now. i don't wanna be a hateful person, maybe i just need a fucking break. i can't even think straight right now, i feel too fucking pressured. i hate this stupid fucking disease. thats what it feels like, a disease in my fucking head.

sometimes, i just wanna get on the roof of some big fucking building, and scream as loud as i can. and then, i'd jump off, and it'd be fucking horrible. i just need to let off some steam right now, i'm pretty irritable this morning. maybe this is why people have their coffee in the morning. oh well.

i'll write something more nuanced than this next week, probably. i can't be bothered to do so right now, i'm in too much of a bad mood.

had a pretty bad night last night. i spent a good hour, on my knees beside my bed, crying into my blankets. i just felt so horrible, so broken, so weak and hideous. it's been a long, tiring week. i just feel so used, so worthless, like some fragile burden. i don't even feel hate or spite, like usual. it's just constant fear, constant sadness, and constant dread. every time i go outside, i feel cold, and weak, like it's hard to even step out the door. every time i go to sleep, i just lay there for a half hour, shuddering in fear, like someones stalking me. i feel like i'm being hunted, like something horrible is about to happen to me. or rather, like something horrible has already happened.

i don't know how to describe it, it's just this horrible sense of unease, or of fear. like i'm hated, like i've been abandoned, like i've been rejected. i keep thinking back on all these things that happened to me, all these terrible things i can't remember, and so many memories that i wish i couldn't remember. i keep thinking to everything that's happened recently, every bitter word spoken to me, every death i've witnessed, every person who's left me behind. i keep thinking about dying, about how i'm going to end up dead, brutalized in some horrible way. i feel like i'm mourning my own existence, and no matter how many times i try to claw out of that grieving feeling, it always pulls me back into it.

even when i feel good, theres something that reminds me. theres something that grounds me, and it makes me feel sick. i dont like being this unstable, because in terms of events, nothing devastating has happened recently. no life-changing events, but i still feel like i'm just decaying. i'm driven to tears if i even think on my situation for more than a few minutes, and the scars i give myself seem to sting whenever i think about bad things, even if they shouldnt give me pain anymore. i feel fucking haunted.

throughout this week, and last week too, i've had this weird recurring dream. i'm in a house i used to live in, or rather, it's this weird mix of rooms from houses i used to live in. everything's dark, my vision's lighting is like a camera flash in a dark room. it's cold, or at least, it looks like it'd be cold. i always have to walk up this rickety set of stairs to reach my room, and all across the house are stolen toys i either had as a kid, or wanted as a kid. sometimes, the dream will even have a section where i have to steal the toys, usually in strange places in some sort of store.

the scary thing is my room in these dreams. i always seem to go to my room in these dreams, like theres no other rooms in the house. it's always extremely dark, darker than the rest of the house. there's no lighting, save for this blue glow coming off of a laptop in the room. the laptop has a virus, and it scares me. sometimes, it'll enter this countdown mode, and it terrifies me. i don't know what it's counting down to, but i know it's something bad. i always run out of the room right before it hits, and even when it's not in that mode, i don't like staying in that room for long.

other times, it'll just be this black screen, but there'll be music playing. usually, it's songs i like, but extremely wrong. they'll be loud, and angrier, and they'll have this almost ear-piercing amount of fuzz to them. the vocals will sound like screeching, but like the original vocals at the same time. it's so fucking loud, too. sometimes it'll even be accompanied by these really fucking weird visuals. occasionally, it'll just be these horrible, flashing lights, like white and red strobes. it really fucking hurts my eyes. other times, it'll be this face painted in white lines, distorting itself in really disturbing ways. it's eyes are sharp and narrow, and it's constantly moving, and it'll sometimes do this gesture as if it's ripping it's own jaw off. it looks like it's always talking, but it never makes any discernable noise, save for this extremely loud screaming. it's like a strange combination of guitar feedback, a malfunctioning computer, a woman screaming, and nails on a chalkboard. i hate it.

other times though, when the laptop plays music, the music will be calming. it'll be echoey, and quiet. it's soothing, really soothing actually. but it's terrifying too, because it's such an unnerving thing still. like, it's comforting me, in this twisted, evil way. i don't like it, but when it does it, i find myself staying in that room for longer than usual.

probably what i hate the most about these dreams is when the laptop starts displaying text. i really hate it. sometimes, the laptop's screen will just change to these constantly changing walls of text. the text is always written in this very stilted way, like someone who doesnt know english very well. it always writes these really vague and horrible things though, involving some sort of failure, and something inescapable. sometimes it'll just be random words jumbled together, but usually it's something alluding towards dying, being trapped, or being a failure. i can never really read everything the words say, because of how quick the screen moves, but i can always make out really troubling words. the most i remember is when it began to ramble about a woman trapped in a cage, and that really fucked me up.

i hate these dreams, and i don't want to have them anymore. i know it's probably just my subconscious fucking things up, making me dream about all this scary shit. it's just still disturbing, because i've never had dreams this personal before. i've had fucked up dreams, but none of them hit as close to home as this. none of them are as unsubtle as this. it's terrifying, and i don't want to have these dreams again. they definitely aren't helping to take away this feeling of fear and rejection.

i don't know what i'm saying anymore, this entry kinda went off the rails. whatever, i didn't have much to say this time anyway. i'm just tired, and i feel alone. very alone.

its february already. still feels like 2025 just started, but we're already 2 months in. feels like everythings been moving a lot faster, tbh. or maybe i just cant catch up to life anymore. whatever.

again, i dont really know what to write here tbh. i get sick of this feeling when it comes to my diary, i always want to write something, but then i never get any fucking ideas. i just end up repeating the same depressing shit i always say. sometimes, i wish i was like, an actually smart or deep person so i could at least have some interesting concepts or emotions to talk about. unfortunately, i'm just a dumb bitch who's only talent is writing about feeling sad. yippee.

idk, ive just been feeling easily irritable again. feels like all i want to do sometimes is just do what i want, by myself. but then i have to deal with responsibilities, or other people, or some other obnoxious third thing i can't think of right now. i still have free-time, but it doesn't feel like it, and so i feel guilty for having this sense of burnout. giving yourself away to things you don't care about is just what being an adult's all about, i guess.

i just feel like every day repeats itself, sometimes. always the same issues, the same shitty people i have to barely talk to, the same work i have to rush myself through, it makes me feel like a failure. whatever, i'm doing what i have to do, and this is probably just me being too bitter again. i just feel so annoyed all the time.

in general, i feel like i'm getting some sense of self-loathing more and more often. i still think i'm inadequate, i'm not who i should be, or who i wanna be. but, it's more than that, it's like i'll never be enough for myself, like no matter what happens, i will never achieve what i want to be. i don't even know what kind of person i want to be, but i get the sense that i'm never gonna get there. that my life is wrong, and it'll never be right. whatever.

also, i just looked out my window, apparently it fucking snowed last night?? just barely, at least. i usually never get snow, which is a shame, so it's kinda neat to see it right now. it's just like a thin layer of it, but it's still there. only downside to this is that all day i'm gonna have to hear the obnoxious sounds of snow shovels, and kids in my apartment complex playing outside. two sounds i absolutely fucking resent. ♡

oh well, i don't have much else to say right now. just the usual shit. i feel bad, i hate myself, life pisses me off, all the things i always talk about. i hope i can get over this writers block eventually, because fuck this is getting annoying.

nothing interesting happened this past week. nothing really, its kind of obnoxious. hm. might as well talk about poetry again.

ive noticed that my relationship with poetry is one thats always sort of changing, because no matter how much i write, it never really feels like enough. there are so many different ways to write about just one feeling, or experience, and none of those ways feel adequate enough. its addicting, almost, like im always looking for the best way to express what i want to say in a poem. and no matter how much i write, i can never find that 'best way'.

it's kinda difficult to describe, but sometimes, it feels like i'm always writing, but never getting anywhere. sometimes, i'll look over something i've written, and just sigh. it felt so emotive when writing it, but when i look at the finished product, it just looks like a bunch of nonsense. just pretty words that mean nothing, but at the same time, mean everything to me. i don't know how to describe it, it's just very surreal.

i don't think i have writers block, at least?? it's pretty easy to write things, i just often feel like a poem's not enough after i've written it. there are very few poems i've written recently that i felt fully proud of, that felt like they were saying exactly what i wanted them to say. maybe i need to be more direct in how i write, or maybe i need to go back to being more cryptic. whatever.

at the very least, i am pretty proud of the poems attached to this week's update. i think they said what i wanted them to say, which is pretty cool. i really hope i don't sound crazy writing this entry, my point here is probably kinda hard to make out. oh well.

i was gonna write about something more personal this entry, but its been a long week, and im tired. really tired. maybe i'll save it for next week, i guess. idk.

tbh, writing here has been pretty difficult in general the past few weeks. i feel like i dont have much to say lately, or at least anything "original". yeah, i could talk about the usual depression shit. i could talk about spite, hatred, sadness, loneliness, all the things i always write about. but thats boring, or at the very least, i dont want my diary to seem boring. i dont want my diary to be about the same things, over and over.

but it feels like it is, and while i know thats not particularly a bad thing, it feels like a bad thing to me. i feel like im defined by my condition, lifted up by the very weakness that keeps me down. i wish i could be more, i wish i could have things to say, or things to care strongly about. but im just stuck here, repeating myself, discussing tired emotions that feel more tired every time i mention them.

i wish i could be like other, safer websites. some people dedicate their diaries to simple things in their daily life. places they went to, foods they ate, people they met, etc. some people dedicate their diaries to things theyre passionate about. media, art, politics, etc.

i dedicate my diary to the things i hate, the things i feel horrible about, the things i wish i could run away from. and i think thats sad, i want to be more positive, but ive never been that type of person. no matter what, it feels like i cant feel upbeat, no matter how hard i try.

the other day, my father started lecturing me again, as disappointed and annoyed as usual. he paused midway, turned to face me, and told me i looked like i was ready to break down and cry. there were nothing in his eyes but venom, an oblivious, yet scathing annoyance. i lied, told him i was just tired, and ran away once he was done. he never questioned me further. it was a strange thing. one of those experiences where it happens, but it still feels like a dream only minutes after. one of those experiences that makes you feel like the most pathetic fucking creature in the world. i suppose i showed too much of myself there.

and here i am, going on again. bitching, like the bitch i am, about things and feelings and thoughts that i've had before. i can never fucking shut up about this damn disorder. that's what this feels like, a disorder, like my brain's fucking hardwired to feel nothing but sadness and resentment. i can't remove myself from it, because everything to me ties back to what i feel. it's just a very dreadful feeling, like a wound that never heals. it never even scars, it's just always there, bleeding, and festering. and every movement makes it swell with even more pain.

i need a break from these feelings, from these impulses, from life itself.

btw, that personal stuff mentioned at the beginning of this entry is coincidentally what i ended up talking about anyway. fuck. there goes my idea for what i was gonna write next entry, i guess. time to scramble to find an original thought for next time!! fuck its exhausting trying to feel comfortable with yourself

whatever, i'll get over this. probably??

nothing much to write here, just the usual things. feels like its always the same thing to write here, always something wrong, never anything normal.

idk, this is just one of those nights where i feel especially worn down. it's been a long and hectic week, but at the same time, it feels like nothing happened. really, nothing did. i just feel so demotivated, if that's a word. ok i just looked it up it is a word smh

but in all seriousness, i lack so much energy, and its starting to get a little debilitating. it hurts to even get out of bed some days, like i physically dont even wanna face the day ahead of me. my tinnitus feels like it's been getting worse recently, it feels louder when things are quiet. i don't like that, i don't like thinking about it, because i always feel like it's driving me crazy. i hate this damn ringing, so fucking much. i wanna get rid of it.

i feel like theres just so much i cant do, so much i want to be, but so little at the same time. i still have that feeling that something's wrong, that things aren't the way they should be, that i'm not the person i should've been. that i'm not living the life i expected, or the life i wanted. a few days ago, i just laid in bed, waiting to go to sleep. i couldn't, i just kept thinking about living. i kept thinking about the normal things a person goes through. go to college, meet someone nice, get a job, get married, die when you're old, all the things that are absolutely terrifying to me. all the things i never thought i'd have, and the things i don't think i'll ever have. it's a scary, complicated thing to explain, idk.

i'm just still so scared of living. i remember, when i was about 14, i decided that if things didnt work out by the time i was 25, i'd kill myself. i dont know if i'm gonna go through with that plan. i really don't know. i just know that with each passing day, and with each intrusive thought, and each sad memory, and each hour wasted, im getting closer and closer to the day i'll eventually have to decide on how i want my life to end. living's scary, i'm not prepared to do anything, to be anything. i can't be anything, i can't be a normal person. sometimes, i wonder if the only thing wrong with me is my own existence.

i think i'm just writing a little too frantically again. i don't have much to say this time, i feel bad for just ranting about the usual things. i want to write about other things, but i don't have anything else to really talk about.

writing in this diary can be a fucking drag sometimes. i don't always have something heavy or emotional to write, but i don't know how to say anything here except those parts of my life. otherwise, this diary would be pretty boring, in my opinion. my life's not very eventful, or interesting. i don't have a social life, and my hobbies are very boring and standard and a little embarrassing. it's hard to be like everyone else, when you're as stagnant as me. my entire diary hinges on the fact that there is something wrong with me, and i think that's sad.

i think its kinda funny, looking back on early diary entries from a few years ago. i seemed so innocent almost, its a little cute. ive noticed my diaries kinda shifting into this more even tone ever since about last year, and i dont really mind it. i just think it's a little interesting that i became so much more honest here, in such a short amount of time. i really wish my relationship with this diary was a normal, healthy, typical one. whatever.

i feel like i say this every entry, but sorry if this one feels a little all over the place. i just don't know what to say, but at the same time, i feel like i'm ready to just break. i dont like this feeling, this numb sort of tension. i think i just need to relax a little bit more.

and now, back to the usual weekly update schedule. bi-weekly updates are stressful and i hate them. ♡

i dont really know what to write here, this time. this weeks been pretty uneventful, already. i cant think of anything to write here that i don't usually write in this diary anyway. i'm kinda sick about talking about depression, or sadism, or anxiety right now. i wanna talk about something else, but i don't have anything else going on.

its sort of why i've always had this insecurity about my diary, about how people will read it, and just think i'm a horrible, fucked up person. like i'm someone who can't ever be normal, or casual, just always someone stuck in-between some state of anger and sadness. in a way, i genuinely agree with that assessment of me. i just dont like people reading me that way, for some reason. maybe i just dont like people telling it to my face, or something. im scared of people hating me, or thinking i'm a monster. granted, i have been called scary quite a few times, and while its kinda funny, i see where they're coming from. i guess i don't really come off as personable, or at least online.

i actually had a dream last night, that sort of pertains to this. i dont really remember anything else in it, besides my mother saying she hated me, straight to my face. i woke up as soon as she said it, and honestly, it's probably been the most unnerved ive felt from a dream in a while. it felt real, i guess. too real, tbh.

i still dont really know what to write here, really. i feel like this entry is probably gonna come off as really stilted. whatever.

at the very least, im planning to get some more updates done here. maybe add a few more experimenal pages, or something. idk, im kinda out of ideas for new things to add. my site feels finished, even though its not, and i hate that. i wanna do something more, i think. the only question is if i'll actually have the free time to do more. or the motivation. hmhm.

so, 2025 is here. idk, i don't really have much to say this time. i'm mostly just writing this entry out of obligation, i said most of what i wanted to say back in the new year's eve entry. please read it if you havent.

i'll be honest, once the clock hit midnight, i just couldn't help but feel so empty. its strange, i just experienced this really crushing sense of boredom, as soon as it turned to midnight. i was feeling a little hopeful before that, but it instantly went away. i don't really know why, to be honest.

oh well. this year, i have a lot of things i wanna do. i wanna play more games, watch more anime, and just generally tend to my hobbies more. maybe get into some more bands, listen through more albums. i wanna try being less distant, or cold, or spiteful. i wanna be more even-tempered, and less sensitive. maybe ill even try to give a relationship a try, idk. i doubt ill be able to achieve any of those things, but i wanna try it. its not like i have much to lose, after all.

i wanna be more positive about myself this year, but i doubt i will. i wanna be more comfortable with myself, i wanna feel happier, and i wanna feel more independent. i want to see myself as beautiful, not broken. again, i doubt i'll get to that point. but i wanna try to get to it.

whatever, i'm probably just gonna spend this year crying and listening to music, just like last year. some things never change. ♡