What

All of my anger feels so unreal to me now.
How can it be that I was angry?
How can I have the capacity to have cared that much?

You are simultaneously the realest and most unreal thing to ever flicker into my existence.

I'm starting to realize

that I have strong dissociative tendencies and it is Really Not Good.

When I look back on my life
And the recent destruction
I realise that everything is just a repeating cycle:
- Me feeling generally inhuman
- Meeting someone who wants to talk to me
- Me projecting a specific personality in order to communicate with that person
- Me projecting that personality because then at least I can feel something and I have someone to care about
- Me projecting that personality because it gives me a sense of stability in knowing who I am
- We have an enjoyable friendship or relationship
- We are actually really close
- The projection eventually crumbles because its too hard to sustain
- I go back to being a non-person
- I literally give zero fucks about that person anymore because I am literally unable to care
- I cut them out of my life
- They keep wanting to reconnect but I can no longer give any fucks



You tell me not to project
You tell me not to do that with you
I tell you that I will try

I will try.

Mourning

My grandpa had a stroke
My cousins wept
Intelligent and beautiful and functional.
We know he will not survive this
My brother and I exchanged glances -
Are we monsters for not crying?
I say to my groupmates,
I'm sorry I have to go.
They look more horrified than I ever can.
My brother reports the same.
I hope my grandpa passes on -
It's what he would have wanted.
I know this.
I only want peace for him.
Are we monsters for not crying?
I am afraid
I am afraid of finding out
That when we stand in the middle of his funeral
We will be the only ones dry-eyed

How will I mourn my lovers
My cat
My dreams
My parents??

This is not a poem this is just thinking out loud

That night by the pool
No - those two entire weeks -
When I felt nothing
You did not deserve it of me
You did not deserve my silence
And I am sorry.

End of Uni Y1, Halfway Through Holidays

Again, here's the customary "wow I haven't written anything in a long time".

I feel like I'm kind of losing myself. It's the holidays but I haven't been drawing or writing as much as I used to. I had so many things I was supposed to do but somehow lost the motivation.
I'm not even as eloquent as I used to be, and this frustrates me immensely because language is the vehicle of thought, etc etc.

I don't really know why I came back to this blog. Maybe it's cause I was reading through Ian's. But I don't really have anything in particular I'd like to say here. Just wanted to yell into the cyberspace void once more, like I used to. I've stopped using social media as an outlet for announcing random inane frustrations because that's incredibly retarded and nobody wants to see that. Feels cathartic, though.

I feel so tired.
I can sleep for as long as I want and the eyebags won't leave me.

I recently screwed up a social encounter pretty bad. I thought by now I'd have sorted out how to at least pretend to be functional in front of stranger adults, but newp.
Feel so alienated all the time. From adults, from peers, from children.
Is it somehow objectively wrong to be instinctively reclusive? Is it some sort of aberration from the 'correct' way to be a decent person/citizen/whatever? I'm not being rhetorical.

I realise that scrolling through all the posts on this blog is extremely depressing. Why is it that I only have things to say when I feel negatively? Maybe writing is just the way negative thoughts manifest themselves. Positive thoughts manifest more constructively, through various projects and stuff. Wonder if it's the same for others.

There was a dream.

A fantasy.
A fantasy so fragile and tenuous and achingly beautiful that it could never have existed.
And when it came close to reality it couldn't quite make itself real.
And so it vanished once more.
Like it could never exist at all if I dared to touch it, because it was so delicate.
But beautiful it was.

I am not sad because I couldn't make it happen.
I am sad because nothing I could have done would ever have made it happen.

I can have but a shadow of it.
And I suppose that that as far as reality is concerned, that is more than I could have hoped for.

New chapter

Haven't posted here in a while (I think I say that every time I post here. Not sure, I don't remember anymore). But I had to get some stuff out and nobody really reads this blog anyway so I guess it's okay.

Uni is starting next month and I just came back from my first orientation camp. Being there felt surreal. And coming home felt like waking up from a nightmare. It was so socially stressful that I got my period a second time this month.
By the end of JC, I had come a long way from who I was before. I thought I was secure in my self-image; I thought I had sorted out all my confidence issues (thanks to some very supportive friends); I thought I knew who I was and I liked it. All of that was torn down in 4 days. It was like starting from scratch, I had nothing, it felt like I was nothing. I thought that I was my own person and that that belonged to me. But it doesn't. I realised that I was reliant on the people who meant so much to me in NJ, and that there is a part of me that they each helped to create, and that without them, I can't access it. It doesn't unlock. It just doesn't work. I am only as good as people expect me to be. And when a group of strangers expects nothing, I stay nothing.
I can't relate to my OG culture and I don't really have anything to say to them. As far as they know, after 4 days I'm just an antisocial noob who has a pikachu shirt, a monotonous voice, and a smartphone addiction (every year I find a different crutch. Last year it was crochet, this year it's Twodots on Android). Just the same as JH1. Being myself bores people. I'm really glad I'll have Maggie and Flea in my OG for the next camp, but what really scares me is the notion that when you take away external forces, that's all I am. An insecure Ball O' Negativity and social anxiety.

I am very grateful to my friends (including boyfriend) for expecting the best of me.

That's all.

Void

Yes, this is going to be a post-A's reflection or whatever. Predictable, aren't I?

The A levels were depressing before, during and after. What can I say?

Math was one of the first exams, and as I sat there holding my thin stack of paper to be handed up, it all seemed so pathetic. Here was 6 years of pain and hatred for a subject irrelevant to my life, just sitting there. In a small pile. The result of 3 hours no different from any mock test.

And then as the month went by it seemed less trivial and more wearisome. There was no triumph after any paper, only a growing sense of burden knowing what had passed and what was to come. If there was anything to celebrate, it was only that I'd never have to see these grey walls again, and I could finally be free to be grey somewhere else.

The liberation I felt as the last paper passed was short lived. I expected an uplifting freedom in finally being allowed to pursue the things I had anticipated over the past year. A whole to-do list once the big thing was over. Instead I find nothing but a void. Worse, I find only more anxiety over the future, restlessness even when trying to be productive, and guilt whenever I feel idle.

As of now I'm dealing with this sinking feeling by crocheting some cacti for my art teachers while watching Daria deal with the petty politics of a world that that undoubtedly caricatures mine.

Sometimes I think that I'm ultimately afraid that once the burden of school work is stripped from me, I'll discover that I really am just an escapist hobby artist who doesn't care as much for personal fulfillment as I think I do, and that deep down I'd really just like to live off my parents.

There is no artistic vision. I just complain about things and mock them.

Back to the cacti.

Sorry for being depressing.