• I'm just tired today.
2024/09/18 12:05
I woke up from another bad fucking dream today. I hate waking up crying. Waking up from a nightmare feels like my BPD-brain is trying to still find a way to hurt me. Of course I know that's not true. My dreams are just silly manifestations of my subconscious (more so now, than a few years ago) insecurities of loss.
I think I’ve demonized my BPD a lot. I suppose that’s normal, considering how much space it used to take up in my life. It used to control me, pulling me in all directions while being lost itself. It dictated everything I did and said.
But now, I’ve come to realize she’s not some otherworldly being lurking deep within me anymore. She’s no longer screaming in my ear that I’m unloved when I’m trying to sleep. She’s not telling me what to take offense at, what to feel sad about, who to love, or how to do it. She’s no longer a wildcat, scratching at anyone who reaches out. She’s not my perpetrator. She's not my grandmother. She's not my mother, anymore. She doesn’t seek comfort in the arms of strangers, in allowed violence, or in blood. She no longer threatens to end the world.
She’s me. She sleeps beside me, restless, easily woken by sounds, but calmed by a hand against a cheek. I can speak with her, reason with her, teach her how to do things differently.
My mood is low, though. Even though my bpd doesn't dictate as much, it can still throw me off. Tomorrow, I’m going back to work after 19 days off, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I keep thinking I should find a new job.
trigger warning: talks of suicide, mental illness
• Dear E
2024/09/11 21:35
I know that life hasn’t been kind to you. Life has punched you in the gut, kicked you, spat on you, mocked and laughed at you. I don’t know how you’ve survived, but I’m glad that you did. I’m sorry that I’ve prioritized other things over you, caught up in my own world. I regret that I haven’t been able to take care of you as much as you might have needed. It sounds harsh, but you don’t really have anyone else but me. You had your mother, but she couldn’t take care of you the right way. She never could. And now, as an adult, you’ve made the same decision I once made with my own mother—to distance yourself.
I’m proud of you, for standing back up, always, always. Even after everything, you dare to speak of hope and imagine a life where you can feel joy. I hope you’re not angry with me. I know you’re angry with your mother, and you have every right to be, but I’m not sure if you’re justified in disappearing completely. I’m not sure if you have the right to not respond for five hours when I text you and tell you that I'm worried, or when I call you more than ten times, fearing that you've decided to die. I don’t know if you’re allowed to do that after saying that you don't have the will to continue. I don’t know if that’s okay. You can do it, of course, but I’m so fucking sad that you did. It hurt me more than when you asked if I was one of those who had hurt you, stemming from your delusions.
Though you're not entirely settled in the same existence as me and most other people, I've been where you are, though not as extreme. And yet, I was never as hopeful, or wise. I'm so fucking proud of you. But I don’t know how to reach you when you shut down and lock yourself away. I don’t know how I’m expected to act in situations like this. I don’t know how to reach you. I hope you'll answer my call tomorrow. Please.
• Rotting
2024/09/07 01:21
All I did today was code and search obscure websites and looking at images for inspiration.
But I keep getting stuck just looking, saving, and categorizing. Once I set up a page for cool links,
it's over for y'all. (joking, I find most stuff by clicking around on various pages on neocities but yeah I'll definitely make a link page eventually) This whole thing with developing a personal website has turned into an obsession
over the last month. Honestly, I think I’ve spent more time coding than sleeping or doing anything else.
I’m used to getting obsessed with new interests and losing sleep over them, but this has taken hold of me
in a way I almost didn’t think was possible. I wake up excited, knowing I get to spend another day
learning, designing, and tweaking strings of code
that build up a website. It's so fucking cool, lol.
And still, though nothing is really out of the ordinary today, I’ve started feeling this growing urge to write, so here it is.
That’s why I wanted to make the diary page presentable first. I'm not very good at writing anymore—I used
to think I was decent when I was younger, but that was, you know, when I was younger. Even so, I enjoy
putting words to the mundane and going back to edit things, adding little details and descriptions. I used to
do that a lot when I actually enjoyed writing. I've spent the last few years becoming
more distanced with my own words and thoughts and mostly just venting in a personal blog-thread in a
discord server that I share with online and some offline friends.
I still feel a lot of pressure to write well-structured sentences and try to use nice-sounding words. I did
not struggle with the same issue when I was venting in a small little discord community, but I think
I'll just have to try and realise that this is just for me. I don’t have to write for anyone but myself.
This is _my_ little corner of the big unpersonal web. (Though, I fucking love how nice and warm and personal neocities feels. I wish I could have
been a conscious enough human being back in the day when geocities was a thing.)
Oh, and I almost forgot. I spoke to my aunt today. She seems to be doing well,
though she always sounds like that, even when I know she’s not.
She’s been worried about her adult child a lot. I worry too. I should call her tomorrow.
• I'll get better at titles eventually
2024/09/04 13:04
I write a new shopping list every time i need to shop for groceries, despite shopping for the same ten items every time.
i think i just like the habit of it.
life has become more grounded now, despite the move, despite falling in love again.
i asked my boyfriend for advice on what to buy, since eating feels like a chore.
i tell him, "i realized i don't have any breakfast at home. (i'm okay)."
my boyfriend knows breakfast is the only important meal for me.
when i don’t get a response fast enough, i jot down a few things and hope inspiration will strike when i get there.
he eventually responds with "buy something tasty."
outside, the air is so incredibly moist that i immediately start to sweat. during the two minute walk to the store, i'm already soaked,
which might be fueled by the fact that i realise that i somehow forgot to drink coffee, just because i didn't have any breakfast at home.
i feel stressed today, like i'm running on a schedule, even though there's literally nowhere i need to be, except home.
i felt stressed that i messed up my morning ritual and i felt stressed because i felt like i should have done more today. well, at least more things that
makes me feel good, and my morning routine makes me feel good.
I think i just stayed in bed for too long
Tomorrow I'll see my boyfriend again. that'll be nice.
