series

2/4
i have a name yk
On this day, I am plagued by nothing more than what could have been. I am aware that it would never be, despite my mind’s protests. He is there, and I am here. That is why it was not possible. I am like this, and he is like that. That is also why this wasn’t possible.

I woke up at 5:03am to ████ annoyedly telling me to turn my alarm off- it had only been on for three minutes. I think she was being dramatic; I hate being trapped in this slow death spiral… I went back to sleep and woke up at around 10am. I had class, but I didn’t go. Why do I do this to myself? I think deep down I’m afraid things will pan out like in high school. I know this is irrational, and I bite, and I refuse to be stepped on, but the fear persists. The same way, I fear the eventual profanity, yelling, ” Don’t yell at me, but if really want to, tell me in advance.

Why craft this romance only to play it off as a joke? Your feelings aren’t the only ones invalidated when you say those things. I’m thinking about that ████████ nightmare. Why talk to me like that, call me insane, why ask questions if you’re not going to believe me, why do anything if you don’t trust me? I trusted you, I wholeheartedly believed the words you fed me because I felt your intentions were nothing but kind.

The third act conflict? Is that what they call it? where no one listens to each other, no one can see eye to eye, it’s pathetic, it’s sad.

The countless pushes were my attempts at freeing you; it’s silly when I type it. But it’s hard to see how you gain anything by maintaining this relationship with me. I know what I get, affection, your attention, your kindness and care- the type you wish your mother would show you. I wish someone would caress my head, hold my hand, or embrace me without my having to prompt them. I want to be loved, I think. It’s hard for me to progress past a certain point because I become hopelessly aware of the things I lack. I don’t know my mother, my father; I have no personal history that I’m aware of. When I think about who I am and the experiences that made me, I see moments painted in rage. I don’t want to be pitied, so I need to keep these things to myself.

I don’t want a relationship or sex; I can’t cook, and I’m lazy. I struggle to leave the house. I question my purpose all the time. I feel vapid and simple, and I’m not particularly gorgeous. Haha, so why am I here? It isn’t fun being different. It’s hard being the way I am. I really don’t know why I’m like this. The only love I’ve considered wants nothing to do with me. I need to suck it up and accept that. It’s okay, though. I’m doing well, and it’s okay and it’s good, I think. It’s good because I experienced it, and I understand my desires a little more, and I understand there will never be another him. I don’t worry about making friends. I think I’m good at connecting at a surface level. I’m good at connecting on a deeper level, too. But I don’t think I want that. i cried a lot, and i cursed my body, and i wished to be anything but the thing i am. If I were male, you’d treat me normally. And you wouldn’t love me. I don’t hate being a woman, I hate that I’m one in this world. I wish I didn’t think the way I do now. You don’t understand the devastation of growing up within a culture that treats women like second-class citizens and being painfully aware of it. my dad really wanted a son. My mother only produced daughters. I don’t get it, I’m smart and I do well, I try not to disappoint you, I don’t ask for things, I make myself small so that you’ll love me, I take up your hobbies so that you’ll at the very least love the parts of me that you see yourself in. I have your eyes and your last name. What is it about me that’s so unlovable? There isn’t a lot to love in the first place. Parenthood bestows a dangerous amount of power onto fools with no understanding of the value a human life carries. I am a person, too. The feeling is too much for me. I want to be alone. I want to live in the mountains and die there. I want to talk to wildlife. I want my words to echo. I want someone to hear me and respond.

What I really want is to burn, get so close that the heat hurts me, but still stay. I never know how long it’ll last. WHAT THE FUCK EVER omg get out of my head, I keep on seeing his stupid mousey face when I close my eyes. He clearly loves Japan more than he loves me. What the actual fuck, like, why do this, why even do all of that bullshit creep of the year genuinely strokes it to the idea of me losing my mind over this shit I HATE EVERYTHING
“Do you even care about me?”
“That’s a loaded question”
NO THE FUCK IT ISN’T JUST SAY NO omg omg omg omg I can’t beat this horse again, but my lifetime subscription to loserdom is nonrefundable. My life is so fucked I can’t eat at that restaurant, I CAN’T EVEN PLAY POOL. no fruit farms, no escape rooms, no thrifting HE TOOK EVERYTHING I can’t even hate efficiently because he’s a really decent guy.. lowkey wishing him well.. eyeroll.

3/4
pathetic and vanilla.
It’s hard to have fun; it’s hard to engage in intimacy more. The things I thought I would enjoy are dirtied by abuse. I’ve been on the receiving end of violence many a moment in my developing years; the addition of a phallic symbol- I’m talking about sex now- does not do much to subvert that. It’s hard to imagine myself beyond a burden. I want a gentle existence and to be handled delicately, so there’s no way I could fully enjoy the depths of sex. To be stretched apart and gyrated against isn’t too dissimilar from say; ███ ████████ ████ from someone who claims to love you. I think, if you loved me, you wouldn’t want to do that to me. Sex is nothing more than a symbol to be imposed on others. a conquering. You are to be penetrated and defiled and made someone else’s, and it will be a magical consummation. I don’t know where I’m going with this. I want to eat you and roll you around on my tongue. Am I ruined now? I feel like I lost something. Or I had something that existed only during our brief time together, and now it is gone forever. It has been years since I had it, but I feel the shape of its absence always. Whatever solitude I had built up is long destroyed, pillaged by your gentle embrace. Get your hands off of me, I hate it when you touch me. I couldn’t tell you who I am right now, only what I need to feel complete. I wanted to save you from myself and the misfortune I would bring. Yet I regarded myself as a flower, and you, a thick miasma that defiles everything it touches (ego death craves me). I’ve never bloomed with such vigour as when I had you to shine onto me. I really, really miss you. I wish we were compatible and I wasn’t myself.

Today, the ghost of productive present shone a light on me, and I did things heyo!! It was super super hot, and I’m prepared to crash the moment my head hits the pillow. But it isn’t late! and i dont want to mess up my sleep schedule i just fixed it. You wouldn’t believe how janky it was before. I would wake up at 2pm and sit around all day or take laps around my apartment and dance and complain about how much work I had to do, but who cares about work my heart is forever tainted and it will never be fresh or clean ever again! missing work and going AWOL is chill when there isn’t a bitch in your ear asking you if you’re okay. I’m not okay, and alcoholism isn’t okay either- coming from the goat of drinking. It was to the point that I’d wake up feeling like shit and be all confused. BITCH YOU’RE HUNGOVER!! Soju is the silent killer; you never feel it until it’s too late. Highkey, you never feel it until it’s over for good. He stopped loving me the moment I opened my heart to him! So what if it took years.. I suppose it’s like being force-fed. After a while, you come to accept that you have no choice in the matter. You will eat, fighting against it every single day is no good for the soul. You have no choice but to forget dignity and leave your jaw hanging for mealtime. Something, something resistance. He left, and it took me years to accept that the words “I love you” were not a permanent declaration.

Things were hard after you left me. This is so lame. I didn’t eat; all I did was work, bury myself in work to mask the grief. The thought of loving you back was unfathomable to me. Even now, I want you around, but not as a lover. Do you understand why I had to do this to you? I never felt like your equal. At any moment, I was just on the receiving end of your desire. This whole relationship is disproportionate. It’s more than an esteem issue. It’s the way you subtly acknowledged I wasn’t fully developed, that my personality was unfinished. questions of my youth, if I would always be like this, like you expected me to grow into something alongside you. I really hated it when you would scold me. Does the act of handfeeding lessons in empathy do it for you, or is it the excitement of having someone new to impose on? It’s no different -the feeling at least- from when my ██████ █████ ██ ████ ██ █████ and walks into my room days later, puzzled as to why I refuse to ████ ██ ███, or ████ ██ ███, and tells me I should forgive ███ and that it isn’t in my nature to hold a grudge. And that I’m a good Christian girl, and this only happened because I wasn’t acting like one, and if I’m cruel, then you’re forceful and imposing. Am I more worthy of your love only if I bend to your will? Freud didn’t account for men who remind you of your mother, and because of this, I was disgustingly ill-prepared. I think, with enough time, I would have given in to anything you wanted, and when you pulled away, I felt a comfort in pursuing you instead, in the pathetic way a duckling follows whoever mimics its mother. Like I felt normal pining for your attention. Please look at me. I would have become anything you asked. I’m so pathetic, and I wish I could be normal about things. As much as I want a gentle romance, I think at the end of the day, I’ll fall into one that makes me feel like I’m young again. yknow. Step on me and do whatever you want to me, and isolate me, and strip my agency again, and hurt me as much as you want, as long as you apologise after. Love is such a terrible task. I’ll never get over this. I learned about myself; I’m not as strong as I thought I was, and I’m desperate to be loved. Holy fuck, the scolding thing makes me so sick. like I’ve never felt so belittled… omg

I feel dirty when I start missing you like this. I want to consume with no concern for anyone’s boundaries and be empty all at once. Again and again, I must remind myself that it is okay to have loved, and it is okay to linger around the fading warmth. I mourn your tender approach, and I’m sorry I couldn’t treat you with the same care. I might be a cactus.

3/10
Come to this event on short notice because I hate you… okay? I’ll go. dress code? business casual. Fuckkk you, what does that even mean?

The cannoli was not good! I didn’t like the chocolate shell or the custard; it was clearly box-made! And there’s nothing wrong with boxed food, but if you brand yourself as traditional Italian cannolis, you should probably use the traditional Italian cannoli custard. Also, I’m not a fan of chocolate, especially rich chocolates. I like my chocolate quiet, timid, meek, eat me, eat me! Release the crack! I’m talking about business casual again. Yes, I’ll go to your event with your silly alum and free food, whaaaaat am I even going to say? I fear I may just wall-hug for three hours, then eat. ugh, networking. The bane of my existence, there has to be an easier way to get a job than this riffraff.

Tomorrow is a big day, I need to shave my eyebrows AND my petite little moustache, it’s been getting out of hand. outfit for tomorrow planned, sleek, dark, captivating? I hope not. It’s the perfect mix of wall-hugging camouflage but business style. camo? But the walls are warm-toned… I didn’t think this through. And the fro is forever because it goes with everything I’m talking about the outfit again. Confessions of a shopaholic? The intimissi boatneck modal cashmere tops are not worth it. SHAME! The tops are really cute, and they wear well, but they’re not durable at all! it is my fault slightly for being rough with the goods? NO! I checked the reviews, and customers have had similar experiences.

Also, an opinion of mine. I’m not a fan of these gendered clothing lines. Like Intimissi is the brand, and they recently launched a new line called iuman, guess who it’s for? stupid! I know. I guess it makes sense for sizing and all that, but skincare is where I draw the line. It’s like Nivea men, do they take out the anti-aging peptides because aspiring to look like you did when you were popped out of the womb is only for women? stupid again, but I can say for the anti-aging thing, it’s never been much of a concern of mine because I kinda know I’ll look this way for a while. Do you wanna know why you’re aging like milk? It’s because you’re in a desert country when you’re truly built for the Tibetan Alps, maybe not Tibetan, but you get the gist. But I’m also just a strong fan of the Australian Gothic and the eerie outback. We don’t talk about colonialism enough. and its effects.

The Greek tragedy of Cassandra wasn’t a myth, it was actually about me. I can tell the future! I think back to times of trying to, like, have you ever had racism mansplained to you? thinking back to times of explaining to my friend the qualms of the mystical black woman, and for some reason, the experiences I’ve experienced and the experiences many a woman like myself have experienced arent valid, no. But come a few months earlier, he’s in my ear talking about some implicit bias stuff, and I’m like, yeah, we’ve talked about this. and hes like i never believed you wow. We don’t speak of him anymore. I turned into a beast and bit his head off.

Business casual, are breasts business appropriate? Do women deserve job opportunities? See, the biggest enemy isn’t yourself, it’s the cleavage. I’m on my Madonna whore shit 24/7 because you have to think like the enemy, also you’d prefer not to be the whore. title: get these meat sacks off of me.

4/5
HAHA, the date was terrible, I was unfortunately mute, sorry, Andy!

4/14
dating apps are a humiliation ritual. only starved and pathetic beasts flock to such apps, myself not included obviously. im fresh and clean and pure and the events of last night do not reflect on the condition of my soul. see? see it now, its untouched. the year has barely gotten on when you think about it.. there is still plenty of time to rebrand and consume and consummate plans planned and forgotten for sure. optimism is the word of the day! optimistic is the girl who thinks her account is getting unbanned sooner or later. now im left to post notes on substack to alert my writer mutuals that i have not forgotten about them (i am still here!) and that their posts are still much appreciated by well me. i am the only reader in the world so it is imperative that i read the words of those who write.

I received three tarot readings from a friend on the condition of my entanglements, past and present. Brief (three days and 8 hours respectively), but my rumination and obsession with fun led me to extrapolate these mistakes into more than they should have ever been.

Two of swords upside down, knight of cups upside down, five of cups upright.
I’m keeping the interpretations close to my heart, but the gist was: leave that white boy alone… ykw sure

knight of pentacles upside down, justice upside down, six of cups upside down.
I think this one was just a confirmation of the feelings I had already come to terms with, I’ve only recently begun to see things as they are. Perhaps I would have been happier as a blushing belle in love with a mirage of moments lost to the ethernet. I used to love the internet, but even that has been soured by moments I should’ve never partaken in. I feel like pieces of me have been partaken in without my explicit consent, but I think that is also something synonymous with womanhood. Maybe the cards are urging me to throw away my pursuit of femininity and return to what I was before I became what I am.

Maybe tarot cards endeavour to bring you back to yourself. I’m a sceptic at heart, so in theory I could relate to any card if I try hard enough. Perhaps the tarot is more of a mindfulness game than a mystical form of clairvoyance. The cards tell me I have loved, and I am reminded of a great love. The cards tell me I have been derailed. oh! But this love of mine took hold of my horns and threw me off course. INTO THE FREAKING TRACKS! The cards tell me there is hope at the end of the rainbow. But of course! Where else would god stash his pot of gold?

king of pentacles, ace of pentacles, three of pentacles.
Okay, this is the end of my entry. I really hate the current format; it’s terrible, and editing is for people with attention spans. Confession time, I’ve been like coo off my meds for like a good month, maybe I should push my refill appointment back since I have so much backlog. #iloveufuckiforgothisname2026

4/20
Dreams are special things bestowed upon special girls. I am one of the lucky few. Unfortunately, I only achieve REM at 5:00am every day, so I sacrifice my mornings to dream a little longer. Yesterday I said I would read Sartre. That was a bald-faced lie! It was more of a hairy one, actually. A hairy-faced lie! I rarely recount the earlier chapters of my dreams because it is all psychosexual-freudian slop. I can recall the last moments before I woke up and began writing this entry.

I am violently trying to get into a room. In that room is a woman holding a letter meant for me, one I have excitedly anticipated since the end of our relationship. I think the thought of opening the letter and receiving clarity on these feelings that haunt me (it is a central flaw of society that no one is ever able to be honest with one another. Confessions of: I hate you; I love you; I need you; I cannot imagine a life without you; would surely help this world of ours spin with less weight and more vigour. Even the phrases uttered in my youth (I like to believe the days of being fresh and naive are behind me) “I want to eat you”, in which I believed I was being a raw and vulnerable girl, are now duplicitous under a new light. Perhaps I always knew what my intention was with those words. Am I dishonest and terrible for never clarifying what I meant by that? I would like to propose a bill to slice the English lexicon in half. there! Our communication problems have been solved. Though my bill has achieved naught in terms of quelling my raging intrapersonal angst. I don’t hate myself!) So, I woke up without ever knowing the truth within those letters. I did not cry or sob or lie in bed and replay “Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart” in memory of my Danish sweetheart. No! I was okay when I came to. Okay is the best I could realistically feel. It’s better than the dim neutrality or static, or even worse, yes, that terrible thing despair. Despair isn’t all puppy funerals and lead poisoning, though. I think my eyes take on a pretty shape when I cry, so I can excuse despair and its rule over me. I was okay, which means I awoke to a perfect mood. I thought, “The tarot reading and my resolve had aligned!” I feel pretty good. end of entry.

04/26
a girl recollects her date, but only the parts she’s ruminated on!
initial dinner date: boring, fun? weird.. I contemplated going home afterwards because I was cold, and, well, I didn’t think we were getting along. But I think that’s just how I am. like frigid and introverted. Was he loud? Or am I always below a whisper? How can I describe it? If he wrote as much as he spoke, he’d be an editor’s nightmare. Imagine someone talking to you as if you had no prior knowledge of anything. Oh, you like [insert thing]. Oh boy, do I have an unnecessarily long backstory for you! i didnt mind it, i like listening to people talk way more than talking. Haha, how could I forget he went through all the different accents he could do? I really enjoyed that.

We play minigolf. I kick his ass! he lets me win 😦 or loose? I think we were playing too loosely. he takes the card home.. boo I wanted to scrapbook it. We hit a bar to play pool. Now that was a whim if I’ve known one. I’m already tired. The music is too loud, and now my mind is wandering. I miss every single shot I take. loud music, wandering mind, terrible aim. Could things get any worse? YES IT FUCKING COULD. He’s having a great time, and I feel terrible because I can’t reciprocate his energy, not to mention at some point his hand brushes my waist, and it just sends me deeper into whatever I’m feeling. ugh what a creep! This is what I want to say. In what world do I want you touching me right now? I catch a few glimpses of my face in the mirror, and I’m glad I dyed my hair. It looks fun as fuck. I ask if we can kill the game early. I feel bad, he probably wanted a real game. I still feel bad. I’m not sure why I felt so terrible. I want to apologise for being so difficult, but I don’t. I stay quiet instead.

The last spot we hit is the park. The escape rooms were booked out (the original date plan was an escape room, btw (great idea, I know (courtesy of yours truly))), how terrible, and he suggested we go, so I obliged. I don’t know. I can only describe the night as being a passenger to his whims. Playfully, I blame the ruined night on him. he offers me his hand to hold as consolation (he’s so theatrical!). He’s holding it up for me now, and I hesitate. The moment doesn’t last forever, and I tentatively (I remember considering it for some time) take his hand. HES SO THEATRICAL, seriously, I love it, it checks out too. Now we’re sitting on a circular swing. At first, I was lying on it because I was dreadfully tired. That game of pool drained me. I said I wanted to go to the arcade. He tries to sit next to me, but we settle on sitting back-to-back. I enjoyed that part. Honestly, I was getting tired of watching him watch me. It’s dark and we’re swinging and talking about nothing special. he tells me that the end is up to me, and I hate that because I’d rather not make the decision. I WANTED TO GO TO THE ARCADE!!

There are a few moments where I’m tempted to comfort him. I mean, I should, rub his back or console him, but I let the moment pass. He’s really hot. My back is uncomfortably warm. like when you sit too close to a heater for too long. He is the heated seat, though. Freud, grief, Murakami, Confessions of Good and Evil? I ask him if he always overexplains himself like this. he tells me he does, and it’s okay because it’s who he is. ugh, I wasn’t dissing you, or anything, is what I want to tell him. I may have a judgmental tone. I prefer to leave space for interpretation, I tell him. It’s no fun to be the former yk? (It’s funny because he proceeds to leave me guessing I OVEREXPLAIN THAT U ASSHOLE) Suddenly, I feel shy and coy and want nothing to do with the outside world. ” Soooo, can you take me home now’ i think it before I say it. In reality, I’m more coy about it.. “I think I’m ready to go now”

On the walk back to the car, I ask him the fun question. what are your issues? anger issues. He rambles on and on. We established he’s an overexplainer. I will admit I didn’t feel like seeing him again after that. i remembered how big and rough his hands felt. I could probably take an Uber home. girlfriends. exes. I didn’t ask for a recollection of his previous relationships, that has nothing to do with me. no he asked me. he asked me if i had any dating experience. am i that transparent? I said no, and he said he did, a lot he supposes. back to exes. He tells me he has a bad habit of pursuing women who need fixing (fuck all the way off). Is it weird I felt like that was bullshit? he asks me the same question, and I reply, I have none. im perfect. Seriously, I have none. Okay, I’ve had the same recurring dream for a few years now. The net is telling me something terrible happened to me, but I just really like the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse… and cheese, fuckkkk I want to see something new when I close my eyes.

We take the elevator to level one. It’s silent. we walk to his car. I don’t say a thing, and if we did talk, I don’t remember. His car is surprisingly clean, and his seats are heated. It feels like we’re back to back on the swing set again. he hands me his phone, and I type in my address. he asks me to play music and im excited again. I want to play ” Iron Man ” by The Cardigans, but my thumb slips and ” Lovefool ” plays instead. okay, whatever. He likes it, who doesn’t know Lovefool? something something. he leaves me alone in the car for a moment so he can pay his ticket. I’m with his unlocked phone and I’m tempted to check a few things. Spotify, Tinder, the notes app. I could get a lot done in 30 seconds undisturbed. but i decide against it. My conscience is constantly fucking up my plans for world domination. His phone case is a sleek leather, and now I want to frolic on some farmland. I just remember noting that because my current phone case was freaking screwed. ugh we talked a lot on the way home. music, fruit farms, mangoes, strawberries, blueberries, his travel plans, more fruit farms. I would’ve let him put a hand on my lap if he wanted to, but he didn’t. He didn’t try to kiss me at my place either (oh, so nowwww we’re being coy). I wonder if I was supposed to do that. Maybe take the initiative for the first time. I’m not one to break theme though, so I guess he didn’t want to. None of it matters anymore. we’re never seeing each other again.

4/27
I don’t want to talk about it

5/6
emotional regulation is boring and it feels like locking up a piece of myself when i try it. just a thought i had, i know its stupid and i should try to be a normal human being. im watching rwby right now. im so in love with the show. i think the production and the world lost something substantial with monty’s passing. he truly had a wonderfully unique way with composition and movement. his fight scenes were each a work of art. i remember watching something on the differences on action and fight scenes (this has nothing to do with anything) but even when it came to fights with grim each felt like an intricate dance. colour too, the club scene from vol 2 ep 4 reminds me of something taken straight from kizumonogatari. something i should probably watch again soon. i love that thing too. do twins sound the same? is that a stupid thing to ask? like naturally probably but i feel like voices depend on more things than just genetics. wyd if your geriatric professor is reincarnated into the body of the boy youre in love with but the two separate souls remain but you lowkey need your professors mind to save the world but also you feel bad for the original soul because the body was his first..

5/7
another day of violent heart rates and disappointing proportions. im drinking warm water right now, i want to read my book, i think. but its online and im sick of watching screens. but i only grow tried of screens when its time to read so i know im just making excuses. excuses excuses. i want it to be tomorrow already so i can go to the library. i dont know why i stay home like this. i forget i have other options. go outside? go outside and do what? do what exactly! i want to work on my project but it lacks direction. a passion project without the passion. i am the missing passion. i sat around and applied to jobs today. i ignored the progression of prior applications because deep down i dont want to do anything. school is looming over my head.. i can see it now. but what can i do? there are things i can do, i dont know if i want to do them though. I might organise my files today. maybe.. the day is already over. i wonder if this is how i am supposed to feel.. and if i feel fulfilled. im once again spinning with no desires or plans. i chose to stumble through life in this drunken stupor! at some point i will wake up. soon, hopefully. i have control over that….at least im supposed to. what to do yk? ill think of something.

5/8
i deleted every trace of you.. who wants to console me and buy me candy?
its like you never existed. right now i dont feel anything particularly strong towards that statement. at some point i thought it was my duty to preserve your work, your voice, your legacy. to me you were a man above men. what was i thinking? that i would cross seas to be with you and we would fall in love? forever? for some reason i had convinced myself it was love. maybe it was, but id never loved before that point so who am i to define love? he was a thing ensouled and i was hungry to feast on what he had to offer. he wrote about me. ive never had someone see me, or try to. i see you too now, i dont have any feelings on the matter. i do, though none are worth sharing. it isnt worth the words. we’re in different worlds now. some part of me still hopes to see you. it’s stupid its stupid i know. i wont ever stray from who i am and thats exactly why things are they way they are. at some point i convinced myself there was depth to your hedonism. i am a body, youre an attractive flesh bag. sweet words and writings temp me like a snake. oh but you did have depth! depth beyond my understanding. i didnt understand then and i can only hope to now. i doubt ill ever get that far. depth? im not a deep thing. im a shallow puddle when it comes to these matters. end of entry. no edit.

5/9
im on vol 5 of rwby. boy do i love action. its like action with no stakes, less blood and whatever. orange is the new red is what ive heard. its in everyones character design. they need to take the red offa ren. is it weird i always thought there were greater things planned for ren? its clear he was a favourite of the creator. cool ass introductory fight, plus he was voiced by the man himself (monty oum). speaking of monty i wonder how things woulve progressed if he had lived. i wonder how it feels to have a work, your own passion project, precede your existence. rwby outlived him and the company that produced its vital seasons. its like outgrowing a friend but still using their quips in casual conversation. i can for sure say i wasnt born a sardonic and cruel girl. i guess its up to me to either outgrow or outlive my posturing. dear diary, i dont know if ill ever understand the delicacies of the heart. i lack tact. boo me. can i buy it somewhere??
rwby vol 5 was a weird one for sure. you can see the time and care taken to upgrade SOME characters. im talking about raven ughhh its terrible to look at. lookat her and look at wiess. they knew better than to frame them in the same scene.. partial end of entry. ill be back i think.
say something absurd!!
absurd ranges from my apologising to fuck pee fantasies. NO! i would never let that happen, not even a drizzle.. unless youre ██████ then drizzle away… full stream ahead!

5/11
if you cut me open you may not like what you see. im making an ins and outs list!!
in:
casual heels
going outside
spotify premium
fiscal responsibility !
attending uni
painting, drawing, anything to do with pen on paper
writing by hand
love letters
some self assuredness
inu-curry
i want to read up on existentialism
out:
chasing love, as a concept instead of the feeling
chasing arbitrary feelings
reoccurring dreams
sleeping in
skipping meds
halting life for no apparent reason
this obsession with thrill and fun and anything entertaining
burner account driven psychosis
rumination to the point of tears
ruining my day with my imagination
references to that thing
ignoring important emails
ignoring important texts
gaugin
indecision

listing things i like because i am unsure of myself. listing these things simply because i feel feeble and simple today.
1. alice in wonderland: i like dreaming. i remember having an imagination so vivid my inner world would often project onto the real, a terrible gift.
2. inu curry: they made pmmm! i love their style. stop motion is one of my all time favourite mediums. it reminds me of my old.. i think he taught something do to with computers? in primary school. i cant remember his name. he passed.
3. coraline: making up a song about coraline shes a peach shes a doll shes a friend of mine. i love love love this movie and the studio clearly loved coraline too. the stop motion is a work of art, ugh i wish i had more words!
4. cordoba mosque: arches
5. tibetan monks: i feel a sort of safety? orange and red.
6. the free design: unicorns, specifically the mind absorbing.. decoding? ones in hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world
7. nadja: andre brenton
8. murakami: i like the lack of “oh wow! i am so confused!” there was a specific song mentioned i think it was a piano trio.. whatever that is.
9. wagner: fujoslop. im joking, but he was suddenly more interesting when i read up on the gay accusations.
there is no tenth, i feel like myself again. or at least i feel livelier than i did before. this is a good thing. ps it was THE GRAND TRIO

6/3
came across a profile of yours i had yet to tear to shreds. private account. ten posts. created 2015?? i dont have it in me to sleuth. well i do.. and i will.. momentarily i was invigorated but now i am flat again. desiiiiiire by murakami. murakami likes wagner, im learning. now that i think about it there isnt a single murakami i have read that didnt mention a piano overture, or what ever else it is called. i dont understand the appeal. why is wagner so great? who loves wagner? can you tell me that at the very least. words im rambling about nothing. no cobblemon, no tinder matches, no favourite mutual!! i feel like a zombie today too but less of one. i want to be serenaded by frivolous conversation, be light! be airy! whisper in my ear about wagner and plot to attack a bakery with me to right the unfinished business of my past! truth be told seeing into your life brings me no more excitement than masturbation. is it there but fleeting and leaves an aftertaste of guilt and disgust. truly i am healed from this unhealthy obsession.. take me baaack! oh how i wish to be mindless and lithe again, let my eyes overflow with wishes and may my tears carry words- bleergh! over it, im not even curious what a sad life i lead! favourite mutual updated their substack i changed my mind this life of mine is filled with light!
end of entry!!

6/4
no attempt to pitch the baby has been made. life would be sweeter if i thought less. yes! think less of you and me and here and there and soon the world will resort to the shame shallow breathing i commit to.. to stay invisible. invisibility was a dream of mine at some point in my youth. this was because i believed myself wretched and orge-like. so much so i learned to detach my mind from my body. all those years i was a husk! but now i have reunited with my self and this body of mine is desperate to be touched while my mind.. also yearns to be touched but not in that way oh no not at all. im starting to believe i may not be capable of that mental touch i crave. incapable of the care it takes to be delicate. i am the angry man! i am angry and agressive and horns grow from my forhead! i love love though.. i could name a thousand romance novels that i love, what did they teach me you ask? nothing.. fictional love exists in a world of its own… AND IT IS BEAUTIFUL i am the fisherman and the pearl! i let myself waste away at the potential of love: touch, fever, heartbreak.. but when i came forth to collect the affection i dreamt of all i found was the naked shed of my lover. how long has it been since he loved me last? is love even possible after the cruelty i displayed? am i even a being capable of love? this question haunts me. words that haunt me “will you always be like this” I DONT KNOW i dont know i wish i knew.. like what? aloof? cautious? incapable of reciprocation? perhaps i fell in love with sexting i miss it truly its the most fun a girl can have without taking her clothes off. i desire fully clothed fun!! stefan does not want to go to an edm club with me.. i am upset i think. i feel neutral but i am saddened for sure. what is in store for me tomorrow? hopefully i keep all toes and fingers. im going to finish desire tonight.. maybe i fall victim to the wagner loving bastard- thats a love im willing to die by! EOE

6/7
hear yee hear yee
its official i am turning over a new leaf! its a new day which means i am fresh and new.. and NOT manic.

i suppose im in my right to become extremely neurotic and vain in terms of my appearance. i am a person who likes to think and thinks of wonderful things but can never execute. i have been this way since i was an early fawn, seeking sweet red nectar only to lose my way and end up caught in the bramble bushes of it all. this image doesnt do well with this colour palette. i suppose the site should turn over a new leaf too. what will i do tomorrow? its better to not complicate the new leaf with old thoughts. its better to not think at all!

i suppose i suppose i suppose its my new favourite phrase i want to watch days of being wild today i want to get into wong kar wai. at some point ill watch all he has to offer but i should pace myself. i like writing i feel good about things right now im zen because my prescription is working as intended intentions thats a good question actually what are your intentions with me straightforward i like it but its also kinda silly i mean who knows what they intend to do with a person in the moment. am i supposed to? is it a bad thing that i dont? does this feeling only apply to say a relationship? did i ever intend to befriend the people i befriended? i dont think so if they asked me that question back then i wouldve said something like “i need somewhere to sit” it didnt have to be anyone in particular just someone who wasnt too loud and was funny enough. im not going anywhere with this entry im going to do some yoga.
EOE!

9/6
I remember everything feverishly, it burns like a prayer, soldering everything that touches me into me into me. dont show me sexy boots imma fuzz EVERYWHERE im so serious

29/6
my favourite person in the world is an empty husk. i have taken it upon myself to fill it with someone else. when i talk to him i think of you, when i flirt, when hes on top of me, when im on top of him; i think of you. i wonder why its so easy to be dirty with him but it was impossible with you. perhaps you had a point- different mental models. even now i want your respect, i dont want to taint the good image you should have of me. though by now my good name is more than blackened. i have no one but myself to blame for that. tell me: how early should i have given in? one week? one day? one hour? it seems you loved me within the moment you became aware of my shine. in return i kindly hid from yours. it had the potential to end me, so i thought. i am ashamed to admit i danced around it at times. now look at me, i have been ended, my purity ruined. i would do it again if it meant crossing that point of no return. what is there to return to after experiencing a love like that? i was a person in your eyes. someone to acknowledge and see and wait with. i felt intense. every moment was lightning across my nerves. ive never felt such pain than when i thought of you, and how i hurt you. pixies’ tugged at my heart to perform a cruel melody. its unfinished incase youre curious. i dont know, part of me has hope we’ll complete it together.
e.o.e

30/6
its hard to meditate these days when all the silence evokes is the intensity i no longer have access to. im thinking about his lack again. he doesnt make me angry, or sad, just horny, but that isnt a miraculous deed. still.. with him even standing still is a reminder of the marks he left. he has brandished my body with his presence. dont be mean to me, dont leave me, do not respond to my cruelty with kindness either. i was a terrible thing. i hate that im haunted by these moments when i become enthralled with lack. i should let him fuck me. maybe then my obsession could undergo a sick transference. it isnt like he was easy to love, no he was i was diffucult to accept- as in accepting my own feelings for the boy, and now i want him more than ever. tl (that is the name i have decided on for mr.lack-of) tl FUCKING SUCKKKSSSSS OH MY GODDD can we be honest? he has something i want and im sure the feeling is mutual. so what if its shallow, i have needs and vintage designer isnt going to buy itself. i surprise myself with my own lack of depth
END OF ENTRY (maybe)

3/07
analysing tarkin’s whimper audio (nut sold seperately)
time: 4:59am
length: 00:29
its cinematic almost i kinda knew what it was before i played it, its like this- to the unsuspecting listener the audio begins with an air of mystique. i wonder.. what is that rhythmic slopping sound? could it be..? well it couldnt the tempo carries on along with the listeners train of thought though all deniablity falls away in the next few moments. heavy breathing something stuck between a moan and a whimper catches in his throat all while his hands bring him closer. hands hes no doubt imagining is the woman he wants to be inside. i can tell hes trying to be quiet, i bet he really felt it when he said my name. its 4:59 in the morning and youre larping being knee deep in some pussy when you could literally just get some. his actions confound me. HES PISSSING ME THE FUCKK OFF OMG