playlist for suicidal crowds ? (aug/sept2026 edition)

 loveology - regina spektor (but only the portion beginning with porcupine-ology to the end)

the downward spiral - nine inch nails (the entire album listened in one sitting)

viscus - oklou

back in the 90's - grouplove 

disclaimer: things are not good

 viscus, blade bird and family and friends by oklou have been on loop for four straight days. 

you'd think i'd have them memorized by now.  

 

 been thinking a lot about the beginner's guide the last couple of days. even if the story is fictional, so many bits of it hit deep. specifically the lines in coda's game where the pitch is that there are a bunch of notes left by people when in all actuality they've been written by and left for himself. 

"he was, himself, the most horrible creature he could imagine."

"his terrible secret, he kept it well" 

"he cut it up, and spread it between worlds."

 

is this one of those worlds I could hide a secret in? 

I'm not sure there's any world my secret could live in.

 

it's interesting how mental illness evolves. 

last time i had an episode, it looked a lot different. so different that it was hard to tell that i've been getting really bad again until i passed that threshold and was forced to consider calling the hotline.

things feel so complicated this time. there was a domino effect and i'm not sure how i'll get better unless i just go back to ignoring everything. 

but there's also that sad, dark truth that maybe i don't actually want to get better.  

Disclaimer: Things are getting bad again.

 I think everyone but me forgot about this blog. 

 

I'm going to start using it again.  

realization

 It's in the moments of loss, of detected detachment, that I become an animal.

Hungry, desperate, reckless

Goal-oriented, determined, hell-bent on survival.

In the starkest of hours, the people on the other end of the suicide hotline suggested the creation of a 'CRP' - a crisis response plan.

One of the final questions was: What is your reason for living?

What is my reason for living?

I have no pets, I take care of nothing but six houseplants and they are but houseplants. I don't want to kill my family like that. 

After days of prayer, of pondering, of self-reflection, of standing in the woods I come to a conclusion.

My purpose is companionship.

I seek it out desperately, blind and deaf. I frantically seek to make out the edges of the room, to feel and detect and identify the body, the shape and feel of my lover. Yet, they still feel so temporary so I draw my hands along their form, seeking to dedicate it to memory, to imprint their very being on my fingertips so they might always be with me.

It is not quite loneliness I fear, more so to never be known, to never be loved.

I become a pitiful and yet terrifying creature all the same.

Gnawing its own leg off to free itself, bending and sacrificing to bend into some new shape. 

To be borderline is to be trapped by my own soul, contained within the thicket around my heart. The greenery, at once so beautiful and deadly, grows beyond my chest where it took root and flowers in my lungs, in my stomach. So woven into my being that it feels like it and myself are one and the same, so inseparable that if one were to cut out the parasite, I might perish and die. 

Yet I do my best to trim the hedges. To try to fight off when it drives my form. But it and I are one and the same. 

The only salve seems to be consistency, company, balance and equality in companionship. I can't quite fathom having something like that, and perhaps that keeps it at bay.

One can only hope it gets better.

curious

I don't go inside. 

I just sit in my car for a long time.

I scroll, phone light dim. It's just past eleven.

We were watching anime and I was falling asleep. Something feels wrong, but I can't place it. The sad is creeping in and I can't erase it. I don't know why it's there but logic says it's exhaustion and overstimulation.

I'm here realizing the problem is me. It's me and it would be so nice to take a pill or do something and stop being myself for a while because it has me thinking about killing myself again. 

Taking more drugs.

I don't want to see anyone tonight or tomorrow. Brain wants Taylor. Brain wants otome game dating sim. Brain wants attention and to sleep forever but the melatonin doesn't work and I just want to not wake up preferably. 

I'm not sure what's going to happen. 

I just imagine what I was telling Aly.

It's all good. Give him time to miss you. 

Everything is fine.

Everything is fine. Everything is fine.

Dull the pain.

Eat brownies out of the pan.

Play cupid.parasite. climb into your gross ass dirty sheets and clean your room tomorrow but go home and dull the pain until it doesn't matter anymore.

He seemed to think I was upset earlier. I was just reserved. Just withdrawn. Too many moving pieces and factors. I just. I want to stare at a wall until I decay and die.

Worst part is I don't know if this will ever stop.

This may just be the rest of my life.

shame

To be a daughter of trauma 

Is such a strange thing

To crave and be disgusted by sex in equal measure

In the mess of hands and mouths and touching 

To find both torment and pleasure in climax

Disgust and horror / hunger and relish

Afterwards

I could feel the animal shape of my body 

Its own organism 

And I was repulsed 

Loathing the sexuality of it. The animalistic drives. 

Mentally barren and removed from the idea. 

I want to escape this human skin.

Being trapped in this ghastly form that has these desires is torture.

Free me from this prison.

This dastardly game that nobody ever wins, least of all my true self. 

I don't know

My head hurts from the screens.

Lightness from DCFC plays softly

I wonder how to tell you I love you. 

I think about the red string of fate.

What everything means.

I have no idea. No perspective. 

I'm just trying. I'm trying to doing my best just to survive. To persevere.

I'm realizing that's one of my greatest strengths. 

Knowing I will be more than this.

Resilience.

That is my greatest strength.

At heart, I don't want to die.

I will do a good job.

I will burn brightly.

That's just who I am. I don't have a choice in the matter.

It's the strangest thing to realize. 

I guess there are some things I really do love about myself. 

Today was easier than the others.

I had a job interview. 

I got a coffee which was good and some McDonald's 

I've been on and off I'll all day

I got a text back tonight 

And he's going on the cruise tomorrow and I judt.

Each message hurts. 

Painful. 

Very painful.

I don't know what to say.

I'm running out of words.

I just don't know.

I don't know.

It hurts. But it also doesn't. 

I don't know. 

5am wakeup

The only one here that really hurts is me

It's as if he heard we could keep talking and then he was fine 

Does he think I haven't been serious about being suicidal? I think he takes it for granted 

I thought he'd say something else before he was gone 

Something besides what he did 

How is it I feel worse

I woke up from a good dream the first in a minute

A beast man to come to my old room, the one I grew up in 

A twisted dark beauty and the beast

I wake up to that message 

As if nothing is happening 

Wishing I'd find a blessing before he returns 

Nothing about survival or being missed

Nothing about being loved

Nothing about being gone 

I still feel nauseous 

I don't know why I ate

I'm paying the price for it

I peed (normal now, which made me sad)

I put the food away so I can stop smelling it

The room is hot and I haven't showered since Wednesday

It's mother's day and I want nothing to do with my mom 

I just want to disappear 

Everything hurts and I feel so small

Why does it matter so much that he knows and cares

I wish I were dead 

.it's 5am

I have too many hours left to live for this

processing

I ate and now I feel sick.

Nauseous.

It gave me the energy for anxiety. 

My stomach makes terrible sounds as it registers what I've done, a sleeping beast now awakened.  How am I supposed to want to keep it sated when it goes like this?

I don't feel good. 

Seeing text messages makes me worry. Makes my stomach churn.

I want to be able to keep the food inside me for longer than it wants to be when I get nervous like this. 

I was so worried it would help me feel better but now I'm realizing eating just helps me feel. It helps me get more distracted and have a little more stardust yes, but it also makes me want to eject all of my food into the toilet bowl and lie on the floor and stop existing.

I had just enough to dedicate towards downloading some old ROMs. Trying to do something fresh, something inner child with no connects to anybody. And now that we've messaged, it's just like it was before. 

There's not that vacancy.

There's not the absence.

Which is better? 

Which is worse?

He leaves tomorrow and I don't know how I'll handle this week. I don't want to handle this week. 

I don't want to think about it so I won't.

The Aurora is on tonight. 

I still wish I was dead but a little bit less.

That's the damn effect f to be having on me.

Nothing makes sense in the way I want it to.

Hayleigh was right. This does help, I think. It gets the chaos out. It directs the pain and helps it subside a little. It makes the beast. 

I'm cold still. I have goosebumps.

I should really go see the Aurora but I'm so cold. 

I wish he would miss me more.

I wish he would long for me.

I wish he would see me again.

He seems like he's doing so much better.

No more sad texts. No more missing me.

No more crying.

I'm the one left picking up all the pieces (again)

I told him I'd be open to a blessing but he suggests my grandfather or bishop.

I don't want to talk to family and I certainly don't want to talk to my bishop.

I don't want to talk to anyone else. 

The only people I'm talking to are Jeff and the suicide hotline.

It seems like I can't text the warmline which is unfortunately. 

My voice is soft due to not talking. I like it. It feels validating. I sound how I feel.

Even after eating, I feel raw and sensitive and soft. Vulnerable and wounded.

It's validating.

Part of me wants to kill myself before he gets back.

That'll show him I think. Then he'll feel it for sure

But I don't want to do more damage. 

So instead I'll think about it.

I'll plan it.

I'll keep talking to the crisis hotline.

I'll continue avoiding my family.

I'm going to curl into a ball like a prey animal and suffer this. 

I'll write out the methods and the dates and times and where to get the materials.

It's calming. It's a sign that things could stop. They could get better. 

I'll eat less than I was in an attempt to taunt that. In self harm. But I probably won't kill myself that way. It's scary to watch it happen over time.

It's scary to start to die.

I can't decide whether to stay up as late as I can or let life happen. I hate that I'm thinking about him leaving at 3:30am. I wish he didn't tell me that. I wish I didn't have to think about it. 

I wish I didn't know.

I wish the crisis hotline didn't ghost me.

I wish I felt different than this. But also not? 

I could barely manage much of my dinner. It's interesting how much appetite goes away.

Man. I really wish I was dead. 

I wish I could stop thinking about all this stuff. 

I wish I could just... Let go.

I wish I wanted to talk to somebody else but I don't.

Part of me is tempted to play an otome game but I also don't want to be driven further to wanting to kill myself in that way. That's straight up torture.

I don't know what I'll do.

Help me shut out the demons just enough but also not too much.

Please let him miss me.

Please let him hurt in the way that he can understand. 

Please, God. Please.

observations

The smell hits me and rather than being irresistible, it makes me almost nauseous. I open the lid. It's piled high with food. 

For the first time, I think I understand what people mean when they've had eating disorders and see a plate of food and think 'oh no'. 

Oh no.

My first bite: macaroni salad

Second bite: white rice

You'd think I'd be less picky about rice given that I've been starving, but it's bland.

I sample everything and then guzzle down one of the Hawaiian sun drinks like it's been much longer than 24 hours of going without water. 

It occurs to me this is the first substantial meal I've been able to keep in me since Wednesday or Tuesday.

Life seems to snap more into focus now.

I'm aware for the first time that I'm cold. My vision still seems almost cloudy and my attention isn't there, but things are focusing.

Do I even want them to focus on the first place?

Probably not.

I observe.

I worry about what I'll tell my therapist come Monday. 

I think about tomorrow and if he'll text me back.

About how I felt the need to say a reluctant prayer before I ate. Strange. God and I are on pretty poor terms at the moment. He's like a second cousin from across the country and I haven't written in a while. (I excuse it because the things they tell me about him don't sit right with me - they must have different beliefs and standards over there and I feel okay with how I'm living my life. I'm doing my best.) 

I put on a sad movie and then think twice about it. Do I really want to feel this way?

Why am I asking myself?

I leave it on in the background. 

I consider the suicide hotline ghosting me today. This is the second time they've done this mid conversation. Maybe it's because I brought up religion. Maybe Alex from 988 didn't think he could help someone that's been angry about not wanting to die enough.

Who knows. 

It's now I realize that this is one of the coping skills Hayleigh and I talked about in our conversation on Thursday night. She was my favorite of the people I talked to. She was engaging and professional but actually felt like she cared and had helped a lot of people before. 

(I hope she's having a good night tonight. I hope she knows she's changed my life.)

This falls under step 2 of my CRP (Crisis Response Plan) : coping skills. 

Specifically under Emotional Awareness.

I'm blogging. I'm noting my emotions. I'm feeling them. I'm engaging with them.

Maybe all this nonsense means something after all. 

Maybe it's actually worth something considering I'm not sure I'll do it. 

Die, I mean. Kill myself specifically. 

Not right now. Not tonight. 

There's always tomorrow, but not tonight. 

consequences

I haven't eaten or had any water since yesterday. It's been a little over 24 hours. 

I knew that would make it quicker. the source I initially read said it would take three days to die this way. 

I've been shaky. I've been dizzy. I haven't been able to descend the stairs without the railing and I've been able to hear my blood pumping and heart beating.

I peed earlier and it looked like blood. 

It scared me so bad. 

I researched starving to death to calm my nerves, to focus me. I needed to refind purpose in starvation. I needed to recenter my will to die. 

This was this page that was very practical and almost encouraging it - intending the info for people that were already at the end of life anyway.

Seeing it that straightforward scared me even more.

I realize the sick, sad truth.

I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

I just want the pain to stop.

I feel like I have to die 

I feel like, if I don't, if I just move forward then this doesn't mean anything. 

I can't handle that.

I have to make myself suffer for some reason.

Why am I like this? 

Why? 

I wish I could just kill myself or be brave enough but I'm still a coward. Too much of me wants to live apparently. 

It occurs to me that he clings to God right now because he has to 

God is his suicide.

He clings to it desperately, trying to survive.

He listens to talks like I research methods to die.

He receives a blessing from his father like I talk to the suicide hotline. 

crisis

I'll do it

I'll finish it off 

But how

Surrounded by my favorite things?

He's not there he keeps suggesting religion 

God's the one that told him to leave 

It's not that simple it's not that easy 

I was told to move here only to get obliterated and destroyed 

In deja vou it felt like a plastic sort of life but I was denying it I've been so desperate 

I don't feel like myself 

I don't even know who or what myself is anymore 

I can't do it. Any of it.

I need to do something. 

I need to finish it off.

I need to die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die, die

Kill myself 

End it stop the pain make it stop God please make it stop please I can't handle this I can't swallow it anymore please 

I'd rather be raped I'd rather be hurt some other way why is it always me why am I the one that gets left why am I the one suffering 

I'm spinning out spinning out soinning out spinning out spinning out spinning out spinning out spinnfouraoinnfourbspinningojt spinning out 

Getting tired because it's too much

I need to turn to something else some other kind of substance something to make the pain stop dometjing to make the spain stop something to make it all stop .I need it to stop I just need it tos stop .please make it all stop ...

.it's over 

I just need it to be over 

It has to be over

I'm going to do it

I have to do it 

I have to end it 

I have to leave it 

I need it to stop I need it to stop I need it to stop I have to stop remembering I have to stop dresming I have to stop thinking I have to stop I have to stop I have to stop 

Should I start 

I know if I start it'll be hard to stop 

Researching 

Researching self hard

Researching self harm 

Cutting 

Slicing cutting hurting aching bruising damaging 

He's not here he won't be here I'm freaking insane I'm the ex girlfriend you warn your other girlfriends about I did this it's all myself it's all my fault why am I like this 

.I can't do this anymore .I can't 

I can't

Please 

Please 

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

Stop texting him back

After I'm gone they'll probably find these if they care to search

Suicide hotline text messages 

How much do they care about s death like that .I don't know

How much research do they do 

I don't know

Does it even matter.

I need to do it. I need to kill myself. 

I need to do it. I need to kill myself. 

I need to do it. I need to kill myself.

I need to do it. I need to kill myself

I need to do it. I need to kill myself

I'm so weak I have to work myself up

I can't just commit

I can never fucking commit .I'm such a loser.

I can't do it 

I can't do it. I can't do this. I need to die. I just. I have to.

Methods. Gotta keep. Researching methods. 

Gotta keep thinking about it. 

Gotta be done.

Should I be comfortable

It depends .

I wish I could just

Go into a coma 

I would I could disappear and not hurt family 

I wish that were an option 

I wish I could just die

I wish I wish I wish 

Nothing I wish mayters

Nothing I want matters

Nothing matters

Nothing ever matters 

I can't even get anything I wish for

I just wanted to be happy

I just wsnted someone to love me.

Why am I so hsrd to love

Why am I so easy to leave 

I can't

I'm sorry

I'm going to die.

I don't know when 

I don't know how yet 

But I'm going to 

I don't even have it in me to write will letters

Maybe I should look for inspiration 

Maybe I should Google it

Maybe I should just die and forget it 

Maybe I should disappear 

Maybe I should kmcut myself and stop existint 

Nothing is real

Nothing was ever real

If I was ourside 

I'd be tempted to run into the road

Into ongoing traffic

That would hurt so badly

But maybe it would help

Maybe it would distract me

But it would hurt someone else

I still care about that right now

I still care about that right now

I still care about that right now

I still care ahoutr her right now 

.please

Just make it stop

Make me stop.

Please 

Wade just make it stop.

It's written into everything I say to you now

The silent I love you.

The thing I never got to say.

Fuck it all. 

I just want a chance to say it. 

I want you to know how I feel

I'm erratic

I'm losing my mind

Nothing makes sense anymore 

It's hard to breathe 

Nothing matters much anyway does it 

I hate that hope keeps trying to peek in 

I wish I was in my old house with my father 

I wish I was rotting away in the dark basement

I wish I could never come out again 

That I could stop working 

That I could go jump off a ledge and kill myself

Helium poisoning is popular and relatively painless. It looks like a better option than pesticide poisoning.

I keep fantasizing about cutting my wrists 

Pressing a razor to them

To my arms, to my legs

Feeling the blood pool 

Spill at my feet

Letting the pain stop for a little while

Just feeling numb. 

Just watching myself bleed. Maybe I'd feel more connected. Maybe I'd disassociate more. 

I keep thinking 

About stabbing myself in my stomach 

Pressing the blade in

I'd use a counter

I'd steady myself 

.it would be difficult and messy 

I'd probably end up calling the police department

Then what's the point? 

Another day, another dollar. 

Another day another dollar 

Housing prices rocketing 

A laundry list of exboyfriends 

Tiny moments of joy in between 

Ultimately, I think I've always been alone 

It would be such a relief.

I can pick a date. I can pick a method. I can look forward to it. 

The day it'll all be done. I can stop hurting.

I just wish it wouldn't hurt my family. I'd give so much for them to not be hurt by it. That's the only thing really seriously holding me back.

But I'm such a coward. I'd probably chicken out. I'd be too weak. I wouldn't be able to follow through. 

The only method of self harm I can actively do is starving myself

The only relief is I can start now with no water and food 

It'll take three days 

Three days snd it'll be over

I should keep a clock 

An alarm.

Alcohol poisoning.. there's so much shame in that. So much mess. I don't think I could stomach any of it. 

Why don't I feel the way I should? 

Why is this like this? 

I just fucking want it to stop.

pain

I don't know how to survive this

I don't want to survive this l

Make it stop, make it end, I'm done. I'm tired. Please. Please.

I don't want to get better. 

I don't want to feel anything else. 

I'm panicking.

I don't want to look at a single screen

I want to scream until my throat bleeds, until I die

I don't want to do this anymore. 

Please. please, why won't you let this be over. 

Why won't you just let this end now.

Why does he have to be like that. Why does he have to be so damn fine while I'm here like this. 

aching

I don't want to get better 

I want to rot away here in this room

I don't want a new job or a promotion 

I don't want to plunge forward

I don't want hope, I don't want joy, I don't want new experiences 

I want to waste away. I want to stop eating. I want to lose myself between awake and asleep. I want to not know what time it is because it all blurs together 

I want to think of him and to feel his absence and want him back 

I want him to take me 

I want to tell him I love him

I want him to hear it and I want him to feel it

I want the pain to stop but I also don't because 

If the pain stops 

What is this?

What am I? 

bad thoughts

 Talking to the suicide hotline isn't as effective after the first time

Pesticide poisoning is one of the most common ways in other parts of the world people kill themselves. Attempted and completing. 

Only trouble is there's a laundry list of side effects. I'm not sure how to get a hold of some.

There's prescription pills, but I don't have any and I doubt you can OD on Advil. 

I could start drinking. But then I survive that. And if I survive that, my life is ruined. If I survive, I don't want to fuck up any other chances I have if I change my mind. 

Every moment I'm alive is agony. Every breath. Every movement. There's no escaping it. I'm drowning. I wish I were dead. I wish the pain would stop. I wish he could have killed me. Or hurt me. I wish I was locked in some psych ward dosed up on meds so high I lose any sense of who and where I am. I wish I'd done the job years ago to cut down on the damage on those around me.

 

I just want this to stop. I'd do anything. Nothing is enough. Why does this always happen to me? What have I done?  Why can't things be good?

I don't understand.

Or maybe I do. Maybe I fucked up the one good thing there was in life and that was it. I got the one chance and now I'm condemned. This is punishment for that. For every wrong thing. For all of my sins. For everything my father has done. For everything I'll ever do.

I don't want to talk to anybody. I don't want to exist. I can't handle it. I can't do any of it. 

I would give anything to stop existing right here and now.

I don't know what's wrong with me

 God, I miss you.

It's been so long. It's been over a year since I saw you last. Since we said goodbye on your porch, since I told you I'd see you sooner than you thought and far longer than I thought.

I wonder to myself sometimes whether I miss the fantasy, but then I remember the connection. That thing I felt when I talked to my therapist about moving on - that undeniable tie that transcends things and I don't. Know. Why.

I try not to think about you and right when I get really good at it, right when you've vanished from my mind something happens and there you are again. I can't escape you. I am constantly haunted by this ghost of you. Every car I see might be yours, and yet, I don't want to look, I almost don't want to know.  

I don't know why I can't seem to let go of you, to move on. It's you. It just... is and there's no rhyme or reason. I know I might find someone else that is better for me. It'll be that or the rare chance that we end up bumping into each other or something.  

I just can't shake this weird bone-feeling that it's you despite it all. 

 

What's wrong with me? Why can't I move on?

The other one has been a distraction, burning time. A terrible one. Revealing so many things I struggle with, tearing open my wounds but I've finally given them space to breathe. I've changed so much this past year that it's crazy. I feel like a different person in good ways, in mature ways but I've lost that magic, that sense of purpose and god, I'm desperately trying to find it. 

I tried with LT. I tried giving something else a chance but for the life of me, I just don't want to date anymore. I don't want to date anyone. It doesn't have anything to do with you but, fine, it also has a tiny bit to do with you but I just... I don't want to. I just want to work on me. I want to spend time with myself. I don't want to have to worry about it. 

Why does it still feel like you a year later? Why is it so hard to look elsewhere?

Is there a purpose to this? Are my promptings and feelings still strong and true or am I knee-deep in the denial phase of it all?

 Please, somebody. I need answers. Some kind of lifeline.

Yet. I write this out and I still feel that sureness in my chest. I still feel like it's you, Brett.

What the hell is wrong with me?

missing: box of stardust

 I have forgotten

How to love

how to fall sincerely,

deeply, honestly,

over and over again

There is a young girl

Alone in a bedroom somewhere

Or perhaps in a high school auditorium 

Or maybe a meadow.

I hope sincerely that she's by herself

Instead of surrounded by hungry men

like starving wolves.

I hope she's collecting stardust

I hope she has it,

kept safe and sacred in a music box

Perhaps all that's left

is to find it and open it

I really hope she's hidden it well

I hope she's collected enough.

Thinking

 I can see my neighbor's black and white picture of Trump from my bedroom window. We've never met before but I know they have it on top of a shelf, the size unusually large and his expression serious like some kind of inside joke. They have a Christmas tree on their main floor and it looks homey. The people next door to them have a closet on the second floor with a bunch of clothes, this Christmas tree more festive than the other one. They have at least one kid and a dog and their kitchen is surprisingly bland.

I wonder about them sometimes when I'm home, wonder if they ever catch me dancing in my bedroom or if I'm really the only one peeking out my window, thinking. Wondering.

This winter has been unusually warm. Climate change at work, I guess. It leaves me wondering how we've already arrived at the future where I miss the snow, despite disliking it. Maybe I never really disliked it after all, just the idea of it. Or perhaps that's me romanticizing just something else from my past. Tends to happen. 

 I'm not sure if you're out there Brett, but I dreamt about you again. Last night you and Wex got engaged. The night before you came back into my life. You haunt me frequently, a strange phantom that lingers, watching. Waiting. I wonder if you'll get engaged (I hope not) and I'll be here, still peering out my window.

They delivered my new mattress today. In some ways, there was a sense of finality about it. I'd slept on a futon for so long and my mattress I'd been using was intended to be short term, but here the new one is. The movers brought it in, carrying it and delivering it before taking the old one down to the basement. It feels like there's something poetic about me carrying the old one up those flights of stairs all by myself a year and a half ago and now, movers escorting it back where it came from and bringing me something new, something mine. 

Aly's boyfriend tried to push her and I into having a threesome on Friday. He touched my hand, he played the charismatic role and then he tried to leave with me. I told her everything. It felt like success, like conquering the demons from what happened between Brett, Mason, and I. I did it. I turned down male advances, the desire to be liked, and I defended my friend and did everything I could that was morally right. As silly as it sounds, every little victory like that sings to me. I've done it. I'm doing it. I am better now. I will continue to be better. I am not that person any more.

Three nights ago I had a dream I was lying next to him. He looked at me and said, "You are so beautiful." and he looked almost breathless. I laughed, I laughed because it felt so absurd - so out of character and bizarre - for him to say that and he said it again. "You are so beautiful." and he meant it. That's how I knew it was a dream. The bar is oh-so-low.

Super Eyepatch Wolf has a fantastic video on Nathan Fielder. It pinpointed exactly why I love him and his work so much. While Nathan may be playing a role of a kind, his work really feels like an attempt for him to understand himself, to grow, to try and understand the people around him. I feel that way too. Lost, confused, playing the awkward and uncomfortable to encourage a reaction, to get people intrigued, to get people to like me. The scene in which he tells the woman to say she loves him and she remarks that he's tearing up hit me really hard. It felt so human. The desperation to connect. To find catharsis, emotional closure.

This has been a difficult year. One of growth. I'm determined to make next year better, to reclaim myself. I want the magic. I want to fight tooth and claw for beauty, for some kind of personal glory. I don't want to settle any longer. I think I might be strong enough now. I really feel more like a complete person, shedding past skin and self-inflicted anchors. I still have a few more to leave behind, to move past, but I'm trying. I'm really trying. 

I'm not really sure what the point of this is. Frankly, I just needed a place to talk and not feel like it's going just into the empty void. I'm not even sure if anyone will see this, but for some reason, even the slimmest chance someone might matters to me. Maybe this means something after all.

 I miss you.

I had a panic attack at the dentist today. They had to do two fillings and it was overwhelming. The dentist kept telling me 'youre doing great' and walking me through it, encouraging me to work on my breathing. I kept thinking 'they must be so confused at this twenty five year old girl that's freaking out at the dentist'. But I didn't really have anything else in me at the time, honestly. 

The other thing I kept thinking is that how much easier it would be if you were there with me. Squeeze my hand. Just knowing you were present.. I would know I wasn't alone.

It just feels that way all the time now.

I know I'm not. I know my mom and Aly and Jeff and others care but they don't see me like you do. I'm strong enough on my own - I did it, didn't I? And I have even more strength but.. it would have been so much easier with you. If you were there with me. 

I might not have even cried in my car afterwards or maybe I would have but you would have held me or made me laugh and the world would have been okay because we were together in it. 

I keep thinking there's a parallel universe that runs alongside this one where it's me and you doing it all. In this one, I'm trying to overcome the fact that I am so alone and use it as strength to propel me. In the other... We are happy. Blissfully, joyously happy and growing and learning together and I didn't fuck up or you forgive me or you trusted me and things were okay.

 

Or maybe you texted me or reached out after.

 

The point of this is. I fucking miss you.

I wish I had someone to turn to and say, "Holy fucking shit that bill for two fillings is $307.07 WITH insurance?!?" 

But I don't, not really. Sort of. But not really. 

If you were here, I'd hold your hand and we'd sit on my too-small bed together and you'd compliment the stars on my ceiling and it would be okay to feel as young and sad as I do on the inside and I would be all the stronger for it. I don't know why I need permission, but I do, apparently.

We'd sit together in the bathtub, myself in front of you. Or we'd sit at my favorite spot up the canyon. And I'd kiss your nose and that sensitive spot between your eyebrows. And I'd love you until the cows came home and the sun died. 

I guess the real point of this is that I really fucking miss you and you're not here. You haven't been physically here in a while and God, how it hurts. Somewhere you're out there and you're not here with me and I would do anything to get you back, even give you the time you need to heal.

I miss you. Oh, how I really, really miss you.