2020-03-23 05:03:18 (UTC)

a meander through this cold morning

"Coconut Ranger" by Jack Stauber [I wanna marry this guy, but he's 23, which is the cursed age that is close to mine but at once feels much, much older. Which doesn't really make too much sense. I dated a 23 year old briefly when I was 19—but he was weeeeird—and Diego is 22, so I guess it shouldn't really be. A thing. I dunno, Jack Stauber just seems much to secure in adult and creative life. He has amount of discipline I'm worried I will never match.]

I'll hold you closer in a second
There's something weighing heavy on my teeth
What's my deal?
I'm just so glad that you're real
I'll make you dinner in a minute
Got a feeling and it's writhing out
Don't blink your ears
I'm just so glad that you're here

March 23, 2020 Monday 5:05 AM

I just spent the last hour, thereabouts, masturbating. Yes. It is indeed 5 in the morning, but these past couple nights I haven't been able to sleep. I was hoping my lack of sleep from last night would encourage an early night tonight, but no such luck. I should take a melatonin on this, the first Monday to occur in 10 years.

My horniness has been especially intense these past couple days. I think it must be a combination effect of cuddling with Diego last week (cuddling never fails to produce a puddle in my pants. This may be a puddle of piss, it may be a pool of viscous vaginal secretions—who's to tell?) and this being the fertile point in my cycle. Egg really do be ready to get penetrated, ya know? I masturbated yesterday night too, and it resulted in three furtive orgasms and, earlier in the night, an impulse online purchase of a dildo vibrator and some lube (because I have none). So that's cool. Will I regret this? We will see. Tonight I managed 3.5 orgasms (the .5 being a kind of short-lived aftershock from my first orgasm). I don't go into this activity with a goal in mind or anything, but I'm a hungry bitch and this is the kind of bullshit I do :/ I happened to have a very wonderful g-spot orgasm, so that was very nice.

The inside of the vagina is so weird.... I feel like, it's supposed to be soft and giving, like this ideal constricting mechanism, a tube made out of tongue material—but, like, it's more like a tongueless-toothless (hopefully) mouth in a lot of ways. There's even a cartilaginous roof, which is so *bizarre* wow.

Ugh, now I can't stop thinking about that movie, Teeth, and how much I really like the ending and the overarching concept, of a lack of respect as far as men go, and the weird spiral that can occur once you've been abused once (both in terms of guilt, and in the sense that someone who has been abused is more likely to be abused again). And her little smile at the end. God, it was good. And disgusting. I wonder if this is the kind of horror movie I can consider as a favorite. I'd have to rewatch it to see if it holds up to my memory. It's been a couple years since I saw it (back when I lived with Goose in summer 2018).

Also, I just want to touch on the paranoia I experience every time I finish masturbating. I always have to go to the bathroom afterwards, to pee and clean up and all, and I always feel SO paranoid that my roomies have heard me. My one roommate is always up at weird hours, and right now she is in the living room. She shouldn't have heard me, I was being quiet (I'm always quiet), but I'm still sooo worried all the time. Like, if anything, my upstairs neighbors would've heard me first, since I can hear them talking (muffled) and walking around (dropping shit and dragging it around way more than seems normal—I keep trying to figure out what they could POSSIBLY be doing up there). They're awake right now too.

We got a noise complaint from them last week, for the very fair reason of: we were, 4 people (me, Nadiya, Matt and Sonya) in my room yelling at around 4:30 in the morning. I feel like if we'd been in any other room it'd have been fine, but my room is directly under theirs (which is why I can constantly hear them while my roommates mostly only hear them in the common rooms as far as I know). I feel bad about that, and I keep trying to justify it in my head being all, "well, they make noise all the time, including in the middle of the night" (in fact, they dropped something at around 1 PM yesterday, which woke me up. But I'm kind of thankful for that, because it was 1 fuckin' PM and I hate sleeping past noon, despite doing it VERY frequently). But their main complaint was that we did it on a week day (last Thursday) and they had work and I imagine our yelling was more constant than their weird scraping/dropping/chatting pattern that they seem to have going on.

That day I was super drunk. Like, REALLY drunk. I let myself go. The last time I did that was in early February, haha.... Ugh. Disgusting. I think it was a result of the stressful situation with Diego (I cried a lot about it, trying to figure out if I liked him, and missed him, or what the fuck was going on. If I liked him, why couldn't I tell? I feel a lot better about it. Put it simply, I guess I wanna kiss him and I like talking to him and being around him; and that's probably all I need to know right now, especially knowing we are never going to happen now that he's gone indefinitely. We've been talking every day, but I keep expecting that to end, and I am going to end it first, because of course I will. I almost *intend* it.).

The more immediate reason I let myself get so drunk had to do with anxiety. I really didn't feel like drinking at all, I just wanted to watch a documentary on Daniel Johnston. But I felt really agitated and Nadiya was anxious as fuck because she wasn't yet sure if she was going back to Singapore or not (long story), so I decided to have a little drink, and before I even got a little drunk I was feeling extremely hot. So much that the back of my hand was red and so was my face and so were my ears. I got frustrated, because neither Nadiya nor Matt seemed to take it seriously at first, and I was actually very paranoid that I was experiencing some sort of bacterial infection (my mind went immediately worried that it had somehow entered my bloodstream). I started to feel unfocused and nauseas so I went to my room and told them to start without me if they needed to, because I needed to lie down. Matt asked if I was okay and I said I was fine (because I am always fine and I also didn't really want any help with whatever was happening).

In my room, I realized I felt like crying, and I didn't know why. Nadiya knocked on my door a few minutes later and I started crying for some reason and then I couldn't breathe and my hands/head were tingling and, as a result of the whole not-being-able-to-breathe thing, my vision was getting really spiky and spotty. I was breathing really deeply but it wasn't working and I remember thinking, that it was happening again, and that it really was a very interesting feeling, the way my lungs felt so... useless, inert, like balloons in my chest. The needly way my body prickled, the lightness of my head, heaviness of the extremities. I eventually calmed down and had Nadiya leave. I had trouble breathing for a little while after that, but eventually calmed down enough. I was kind of embarrassed and I felt nervous about having experienced what I just experienced, kind of let down. It might've been an interaction of my medication with the migraine medicine I took earlier or maybe the migraine was a result of the oncoming anxiety attack. It's important to note, however, that I did recently go up to 200 mg of lamictal, so it might've been a side effect of that.

Anyway, I really let myself go. Like, really. I kept talking about my "trauma." I even texted my sister, because Nadiya was worrying (to put it lightly) about her chronically ill and depressed little brother, and how she wanted to help but part of her also didn't want to go back and see him, and I didn't know how to help, but I said maybe my sister might be able to shed light on the experience on having a younger sibling experiencing some sort of crisis while she was too far away to help (maybe she felt like Nadiya, and didn't want to come home. God knows I wouldn't have wanted to come home either). So I texted my sister, and it was like 5 am so my sister answered (she gets up early).

I regretted that sooo much after I woke up, because I realized I was very fucking uncomfortable discussing literally anything serious regarding myself with my sister. We've had conversations about it before, but never explicitly about her feelings, and I realized I might die if I learned about how it made her feel. I felt bad, but I cancelled the conversation using Nadiya as an excuse (with Nadiya's permission).

Nadiya was supposed to leave for Singapore on Saturday. She bought tickets under pressure from her very worried parents, who thought the international flights might be grounded soon (which is looking to be the case). She was kind of an indecisive mess, begging me, in a way, to give her a reason to stay. At the last minute, like literally at the time she was supposed to leave to go to the airport, she made the decision to stay with permission from her parents. Greg drove down from Mass, he was supposed to help her get to the airport. He was kind of mad she cancelled, but I think he very quickly forgave her.

Nadiya was pretty upset for quite a bit after that, and I tried my best to listen and help. This experience, I think, really highlighting the potential dangers of her indecision. She has been angsting very much over this decision since the school was closed, and has sincerely not wanted to leave Providence but, due to family pressures, she felt a responsibility to go. But after they granted her the choice, she felt a lot better about it and decided to leave on Sunday (last night).

I am still kind of numb about it. I have been a little stressed about this either, trying to adjust my expectations of the coming weeks to whether or not I'd have the security of a close friend nearby, or if I'd have to find different ways to connect. But honestly, either way I would be okay, even if I didn't want her to leave. I will be super okay, and I was nowhere near as stressed as she was. Still, I was really fucking relieved when she decided to leave. I really didn't like not knowing. Matt's really sad and stressed about it, but I'm not, and I don't think I will be. I know I'll see Nadiya again. My fears really only come from an insecurity, that our friendship won't be the same after this; because this last week was the last time it was just us living and sharing space together, not including Maria or Matt. I love them all, but I've felt very compatible with Nadiya roommate-wise. I've been roommates with a lot of people, including Matt, and it's not quite like this. Matt is kind of needy, as much as I love him. I don't know yet about Maria, but I'm a bit threatened because she is equally as close to Nadiya as I am (plus, we're close) and I wonder how the new dynamic between us all will work now that we'll be living together next year.

But I know it will be fine. At least we'll be together.

Today, it made me happy when I told Nadiya that I had texted Diego about her deciding to stay and then deciding to leave in quick succession; he said, wow, and to think I was going to congratulate her on staying with you (for some reason he was hoping I would have company—invested in my wellbeing. Disgusting but nice). Nadiya laughed. She said, "I really like him!" and it made me feel very proud of Diego for eliciting that response in someone whose opinion matters so much to me. It's kind of shameful how much that effects the way I perceive him, but it does. I was so pleased with how well the two got along when Diego was at our house last week. So so so pleased.

So, yeah, that's essentially an update on what's happening here. In other news, I have been thinking about the peculiarities of this pandemic, and the way it manifests itself online; the way a lot of retailers email you about the way they choose to address COVID-19, and how many jokes are on the internet, and how many urging from influencers keep saying "Social distancing! Wash your hands!" I respect their use of their position in society to promote this kind of thing. I saw a tweet tonight, from a young guy who lost his dad to COVID-19, and I felt really—affected by that. I have known people are dying, but I guess, like a lot of people, I keep thinking of it in terms of numbers and risk, and not as individual cases—individual people with families and loved ones directly affected by the disease. It just... made all the jokes seem a little less funny. I saw this instagram post later, from this account Blahsum (a band account, I think, although I follow it for the aesthetic and I've never heard their music). It showed a couple people, presumably the band members, and it said with a mock news headline at the bottom, "Breaking news: Blahsum tested positive for COVID-19," and I think it was a little topical (somehow) joke because there was no explanation in the description beyond the regular stuff, hashtags and all. And it felt sort of tasteless to me, to do that sort of thing when people are actually dying, and losing their jobs, and struggling in general with the knowledge that, yeah, this is going to be happening indefinitely.

It bothered me. I've been thinking about Elise lately, what she'd think about all this. Her memory comes up at funny times. Her birthday was last month. I forgot it, but I did manage to remember the anniversary of her death earlier this month, and that switcheroo seems wrong but I guess the greatest impact she really had on my life *was* her death. As much as I wish I knew her better in life, that was not the case—I was afraid of her in a lot of ways. We had a phone call together, and I remember being so anxious. I have no idea anymore what her voice had sounded like. Anyone I knew that also knew her has long disappeared from my life. I always remember most vividly that last entry, of her talking about the snowfall, because I read it a few times before I even knew she died (she didn't usually take so long to update; it had been more than a month). What a weird fucking time, what a really awful time. I hate thinking of her, sometimes, because I feel guilty about how much I mourned over the loss of the friendship I felt I squandered (I mean, did I even have the right?), of the beautiful person (cliché and ineffective description) that just, like, randomly vanished.

She would've been 21 now, which means she died 5 years ago. Wonder what she would've done for her birthday? Would she be in her third year of college now? Studying psychology like she thought she might? Or would she be pre-med, following the path of psychiatry (I feel like she wouldn't like that so much—so clinical, but who knows)? Would she be taking an art course this semester? Who would her friends be? What would her thoughts on this whole thing be—would she be concerned with the same things I am concerned with? Would she still be using this website? What kind of music would she like now? I recently found this math rock song she would really fucking enjoy (Biblical Violence by Hella). It's an oldish song, so I actually think she probably already knew it because I think I remember her mentioning the band in an entry. Would she be able to listen to Sparkehorse, or would it make her too sad? What about Jack Stauber? I bet she'd like his animations, but who doesn't? I dunno, just a lot of dumb little questions that no one can answer.

Anyway, that's everything about tonight. I wonder what she'd think of me. Whether we'd still know each other. I'll go now. I feel okay, I really do! And that's a nice feeling.

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