Ad 2:
2020-04-28 23:08:23 (UTC)


"Science Beat" by Have a Nice Life [I can't stop listening to this song even though it's been a couple weeks since I found it]

Hold my feet to the fire
I’m bent by these desires, never met, nor required
And I’m not one for
I’m not one for
I’m not one for
I’m not one for the irony
Lay my head in the flames
“Are you glad I came?”
And I look myself in the face
And I don’t see anything
I don't see anything (see anything)

All along, I’ve felt an invisible hand guiding my errant heart
I consume and am consumed in part

April 28, 2020 Tuesday 11:10 PM

The best approach is that of kindness. Let us approach ourselves out-selves—whatever, let's be nice. I've been feeling sort of blah, beginning to wonder if social distancing is getting to me. I'm certainly getting moody. I get annoyed that my roommate is always hanging out in the kitchen. And even though I'm exercising regularly my sleep patterns are not regular, haha. Finals are basically happening at the start of next week, and I've been feeling very shitty, sleeping through classes for weeks now (slowly giving up). I'm not depressed, though. I know when I list it all out here, it sounds like I am depressed—I can't find joy in my schoolwork, can't sleep or if I do sleep I sleep for like 10 hours, anxiety, restlessness. Idk besides that I've been ok, I feel ok, I feel... I don't feel depressed??? I think I must just be deep-down anxious but I am unaware of it and it comes out in weird ways. Or I'm irreversibly lazy, which is actually my preferred hypothesis.

I don't want to figure out what's going on, if anything. I don't want to feel ashamed. I started thinking, does it matter if I get shitty grades this semester? Really, does it matter? My GPA goes down—so what? I'm a fucking writer/editor, not a doctor, so who the fuck is looking at my GPA? On the other side of it, I might pull a great GPA if I do well (which I won't) but what would it matter if I didn't have any works to put into my portfolio (which, either way, I don't)? Well, okay, these hypotheticals are just making me sad.

My writing has improved. That I know. I started thinking, that maybe I need to find a sense of worth outside of academic stuff, outside of so-called "doing well"? Like, maybe I just need to feel proud of the little things I like doing and I like creating? I dunno, I haven't thought it through. It sounds easy, but if I haven't made anything—and what if I can't make anything? Idk. But it seemed like such a rich potential a few hours ago, because I got some feedback from my professor for my midterm paper on Solaris, which I worked *really* hard on. I got a 100! [note: not sure if a 100 is a reflection of how well-written it is or how intensive her grading was. It could've been an easy A, is what I'm saying, so my enthusiasm is a little hampered by that].But I still have a 72 in her class because my attendance is so poor. My attendance is poor because I don't sleep well so I have a really hard time waking up.

(About this time I wish I had the disability accommodations I applied for earlier this semester? What ever happened to that lol. But idk if I'd have felt comfortable using those anyways. Probably would've been more helpful last semester when I was *actually* depressed. I'm not depressed right now, I'm just fucking tired lol).

I tried to talk to my parents about it on facetime and uhhh it didn't go well!! Lol. They knew I was having a hard time this semester, but then I think I was being a bit too flippant about "failing" (which, I'll probably only fail one class. And if I fail multiple then I'll be on academic probation, which is really bad, but hopefully that won't happen). My mom started freaking out and talking about how much money goes in to my education, which, I know. It's suuuper expensive, even with financial aid; I wouldn't even be here if my grandpa wasn't paying half of it. I don't want to disappoint anyone!! Ugh I was just so mad and I know I was being pissy because I felt bad so I said goodbye and hung up, and my mom texted me awhile later saying she didn't want me to feel alone. I sent my dad my essay on Solaris like he asked and he sent this in reply:
I never doubted you for a minute.

And then:
I read a few pages of it.
Somehow I can’t read you writing about suicide. It tears me up. Even though you are talking about
a character in a movie comitting re-suicide in cyborg form. The idea of angst and despair leading to suicide is the only thing
in my life to gives me angst and despair. I still think of you as a fragile creature. A very smart fragile creature, capable
of finding meaninglessness in life by searching for meaning and not finding it. Most people cannot find meaninglessness
because they mostly don’t search for meaning in the first place. They just plod through life following instructions.
I am blessd to have meaning in my life — you, Caroline, your mom, and, a very distant second, my viola and Bach.

Hari is not a cyborg, she is an alien life form, but anyway, this made me cry, they both make me cry. I started studying immediately after hanging up, so maybe the conversation was effective, lol! I don't want them to be so worried, but I understand why there are. It feels terrible that I've affected their memory so deeply. I mean, of course, but most of the time I forget that I tried to die, because it's been 7 years. 7 years ago at this day/time I was in a shared bedroom and I was probably already asleep or at the very least lying awake in the dark. Who knows what I was like back then. I really liked Kurt Vonnegut and Catcher in the Rye. I was reading the Grimm Fairytales. I wanted to lose weight. Idk. I rarely look back at any time before I got to college, mostly because I hate seeing how upset I was all the time. I don't like that person, I don't want to BE that person.

But that's beside the point. Of course they remember. I mostly remember my mom *remembering.* Saying stuff I don't want to think about, etc. etc. Dad was mostly just always suspicious of me for the following year, asking if I was manic (I wasn't), asking if I was anorexic (no), and also—oh my god. I forgot this. For a long time I wasn't allowed to take my pills alone, they kept them in box that locked with a code, and at night one of them would have to open it and give it to me. I remember for awhile I was pretending to take one of the medications and hiding it in this little hollow eiffel (is tht how u spell it) tower figurine, but apparently they were doing searches of my room because they found it and I got in a fight with my mom. After that I made a new hiding space in this little cheap Ottoman I had. It wasn't a real Ottoman, it didn't have storage, but it *was* hollow so I just cut a slit in the bottom fabric and hid shit in the wooden frame. I had a small heart-shaped wooden box with some pills I accumulated over the years and some other paraphernalia that was not dangerous, just angsty (letters, cut out picture of someone smoking a cigarette, idk man I was performatively depressed back then). I have the box now too, bc it's cute, but I use it to hold my earrings lmao.

Ok! Woowww. Interesting memories can just kind of recede and lie dormant for so long. Anyway, I guess I just—feel bad for causing my parents so much anxiety and worry, and I know they're doing a lot for me. Always have done a lot for me. I don't want to disappoint them, I really don't. I feel like I'm a recovery story or something. Maybe that's dramatic. I'm—I kinda feel fuzzy, so I'm not sure how much of this is reflecting what I actually think and feel.

I love my parents so, so, so, so, so, so much. We had a bad conversation today. I am at fault. One of these days I'll be independent enough that they won't have to feel responsible for how well or how poorly I am performing.

yX Media - Monetize your website traffic with us