A year later.

4am 7/15/23

Why should I be anything but angry? I dont want to cry anymore, my face hurts so much when I do. The emotions just get so intense... But I want to be furious! I should be pissed I was put in a world that was meant to hurt ne. My entire childhood was full of gaslighting. I could have escaped. But I believed my abuser- and I didnt get to escape until she'd had enough of me. There-there was no reason... for me to say that all. I think I needed to get it out. She still makes me scared. She cant get to me anymore, but I still feel like she's here watching me. Bringing up every awful memory and making me relive them.

Today was a good day for once. This morning I broke down again. I was certain i'd ruined everything. It still weighs my bones down. I feel it in my guts.. I really really love Hannibal. I resonate with Will Graham so wholeheartedly, his descent into his madness. His desire to help everyone even though it feels like you're giving up everything and getting nothing back. But I dont have a Hannibal to obsess over and lead me like he does. Excited to finally see season 3.

Midnight 7/18/23

Starting my new job wednesday, can't wait to rejoin the mundane and enjoy the societal norms that is treating me like shit. I knew eventually i'd have a job again, but I really hoped we would be fine till I was more ready. I'm really dreading working in food again.

I still have no feasable explaination for the hatred of my peers yet. 'The Fury' by Alexabder Gordon Smith is a book that has always resonated with me, and the sitatuion the characters are in feel similar to my own. Except they have some holy entity in them making the humans attack them. But for me.. Its more inate then that. Their minds tolerate me for a little while before the chemistry seems to take over and they begin to hate me. Some pity me. And that feels almost worse. I'd like a plausible explaination, something reasonable.

But when I look at the clouds they dont feel real. When my eyes open I dont recognize the blinds, they move and over lap. Shaping strangely before they re-assert themselves. My dreams are vivid and tangeable. I hold people and loved ones, theres impressions more then certainties. Locations I can recall more clearly then any place I've lived in. Canopys of trees over swampy rives, oceans full of shipwrecks with ghosts. I fight wars and bleed for freedom. I can fly- Make memories and relationships.

I wish I could stay asleep.

A weekend alone

My first day on the job I get sick right away, really looking great. Frustrated beyond belief with how excessive my feelings are. I feel bad for protecting myself, for speaking up. Asking for the bare minimum feels like I'm asking too much.

He's gone away for the weekend to see his family, this could be the chance I have to really let it all out. I can rave and destroy this place and not feel awful. It'll be good to finally cry without having to hide it. To stifle it so I'm not interrupted during my grief. All the time I cry when I dont want to, and when I need to theres something or someone stopping me.


He's home finally, I ran to his car a block away while he was picking up from the smoke shope. Seeing him back relieves so much worry. I was scared he was going to die on the way back, or that he wouldn't be coming back anyway. I was worried it had been a fluke. Thank god it wasn't. I'd rather be miserable in company.

I want to draw cats again

The dreams

Its been persisting for weeks now, the location has remained relatively the same. My little mind Island with its secret wonders is being invaded. I am hunted, crawling through the edges of the mindscape to avoid the things chasing me. Physical represenations of my shitty thoughts and desires running me down. Waiting for me to become exhausted and give up. And I did. For a moment my dream form collapsed beneath the weight of the concept crushing me. It pressed me down and whispered in my ear. It wore my dream friends face, it smiled with malice. He kissed me, it lingered and burned. I woke up feeling his hands pressing into my shoulder. My Green eye'd prince is working against me. He was corrupted in that dream, twisted by daydreams and nightmarers. The heat of his breath on my neck and cheek still make me shiver. It was so real- When I woke it felt like part of me was back there. Still pinned on the spaceship. But there is never an escape from the island.


Sometimes I still peak at her profile, make sure she's doing okay. But nothing hurts more then scrolling through and seeing that nothings changed since I left. Knowing that my departure didnt seem to change anything. My importance is miniscule to the universe. Maybe thats why everyone hates me? Because of my uselessness. I used to try so hard. And I can't anymore, the effort kills me when I get nothing. No confirmation that i'm doing the right thing. That what I did mattered.

Maybe I am a narcacist? Is it selfish to wish she hadn't forgotten my birthday? Even though she had promised not to... I know I said i was seperating for our health, but I still care. I still want to feel like you care. You're words on the screen are hollow.

I just wish the people I loved, loved me the way I loved them.

Minor things feel large even when its probably not related to me. But I'm so scared it is.

The betweens

When the trauma leaves mealone for a bit, and the drugs do their jobs. Theres the betweens. When I have nothing in me. When I'm only tired. Exhausted from my months of stress and anxiety. Its empty and numb. Full of my procrastinations, lack of desire. But its these times i find myself resting. This empty hollow time is a moment of relaxation. I'm not brimming with too much energy or emotion.

Mounting uncertainty

I've done a bunch of aesthetic updates to the website and might continue that tomorrow. I'm not sure how i'm feeling as of recent, It feels like i'm in that in between moment again. But.. I'm alos just growing to accept the fact I should give up on being peoples friends and loved one. Theres only so much I can take. And now in my mid twenties its feeling like the last 26 years really show what my future is going to be. I'm constantly waiting for everythign to to crumble down. The intrusive thoughts get louder with my boredom.

Disease theory

I've seen a lot of people in our little niche corners feeling the way I do. Agreeing that this isn't our world, that the worlds against them. And I wonder if they have the same problem as me. How many of us are Diseased with this? How many people out there need to hear that we hear you. They always tell us not to surround ourselves who feel the same way so that we can work through those feelings. But that isn't always the case. Sometimes those people who want to help leave anyway. And what remains is something worse then nothing. Its knowing that you had no power to stop it.

The Disease pleagues our everyday, it makes my stomach hollow and my head ache. I watch their eyes turn from friendly to hateful. Even without talking to someone, even when I am dressed unassuming. They look at me with disgust for existing. Is the Disease meant for people who dont belong on this earth? Trying to push us out before we can catch onto whats happening? I wonder to myself this all the time.

If its a Disease then there would be a cure, that cure could be in different forms for people who feel this way. I haven't found anything for myself. I've lived 26years now of watching this Disease take away my friends and family. Its killing my relationship.

Its killing me.


Its that in between time again, though i'm sick right now. Motivation remains fleeting, my tinitus as been awful. And my body is slowly falling apart.

They're all just waiting for me to die. I am too, but they're not being proactive about it.

I really want to finish a project, I miss making comics. But I feel guilty for never completeing them.


Started on comic stuff again, forcing myself to complete pages in an hour. So far its been fun, and if it looks okay I'll post it on my site.


And of course I promise myself to start something, and the moment i discuss it I cant continue it. Whats the point anymore? I can't complete any projects. Never have. I hate this world. My momentary pleasure in lifes small things are taken quickly away. My day is reminder of awful memories. I'm tired of living. I've really been wrestling with my decision to end it. Now that I have life insurance from this job that would cover funeral costs. He says things without meaning, and i know those are his honest thoughts. I see in his eyes when he's disapointed. Just trying to appease me because he thinks i'll break. But I break totally when he apolagizes.

Its my fault, all of it. It always has been. Even when i've done nothing but breathe I know where the blame goes. Their eyes turn to me. And I know from my toes to my knose that I am the guilty. But they will not provide my execution.


Everyday my mind deterioates faster and faster, I work on less and less. My eyes stare into the void and old scenarios play like flickering screens behind the veil. Everyday of december I have asked myself when i'll grab my check and make my purchase. And then I ask myself 'would my death ruin christmas and his birthday though?' It might, it might just reset. If I finally kill myself does that mean I've left reality? Or will I wake back up again? Will there be an endless nothing like I've always wanted? My ears ring and buzz under the sound of everything. The clones bicker and mimic, vomiting up commentary thatthen drips from my mouth. The important things are lost. I remember unnessecary information. Only the past and dreams are my waking visions. Life has stagnated.

Someone I hoped was my close friend has been tricked. If he continues to believe this emotional trickery then I will lose a friend.


Everything is ruined, I have little to no one. My love walks on eggshells with me, his eyes betray his feelings. When wil lthey kill me already?

Life is boring, I am aware and awake in my fear and paranoia. My mind sharp as my blade. I want violence and blood. To smile and be real. Be me.

My face is a facade, feelings are surface.

what if i've always been Carol?

I want more

They all think i'm joking when i'm serious. They always think i'm making a fucking joke. Do i have to beat them or scream for them to get the picture? Has the sickness grown so twisted in its design as to recorrect their minds like this? They're trying to push me out already. I have done everything to keep my headdown. And already they dont want me.

Death could come no sooner. Maybe December is right. I dont want to be tricked into the hope of a new year.

I want it to be over. I want peace.