fall out boy
6/26/25
She was fundamentally useless as a partner.
I don’t blame her. I understand why they say that two people with developing personality disorders should not be in a relationship. Much less with blooming ASPD.
Typically, you support your partner’s goals or interests. You want to see them succeed. None of that really existed here. At some point I had no desire to see her thrive, but I could at least pretend that I did. By the time she started being a normal lover, she was gone.
She used to throw rocks at random people during PE class. She almost tried poisoning a bullied autistic classmate because she just felt like it. She went into extensive detail about how she was raped as a child by a man in the Target family restroom, only to admit years later that she thought it was a fun little lie. I told her I was thinking of hanging myself because I thought she fell in love with a girl from her church, which seemed to snap her back.
We both did have forms of trauma going on so intimacy wasn’t really a thing. I dealt with that frustration in ways that I refused to share with others. Before she vanished into thin air, she talked about her desire for a long-term relationship. She longed to spend ordinary life together and go on fancy dates and waste Sundays being lazy in bed when the time came. It went in one ear and out the other. The words didn't hold much weight anymore.
Being in such a nothingburger relationship for so long, I mentally checked out. You want me to be in your life permanently, suuuuuure buddy. I probably would have enjoyed roleplaying a romantic domestic lifestyle with her, but I’ve had a better find since she disappeared. A real one, I often pray.
I think about her sudden declaration of wanting to be life partners. I’ve started to believe that the last few years have been a karmic punishment for my reaction at that time. I’m no longer allowed to be too picky with my romantic needs.
She became aware of my existence again last month. She fell in love with a dweeby younger guy who lets her maneuver him around. She apparently forgave me, but she doesn’t have to. I have never seen her be pleasant to others.
I have seen fragments of the past her in everyone that I’ve since fallen in love with, as unfortunate as it sounds. I forgive her for being deeply unpleasant. She was someone who I loved but vehemently disliked. She was useless, and that's okay.
aspiring daughter
6/13/25
Tomorrow I will be graduating college, and I am mourning.
The first two years of undergrad were wasted at a small community college. The last two years were highlighted by some of the worst decisions I have ever made. The years themselves weren't bad. I did a lot of things that I could never share to others and that I would rather not even remember. I met a lot of people (I sure did). I dropped a solid 50 pounds over the course of two years and I'm not done yet. I still have a few months of summer to fully milk what is left of this part of my youth.
I have been thinking a lot about youth lately. I spoke with a man who was always a part of bustling city life. He had been living in the city with his wife since they married about four years ago. He was six years older than me, and he spoke about that six year deficit like he struck gold. His wife is older than him, ironically the same age as my lover.
The conversation wasn't nearly as disturbing as the man from way up north who despised his wife and fantasized about torturing young women, but still an offputting exchange. The city man had no remorse for his comments because he had felt this way years before getting married. It was weird to hear him disparage his wife and compare specific parts of her body against a 22 year old's only to say that he still loves her as a person. Mentally, I pray for that poor woman. Selfishly, I fear for myself.
Fearing a lack of loyalty is reasonable. Fearing that you're not good enough is reasonable. Both keep people in line, to some extent. Like growing out hair or dropping 50 pounds. The city man clearly does not like his wife, but I noticed that he also clings to the pre-marriage days where he looked a lot better. Wouldn't he want to look good for his wife too? What if his wife is getting down with the even-younger neighbor?
I was still 21 a few months ago. In a severe depressive episode, I was almost a participant of a dubious (and likely extremely dangerous) drug exchange. The mechanics of that situation would have been horrible so I ended up breaking my purge-free streak and downing pills and drinking myself to sleep instead. You can probably still get away with that as a 21 year old. The post I made to try to endanger myself on my 22nd was not as bad, but it could have been. You can probably still get away with that if you're freshly 22. After undergrad, those drug exchanges make you a used-up junkie whore. During undergrad, that's just a sketchy frat party.
I am also mourning things and people that were never actually there in the first place, but when am I not? That's a story for another time.
I think about the city man, and the tweaker way up north, and probably every other man I have interacted with. I understand why women my age have become psychotic freaks for twelve step anti-aging skincare routines. Even as a college girl, you mourn your youth.
It doesn't matter how old the other person is. I will likely never be young enough.
bring back shame
3/11/25
Throughout my entire adolescence and early adulthood, I have struggled with remorse. I haven't been great to others, I have lied so much that I lost track, and I've committed some legally dubious acts. I can't remember the last time I genuinely felt guilty over something I did. I usually only felt negatively over being confronted over whatever I did.
I experience shame quite a bit. I think shame is always a good thing to keep people at least seeming well-adjusted. Even then, remorse and shame borrow from each other a bit. Why am I only conscious of how others are going to perceive me? Why is that the only factor keeping me from doing something that isn't wise?
I've tried to bring this up when I was going to therapy because I really want to figure out where that mindset started. Those conversations never really went anywhere. Either my impulse control issues are that bad that I don't care about the effects, or I just have that extreme self-centeredness that plagues those who are Cluster B.
I obviously enjoy never having to feel guilty but I don't know how I feel about the common Cluster B perspective of everything being someone else's fault. Sometimes I am the problem. Not lately, but sometimes.
valentine's in omaha
2/??/25
I see red in the corner all the time. I wonder if they're neglected (they never are). I wonder if there was a desperate attempt to salvage them (there always is). It's always an accident, though, so it's fine. Reassuring.
There's a dresser, a drawer, a closet, an otherwise neglected cup holder. I throw garbage in my cup holder but at some point this starts to feel malicious. It's taunting and I often fight the urge to roll my eyes. I am much too sober to deal with this.
I have always wondered why I'm the one who has to change. I don't know, and I never will, but I am reassured. Once again, it's fine.
sensitive young man
2/5/25
In the last few months I've had some people from my past pestering me. There are a lot of people that I would like to reconnect with, and that includes none of the people who reached out. Definitely not him.
He remembered all of the nerd shit that I was into, and I felt a lump in my throat. There was something nice about having a vessel who you could dump all of your annoying interests onto. I lied about everything else when I knew him, though.
He said I was a lot more "bold" than he remembered because I expressed my actual motives with him. I couldn't keep up with my own lies. I think he finally realized that he dodged a bullet.
He brought up my weight loss and that was great. He wished me good luck with my love life and I was extremely annoyed.
genesis
1/25/25
My hypersexuality is going to ruin my life.
It has been an issue since my early childhood, but when I actually became sexually active I got myself into some awful encounters. Somehow I'm less upset about the actual trauma and more upset with the quality of sex. The frustration that haunted me would nudge me towards danger, even though deep down I knew it wouldn't do anything for me. It's not fair to my psyche either.
I think that leaning towards kink removes a lot of the expectations surrounding actual pleasure. As a submissive I get to be outside of my head, controlled by an external force. The mental aftermath is always incredibly unpleasant, though.
I have repeatedly dissociated during sex, regardless of actual roughness. In those moments I was no longer inhabiting my body, instead being an unwilling witness. I'm not sure how else to explain it. It's one of those things that I desperately avoid ruminating over.
I liked the name Genesis. I hate that I accidentally assigned it to the worst side of myself.
waterproof
12/11/24
Just because the truth isn't easy to chew and swallow doesn't mean you shouldn't try to digest it. You're not allowed to stick your fingers in your throat as soon as it makes its way down. There is a massive difference between what you want and what you actually deserve.
I don't want to imply that something horrible will happen, but maybe. It's good to think about what you actually need. Step back for a bit.
If you really wanted to love your life, you would go ahead and [REDACTED]. I didn't even know they made waterproof blankets.
I've been screaming and thrashing on concrete for the last fifteen months. My arms are so ashy.
matthew
12/??/24
I identified as transmasculine for some time when I was younger. I haven't felt that way for a few years since I realized that no matter what my body looks like, I will likely never be satisfied.
I went by a few names. One of those names has stuck as my online alias for seven years now. Another name was Matthew. I have always liked the sound and also saw it as a potential baby name.
From December 2021 to March 2022 I had somewhat of a psychotic episode. I was entirely convinced that I was a late 20s man named Matthew and I did something so horrible in my past life that I was reborn into the body of a suicidal bulimic young woman. During those few months I was looking to buy the perfect axe, among other things. There were also extensive plans regarding a suicide in the woods. To this day I still remember exactly what I was supposed to look like.
Matthew hasn't come back since then. This period of my life really amped up my desire to escape to the woods, though.
a signature bracelet as a gift
12/??/24
"Retrovertigo" by Mr. Bungle started playing and I almost started crying. It's not a song that makes me cry but it reminded me of summer.
I remember having to go to the doctor all the time because I had to get blood work done or get meds. I hated walking home through that dry field. Everything was so quiet.
I met a lot of new people and some of them were great. I showed as much of my body as I could, hoping I would feel more comfortable in my skin. I also dyed my hair brown to look more "ideal". I was incredibly hungover for my new hire training that next morning.
I hate how much I hated myself during those few months. I was in the depths of my eating disorder and would go to bed afraid that I wouldn't wake up. In August I realized something and it made me feel physically ill. I desperately wanted to know what I was lacking. I needed to know why I was never enough.
I never want to see myself that way again.
comfortable
11/??/24
I often keep people at arm's length. I didn't realize how much I kept from others until I got closer to you. I've told you a lot. I think I've told you too many negative things and not enough about what I actually enjoy. Maybe I wasn't descriptive enough in your card. I don't know how to express this much love and admiration without embarassing myself.
Are you scared yet? When I first tried telling you that I loved you, you never said it back because you were "scared".
the waiting game
11/??/24
It's post-it day and I feel a buzzing in my head.
In what world would that ever matter? None of them. In my world, though, absolutely. There's a difference between my perception and objective reality though. I'm seeing the most blatantly obvious signs in front of me and I just choose to ignore them. I'm a bit of a masochist like that. I'll learn to look less deeply into meanings.
I apologize for wondering what he would have looked like or what his name would have been. I would have prayed to God that he didn't get my eyes or (especially) my nose.