Joined
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595 Posts
honestly, as if if i keep writing here i'll conjure her in my dms. speak, memory. not to me, to her. of all the cities we saw, the minds we grasped. the suffering deep in my heart at sea. you called yourself my wife, waiting for me. memory take that day away from me at least. i was too fragile then to hear that. it conjures things.
(which reminds me) ojala. oh my god. that one dude on tinder saying he wanted to learn silvio rodriguez. the male race IS a monolith actually.
she flirted. she definitely flirted. what an ugly word. but flirting in the spirit of the word is like lying. you have to have a baseline of their communication styles. she did not flirt.
i refuse to call myself, to affirm the spontaneous suggestion in my mind that i'm, disgusting for still being in this stupid place.
i sat back on my bed, pillows propped on the no doubt lead- or mercury-covered radiator and sighed, if i never get a girlfriend at least, thank the gods, i don't have a boyfriend, and never have to have one again.
and does it matter, the question, was there something in her anticipating the effect these images would produce in me? i do it too. we all need, we all crave beyond self-control, validation. we need a whole ugly chocolate box of different disgusting chocolates of validation. the gooey bitter cherry, the slimy caramel, the anise (nuff said).
i don't want to speak to memory. some other goddess i suspect sappho had on "recents," to cure me. i really do. my commitment flags, obviously, i bring myself melodramatically to tears, she rages back just as i avow. i want to do a whole ritual to cure myself of her. (when you look back on all the things you thought were romantic and see the ragged reality of mental illness, a perhaps cliched cinematic technique that to my mind never gets old).
i amuse myself fine. desperation sneaks up on me.
now to the other half of my personality.
first as transition. a hot girl weirdly swiped right on tinder, no doubt as a mistake, prank, or social experiment. and i think (but i tend to paranoia) the lockers in one of her pictures match the gym i just joined. i will be looking at the ground at all times.
jan 9 i wanna be starting something. the paper, bam, the weight loss, bam, the getting fit and maintaining an adequate income to finance my plans, bam. patience, discipline, faith, and love for the present moment. i don't know if i mentioned this before, but i've been feeling lately that i've chemically lifted out of depression, at least the level i was at before. i have ideation all the time, and the gnawing sense that there's nothing for me to live for, don't deserve, etc. etc., sadness, mood swings, sure. but. like my mind feels a little more awake, my psychosoma a little less averse to every little stimulus. even pleased sometimes, like a high that is separate from the frankly disappointing one marijuana any longer provides. stop rambling. which reminds me. for the sake of all the "bam" im planning, i'd like to leave of marijuana entirely, but i do think it plays a part in the baseline chemical shit. i'm hoping that exercise and a rigorous commitment to adequate sleep might be enough not to need it. but i've decided never to commit to not doing it, especially during the premenstrual fuckery days. 6 hours of paper per day, 2000 Calories of energy expenditure, 1000 or fewer Calories of intake, protein shakes plus maybe soup, starting higher calorie (up to 1500?) to transition. first weigh-in january 23. i still have two days to come up with a fuller plan. i really need an a-z. for all the contingencies, the weather, my mood, anxiety, my body, my energy levels. also getting rid of some non-regulation food, even tho none of my rules are unbreakable because my health and happiness come first always. i will never force myself to do anything again, more or less.
(which reminds me) ojala. oh my god. that one dude on tinder saying he wanted to learn silvio rodriguez. the male race IS a monolith actually.
she flirted. she definitely flirted. what an ugly word. but flirting in the spirit of the word is like lying. you have to have a baseline of their communication styles. she did not flirt.
i refuse to call myself, to affirm the spontaneous suggestion in my mind that i'm, disgusting for still being in this stupid place.
i sat back on my bed, pillows propped on the no doubt lead- or mercury-covered radiator and sighed, if i never get a girlfriend at least, thank the gods, i don't have a boyfriend, and never have to have one again.
and does it matter, the question, was there something in her anticipating the effect these images would produce in me? i do it too. we all need, we all crave beyond self-control, validation. we need a whole ugly chocolate box of different disgusting chocolates of validation. the gooey bitter cherry, the slimy caramel, the anise (nuff said).
i don't want to speak to memory. some other goddess i suspect sappho had on "recents," to cure me. i really do. my commitment flags, obviously, i bring myself melodramatically to tears, she rages back just as i avow. i want to do a whole ritual to cure myself of her. (when you look back on all the things you thought were romantic and see the ragged reality of mental illness, a perhaps cliched cinematic technique that to my mind never gets old).
i amuse myself fine. desperation sneaks up on me.
now to the other half of my personality.
first as transition. a hot girl weirdly swiped right on tinder, no doubt as a mistake, prank, or social experiment. and i think (but i tend to paranoia) the lockers in one of her pictures match the gym i just joined. i will be looking at the ground at all times.
jan 9 i wanna be starting something. the paper, bam, the weight loss, bam, the getting fit and maintaining an adequate income to finance my plans, bam. patience, discipline, faith, and love for the present moment. i don't know if i mentioned this before, but i've been feeling lately that i've chemically lifted out of depression, at least the level i was at before. i have ideation all the time, and the gnawing sense that there's nothing for me to live for, don't deserve, etc. etc., sadness, mood swings, sure. but. like my mind feels a little more awake, my psychosoma a little less averse to every little stimulus. even pleased sometimes, like a high that is separate from the frankly disappointing one marijuana any longer provides. stop rambling. which reminds me. for the sake of all the "bam" im planning, i'd like to leave of marijuana entirely, but i do think it plays a part in the baseline chemical shit. i'm hoping that exercise and a rigorous commitment to adequate sleep might be enough not to need it. but i've decided never to commit to not doing it, especially during the premenstrual fuckery days. 6 hours of paper per day, 2000 Calories of energy expenditure, 1000 or fewer Calories of intake, protein shakes plus maybe soup, starting higher calorie (up to 1500?) to transition. first weigh-in january 23. i still have two days to come up with a fuller plan. i really need an a-z. for all the contingencies, the weather, my mood, anxiety, my body, my energy levels. also getting rid of some non-regulation food, even tho none of my rules are unbreakable because my health and happiness come first always. i will never force myself to do anything again, more or less.