Feeling: Decently shit
Warning: This one is really pessimistic and depressed.
Testing? Is this thing on? Evidently, yes, yes it is.
First blog post on this website. I'd say no pressure, but I always feel pressure doing things for the first time.
This isn't the first time I've made a first post on a blog, so that might help relieve the anxiety. I've been on Tumblr since 2019, some time in middle school. I find the slower social media really is much better for me. There's less pressure to turn myself into some sort of.. idol? Product? Some thing. Object, I think is the word.
I think I'm very different than the person who started this website. I think the website started out as an extension of that need to objectify myself, to turn my existence into something digestible. (I don't regret the fact I made the website in the first place. This is quite honestly the best outlet I had by far out of this weird need.) But I'd be lying if I said I'm better than that person- that the desire still isn't there, still isn't enveloping my whole life like a fire.
The difference, really, is that I'm tired. So, so tired. I can't keep any of it together enough to keep burning so brightly the way I could. And that fact feels so, so so dissappointing.
I want to remind myself there's still something to me outside of this. I need proof, tangible proof that I didn't waste myself. Or something. I don't know. I've given up a lot of myself to turn me into something likeable. Digestible. Something desirable.
I'm in therapy right now. I tell myself I will learn to rely on other people. Be open with other people. But I have hurt myself so much I can't trust I won't hurt other people. I think I missed my chance. I think I'm not enough to be worth it. I think there's not much to want to try for.
During class, one of my friends asked me why I use my last name. He's known me since 6th grade, and he's seen me go through 2 names already. I told him that it was really that it was just convenience- out of laziness. It was easier that way, when everything was online and I couldn't muster the courage to talk to anybody. He told me that I should choose a first name now.
I haven't told anybody I have a name. A real one. One I want people to say. I tried, barely, a year ago, but it didn't catch on at all. It reminds me that at some point, I wanted to be myself, and I had enough energy to put in the effort. I can't feel any attachment to the one I have people use. It's distant. Polite. It gives me a way to deny people vulnerability. Nobody can get close to me the way they say it. I hear that name and I hope that in a year's time people won't remember it. Or me.
I told him it'd be too awkward to ask people to use another name. Too much of a hassle. He said that nobody would mind.
I don't think that people would mind. But I think I've missed that chance.
Feeling: Despair
Warning: Much of the depressive same
Spent the whole weekend in a sort of depressive paralysis. Did nothing productive. Honestly it was more destructive than anything.
I had another talk with my English teacher. I think I talk to him like how I wish I'd talk to my therapist.
I think I'm cruel in that I'm not vulnerable with the people who ask for me to be. The people who I should trust. I think it's selfish of me that the people I trust the most don't care. I think I always ask too much and ask too little.
My English teacher told me that the goal of life is to be happy with yourself. It's a goal with no end but it takes priority above everything. Something like that. He says things like this a lot, on account of me being unhappy. I'm tired. I keep trying this. But I'm tired and less and less things work.
What do you do to make yourself happy? I can't really say much. I play a game. It's fun, and then I feel empty. I draw, and then something is lost in translation and I feel like I lost a part of me instead. Everything feels like a distraction.
I want to be better. I need to be better. Really it's just that I don't want to get better.