It's been storming out a lot.
Moods have matched the changes accordingly.
Why can't I always be like this?
Cleaned, ready to call Wallyworld tomorrow.
I went to a job fair thing, "got" the job, and I've been waiting on the background check and subsequent email or call for over a week now.
I'm losing faith steadily, and soon my phone will be shut off with no hope to pay for it.
This is 20?
All those spirals about her exes and their various traits, all of it's been made aware that it's a reflection of my own insecurities.
This feeling of running in place is commonplace in my writing, journals and songs, and I have no idea how, truly, to break cycles.
I spend so much time spotting them that I forget to close the loop, so to speak.
I mean hell, my journals lately are completely scatterbrained anyway.
It's incredibly hard to focus my energies on anything without feeling drained and anxious.
A lot of my friends drive and have jobs now.
Some one or the other, very few have neither, and are doing quite as much nothing as me.
I have a great relationship and a decent respect for myself in terms of staying sober 99% of the time, but beyond that and actually sleeping for once (Perhaps too much), unless she's suddenly pregnant I'm actually not doing too poorly in any area, either.
I'm just waiting for some chance to work and keeping myself sane in the process, it's harder and more stressful having no schedule than I could ever imagine.
The thoughts, bad, of work are replaced with a corrupting element to my everyday life.
All ruminations and lamentations, it's similar to being strangled in an extremely comfortable lifestyle.
A stasis, a stagnation and rot.
Today, I cried for the first time in a minute.
This frustration with having no control over my thoughts, plans, emotions, anxieties, fears, actions - and thereby - health, tendencies, reactions and habits is completely taking over my ability to function.
While I've closely "documented" several reappearing traits, personas and mental states, the best I've been able to do is link certain influences to certain characters and carefully monitor what I'm doing at all times to keep me from straying into chaotic territory.
Problem with that is that I automatically wonder what would ruin my mood and then it simply collapses, awareness itself breaks my own character. It's very meta, acting in hopes I'll buy into what I'm doing, thinking and feeling.
I feel disconnected to the very flesh hovering crudely to my limbs, distanced from my brain and its doings.
The world appears to be a black comedy that's lost its lustre, and people have become more fake and plastic than ever.
I can't stop seeing through every simple statement and going on a barrage of curious wanderings that often lead to answers that ruin the subject, everything from my love's day to a friend's successes.
I can't find enjoyment in much socialization anymore, it's so draining having to constantly put on a show on the outside while my inner turmoils are bubbling and brewing faster than I can calculate and plan ahead for.
Simply hearing the wrong word or name can spiral me off onto a nightmare of panic.
I reason that learning to dissociate to deal with stress rather than tank it like I used to has left me with very few active options for coping, in a world of workaholics, addicts and the self-harming.
This is pure existence, aware of every void and memento mori along the way.
This shit sucks.
Her family's getting even closer to me, I got to take her sister to my birthday party.
It was the first time I got most of friends together, and it was comfortable to disorienting all at once.
Too many minds and voices going on, too many moving parts.
Long story short, my hostilities are too narrow and focused to meet the reality of my frustrations.
It isn't them, nor is it me. It's humanity at its core that I'm disgusted by, plain and simple.
Every bit of self-loathing is a critique of my inability to change and anger at this society of worker bees.
Her graduation was hard-fought, and I couldn't be more proud.
Now's the time for us to "adult" and grind our asses off to leave.
Hence the pressure to get a job ASAP and work towards driving and the car.
I hope she stays with me long enough to get to this point.
I hope she stays with me in general. I'm pathetic, I know, not even being able to stand certain subjects anymore.
Entire swathes of conversation, being near me is treading extremely thin ice, and my sensitivities are to blame.
The only alternatives rely on sociopathy and complete disregard for anything of meaning.
It's not a fair choice, though I often opt for feeling nothing or anger than sadness/anxiety.
I don't even feel like mentioning any trades with people, anymore.
Nothing feels important.
Leaving paranoia and worries out, nothing important has transpired.
In a nobility-obsessed span of 2 days I rekinkled most of my relationships with my friends, then deconstructed their purposes to me, like it was a game, and found little to gain from any beyond the comfort of a few carefully curated friendships.
They're like trophies, it's idiotic.
On a more worrying note, I've noticed that my empathies and sympathies are dwindling.
Everything reflects to me hating aspects of myself.
Everything seems like it's about me, and I find myself apologizing for everything while elevating everyone around me to Godly positions.
I'm not entirely sure why I do this, I suppose my self-esteem is drastically lower than I expected it to be considering my personality.
I feel fake.
Since I never have a consistent...anything, really, the whole "shapeshifter' metaphors' really bugging me.
I can't tell which hobbies are forced for the sake of appearances or actually fun for me, anymore, I just know that NOT going through motions melts me alive.
I once more brought up my rapidly deteriorating mental state to my mother, who simply suggested I'm being hard on myself and am doing fine. She reassured me that I have all the time in the world to move out of my grandmother's, and that she's proud of me for going through school, graduating, all that and the third.
My father tries to talk and call, but all he does is congratulate me.
He doesn't have the same sway and realism of my mother, but neither of them seem much more than being capable of apologizing. My mom wants to drive me to and from work, but even that comes across as her getting rid of her guilt.
Am I that much of a parasite, a burden, on this family?
I hide in the attic due to fears like this, and having her stay the night despite being directly told not to.
I've drank a while ago, here, and I'm sure my friends' various habits aren't welcome.
I feel an insatiable urge to escape this city before I do anything of merit.
2 old musical friends banded together and made a mixtape.
I've been trying to for 6 years, and yet in all my thousands of songs, I haven't released a thing.
My Game, the prequel to an actual story, goes unwritten and mid-progress.
Books unread, movies unwatched, exercises and infinite songs not learned on my instruments.
Hell, the keyboard doesn't even work anymore, and I think I forgot how to sing.
Meditation barely works for me, like it used to, Yoga hasn't been so much as thought of in half a year.
Half a year.
It's been so long.
Besides falling in love with Mia, I've fallen out of myself in every possible way.
I've completely fragmented an stagnated.
If it wasn't for her, where would I even be right now?
A worse place, surely.
I love her so much more than I give her.
She's worth more than anything I could do for her, I'm just so godamn afraid of scaring her off with my...
Mess of an existence.
Mess of a mind, a mental state, my jarring beliefs of straight abstract, my infinite insecurities that grow and expand off the old ones, constantly rearranging anxieties I never know I have in my head.
Waiting to manifest...it feels so, empty, without her.
I've been fixated on that more than I should.
While crazy ex stories that I know I shouldn't still be thinking about rerun in my head, always hers for some reason, I beat myself into abysmal states of staggeringly low self esteem.
She could tell me she dated a homeless man and I'm sure I'd be all "Wow, he must have been so humble. I'll never be as nice as that..."
It's ridiculous and all-consuming, and just when I get over something she brings up another detail that I latch onto, mentally.
I told her time and time again to tell me everything at once so this doesn't happen.
I'm not blaming her, but I just wish she completely got what I meant by "everything."
She's going to be hiding things now, too, because now she knows that things stick in my head for longer than I want.
But the wondering reminds me of what I already know, so I'm stuck ruminating on things that don't concern me for hours on end every day anyway.
And if I ever get off her as a subject, it doesn't help.
It doesn't end, it kills my motivations, productivity, esteem, self-concept, these infinite goddamn buzzing thoughts that seem to serve the sole purpose of making me dwell on bad things.
They don't push me to suicidal tendencies anymore, so I'll say I'm improving in some absurd way, but the absurd still trips me out and I feel empty in all areas but love and family, as of now.
And even the latter, sometimes.
A lot of the time.
I feel like so little others on my wavelength, here.
Not in a good way; people who think like me are generally handling these kind of thoughts drastically worse, and they distract themselves. I let it hit me in hopes of building resilience, without any form of drug.
Is love a drug, are video games the worst escapism?
Is writing a way to vent or focus, it's all blurring in my head and becoming one mass shade of me being simply whatever song I have stuck in my head.
I'm whatever I think of, say, or get stuck.
Which keeps me replaying the same songs over and over again, to make sure I stay focused on the same subjects.
I finally cleaned my phone notes, and she bought me a goddamn Klimt journal!
I got to take her to an art gallery with my aunt and grannie for my birthday, then I spent the actual day with her and recently got to swim with her.
I'm taking back beaches and the woods, vehicles, I'm taking off the associations that hurt me and reclaiming them as things to calm me.
Perhaps cutting off the association is more important than the idea and subject itself?
That way only the bad stimuli affects me, making sure things cause no chain reactions?
Typically, study does that.
Or does it reinforce association?
I don't remember, I'm not even sure I ever knew.
I need to focus more on studying these from an academic standpoint, not just trial-and-erroring my way though life.
If nothing else, the placebo bonus is useful.
It's why faith and rituals can help me, so long as I remember them.
I'm tired, but also up for a film.
I need to clear space, got 20 some things queued still.
The insides of my ears itching is driving me absolutely insane, and I've become obsessed with how expansive Dragon Age:Inquisition is. We're both playing it.
I got jealous she romanced a guy, a blonde military type. Reminded me of one of her exes, while she made an elf and was playing like her and I made a female dwarf to roleplay and made her a lesbian.
Even the simplest things are thought against me, it seems, but when they get that ridiculous, I guess I'll just have to understand they're no harm.
My head is...not under repair.
I thought I was fine.
Although I am.
Simply put, so long as I find a way to be who I am at this exact second, regardless of how much -whatever- I've had or thought that day, I'd be entirely fine with my life.
This shifting is turning me into a tempest.
Listening to: Sadistik
Reading: The Divine Comedy
Playing: Dragon Age: Inquisition