I keep dreaming that my crush is in love with me. The dreams aren't anything graphic, he never even kisses me in any of them. He just does small things like he'll hold my hand out of nowhere, or he'll give me this precious look that screams "I care about you", or he'll hug me for a long time. I love these dreams because it just feels so damn nice to be loved. I love the tender, sweet emotions that I feel in the dreams. I love feeling happy. I hope I feel that way in the waking world someday.
So there was this one day back in middle school during the time that the sexual abuse with my mom’s friend was still going on. I was panicking really bad because I knew I was going to see her that afternoon when I came home from school and it was driving me crazy, so I went to the bathroom and tried to calm down. I was in front of a sink trying to stop hyperventilating, and I was wearing this jacket that had a button on the sleeve, and I could hear the button vibrating against the edge of the sink due to how much my hands were shaking. And then this guy walked in and he asked me if I was okay, and when I opened my eyes and saw who it was, I ignored him because he was a jerk. He was the guy who shoved me into a wall that time when we were outside, and again when we were in the computer room. He also laughed when his friends were jerks to me. So I was trying to stop shaking and breathe normally because I knew he was watching me, but then I started involuntarily coughing between gasps because of how hard I was hyperventilating and he said “I’m going to get someone” or something along those lines, I wasn’t really paying attention. But when I stopped coughing, I opened my eyes and he was gone. Then a minute later a teacher came in and took me to the nurse. They kept me there for like half an hour and then they sent me back to class. And when I saw that guy again at the end of the day, and he kind of stuttered a joke about how I better not start having another coughing fit because he didn’t feel like going inside and getting the nurse. But I saw genuine concern in his face. And I just really appreciated that, you know? I mean, he didn’t have to help me. He could’ve shoved me into the wall again, or made fun of me for being so pathetic, or he could’ve ignored me. That’s what I was expecting, but instead he went and got me help. And we… kind of became friends after that, I think. He stopped being mean to me. I have him in a few of my classes this year, too, and we’re still on good terms. We never talk about that day, but I’m sure he remembers it. And I don’t know, I just hope he knows I’m thankful.
I just sat around for 4 hours smoking countless cigarettes, for my girlfriend didn't answer her phone and then went full "Not now, I'm busy" without any explanation...turns out she was building IKEA furniture and renovationg her room and had no time to write. I've never felt that glad to be dumbfounded by my own sorrow.
Some internet friends decided they wanted to mail around a traveling journal of sorts for all of us to write in, and I agreed to participate. The person before me took several months to get to me because they ran into some troubles and couldn't afford to ship it- but it was no big deal, I didn't mind. Then I finally got it, and I too fell on hard times. My grandpa was sick for weeks and then eventually passed. Then three other family members passed away in the following weeks. Work started getting busy for the Christmas season, and it only got worse the closer it got to Christmas. I and everyone else got some kind of flu-like virus. I had to spend every last cent on Christmas gifts because my dad conveniently decided to not pay the phone bill, and my mom had to cover it, leaving nothing extra for Christmas. Just thing after thing kept happening where I didn't have the time or money to send the journal. And on top of that I initially had anxiety over what to even write in it. I've had it for a couple months, about as long as the person before me, but one of my friends keeps hounding me about it and making me feel so immensely guilty for still having it. I can't apologize any more, I couldn't control the things that happened. But I feel so awful. I feel like I ruin everything, and I shouldn't have even tried to write in it. I should have just passed it on without writing in it, or even just never agreed to participate at all. I'm never doing something like this again. The universe always finds ways to make me struggle with deadlines. And I'm tired of trying to fight it and just disappointing the people I care about.
I feel guilty when people give me gifts, especially expensive ones. I feel even worse if the gift is spontaneous/without reason, though I still feel this way on my birthday and on Christmas. Christmas isn't as bad because I can at least give something back- but if they give me something expensive I feel bad for not being able to do the same for them. I just feel undeserving of gifts.
Sometimes, my life is grotesque. I went from chronically depressed, pseudointellectual "incel" on the brink of suicide due to an completely destroyed self-image to actually being in a relationship with the woman of my dreams in about half a year. Not only is she basically a smarter, female version of me with a working self-image, but she also physically embodies every trait I find attractive. Had people told me that this is what will happen to me in 2018, I had probably called them fools for doing so. I still can hardly believe that there actually is a woman out there that shares not only my virtues, but who also genuinly loves me for who I am...even on a bodily level...to be fair, I also try to be the best boyfriend I can possibly be according to the rules of 19th-century prose. I mean, everything about her is great: She's smart, believes in love and loyalty, is a great artist, is "statue of the roman antiquacy" - level goodlooking, is really efficient in daily life and thus a really "down-to-earth"-person, shares my taste in music and, as obscure of a fact that may be, even loves Half-Life.
My life feels like a long, drawn out dramadey indie film. I live alone. I work a job 5 days a week, that is repetitive, and some of the co-workers are fake. I'm in a new relationship, that we live far away but make time to see each other. I visit my parents, every other weekend. I wake up, in the middle of the night and have random thoughts, on how to improve my life, but coming up empty. (Movie Title: Coming Up Empty)
tonight i start my no touching myself ever idk how long i can last and im not joking about this i have a problem and i need to fix it so tomorrow will be day 1 of this
I went to this province area in the philippines with my friend. And she wore theseripped jeans. I mean she loves ripped jeans a lot and thats basically what she wore ever since we were in high school. But while passing by their kinda downtown theres this really nice old woman giving my friend some money to buy her some new nice clothing. Im assuming the old woman thought we're homeless "taong grasa" in filipino. I was cracking up because the jeans was expensive and bought from this store... true religion and their clothing is "expensive!" But the old woman just sees it as ugly. We tried to explain it to her, she just dont get why wear destroyed clothing. For me i never understood in the first place why buy a jeans from an expensive store where you can just buy cheap ones and destroy it lol...
i don't understand people's world. always feel like an outcast. anyone feels the same? hop in to my car.