artificialwinter

[artificialwinter]

I love my boyfriend so much. it genuinely upsets me how much love I have for him and for my friends and for everything. I love my life so mjuch

[artificialwinter]

i pretended you were mine, it made me comfortable

[artificialwinter]

i can’t help but be so insanely angry that i can love so deeply and care so much yet i’ve only been rewarded with solitude and nothing but solemn thoughts. i am so gentle and i have tried so hard to be kind and yet im given the life of a cruel person. i hate everything about my personality i hate everything about me i want to die and be reborn so that i will no longer have to suffer the consequences of being mean when i was but a child. i know i have done wrong. i know i would get defensive. but now everything in me is crushed and i can’t even bring myself to care about the things i love. i can only wish for change meanwhile i sit here and do nothing to bring it about.

[artificialwinter]

everything hurts and I feel weak with no will to do anything but lay here and read pixels on a screen

[artificialwinter]

I think the part that hurts most about me right now is the fact that im trying so desperately to help myself. but simultaneously ruining everything about myself

[artificialwinter]

i hate my body i hate my hair i hate my face i hate my makeup i hate my clothes i hate my personality i hate my skin i hate everything about me

[artificialwinter]

I should’ve left it at a disappearance, I could’ve simply been a person from their life who they could try to trick themselves they were better off without. But no one cared as much I did, and no one will. Because my care and my love is cannot be replicated. There is no me shaped hole that can be filled.

… Am I lying to myself when I say things like that? Is overconfidence me trying to cope with the fact I lost my friends? It was seven years of friendship, I don’t think it’s wrong of me to think of this as much as I currently am. I haven’t cried over the loss of friendship, but that’s also because I’ve already cried from how badly I didn’t want to be their friend anymore. I want to let go fully, but I think processing and continuing to write about how badly and worthless they made me feel can help both brains in my body understand that I truly am better off without them. I do not care about what they think of me anymore, because as a person, I will always exist. Because I am a person, people can perceive me. People can think of me positively, they can think of me negatively, they can think of me in any shape, way, or form and there is simply nothing I can do about that.

My body feels like paper being crushed into a ball at the thought of being a person and being thought of or about. I feel my mouth fill up with spit and my foot lock into the air at an angle. I feel like a body again. I continue to read over what I’ve written because maybe if I read it enough times I can become comfortable with everything I know. I wish for self awareness to calm me.

[artificialwinter]

I've been thinking about my sexuality a lot. I think I'm afraid to admit that I might like girls. I don't think I deserve to be loved.

[artificialwinter]

I'm starting this blog in hopes that I continue to write about my sentiments, instead of bottling it up or forcing it down other’s throats. I'm beginning to realize that no one really likes to listen to me, so I might as well write it so my brain can feel less pressure.

I’m not sure if it's my voice that’s irritating to listen to - or if it's my inability to articulate my emotions into cohesive words. Maybe it’s just my personality, maybe my individuality complex is so strong I can’t fathom another person truly understanding what I feel. But I think people are getting sick of me.

I keep thinking back to the way their eyes flicker to their left whenever I start to gaze into nothingness, knowing what is to come. My mind is constantly running, my speech a desperate outlet, but even if it helps me, it’s a pain to everyone else. I’m not sure why I can’t form healthy coping mechanisms, why I must backload everything onto another person. I don’t think I struggle as much as other people, frankly, I’m really fucking spoiled and I really hate myself for accepting the gifts and my inability to hide how much I really like spending money. Everything I do or like causes me to leech off of others- requires me to- and I wish that I was a simple, humble, girl who loved experiences. But I can’t. I fucking hate experiences. I hate listening to other people talk. I want to talk and talk but I don’t want to listen. I don’t want to be with others, but I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to eat, but eating is the only way I can both concern others and ease their worries. I don’t know when I turned to food, why I did, and why I truly can’t turn to other things.

I keep trying to play Animal Crossing, return to drawing, go back to old TV shows; I hate it all. I keep trying to be the “old me” that was more likable. I think she was annoying, too aggressive, too ignorant, but people liked her more. Her voice was more a nuisance to listen to, but some how it’s better than my voice now. I continue to apologize to others when I’m not actually sorry, but I feel bad. I feel bad for being a bother to others even if I know they were more harmful, I feel bad for talking about how disconnected I feel from ‘Janet’ even if I know it helps, I feel fucking terrible for everything and I don’t know why. I keep apologizing thinking I can make things better, but it’s all a front, I just keep faking everything. A part of me thinks it has always been this way, but I don’t know why I only noticed it now. Was it destiny? Was it fate?

If me finding out now was in the plans of a higher being, I wonder if they cared for me. Did they think about me being on summer break? Did they think about me having to soon not be attached at the hip to the only people I think I can truly care about because of college? Is this a lesson? Is it possible for me, whoever I am, to care for others?

I think I did care for others at one point in my life, but now I continue to ponder if people cared about me. Outside of the higher being that protects me, that envelops me in its arms, whose warmth I feel on my back as I type, I don’t know if someone can. I don’t know I’m worth caring for. Did people notice when I would respond to them like I was listening when I wasn’t? Did they notice that whenever I attempted to comfort them, I went back to my other tasks like I didn’t care? But that wasn’t always me. I could lie and pretend I’m some sociopath, but as I gave advice, my chest would burn and tears would poke my bottom eyelashes. I don’t think I’m a bad person, is that narcissistic? Is it wrong of me to think that I deserve more? Do they think that I deserve more? #### and ######### didn’t, I think. When I would text, I’d get ignored or they’d respond with little energy. When I told them how I felt, they did it again. Did I bring that upon myself? Did #### only text with a worried tone because she too, is afraid of being alone?

I think I welcome the loneliness I feel right now, because I am listening to myself. I am aware that my mind and body need an outlet, and I constantly seek outlets. If no one cares about me, I can care about me. I want to continue writing but I limit myself to futile attempts at being poetic. Even when I try to allow myself to be vulnerable, I continue to think about how something could benefit me. Is that selfish?

[artificialwinter]

May 26th, 2024 is the day that I officially knew that the person I once was was completely gone. It's the day I knew my mental illness had gotten worse, the day I knew I wouldn't be ok- not for a long while. I miss myself, I miss being motivated to be healthy, happy. I miss everything.