marisdisry

[marisdisry]

Entry XVIII: 05.06.2025

My boyfriend told me he wouldn't blame me if I fucked up and we had to break up because I told him about this nightmare-turned-wet-dream. He hasn't forgiven me at all. He keeps tallies of stuff I fuck up. And it's making me sad, it's sort of breaking my heart because what happens when I tell him the full scope of my SA?

If it was such a deal breaker I wish he would've just said so instead of getting here and insist on making me feel bad. I thought I was forgiven. I thought he understood. But thoughts are not reality same as dreams. I understand why it upset him so intensely, but these days it's as if he does something wrong, argues, then it's one of his mock trials instead of his girlfriend.

I feel so dirty sometimes. And when he brings it up, I feel this wave of dread and regret in even telling him. The only reason I even told him was because I wasn't thinking we'd end up dating, he had already rejected me and I was unsure if he was just having fun or actually interested in me. But again, he's right, it's not something you just tell someone. I so badly want to talk, try to make him understand so he doesn't keep bringing it up, but he doesn't seem to care.

Which, I find funny. He's almost like my aunts, not letting me explain myself and keep tallies of my mistakes to bring up later.

When did my sweet boy get so cruel?

I cradle the capybara plush he got me last month and try to ground myself. But I keep crying. I thought this wouldn't happen, sincerely and hopefully, didn't expect I'd keep hurting like this. And I understand it's his first time living too. I understand we're both hurt people. I also just want to feel safe.

How am I to do that when every wrong is put into his mental list of shit I fuck up and is brought out every time I condemn him for his?

I can't relax at all. Not with my family. Not with my boyfriend.

I'm really just sad.

This won't last because I know he's a good man and would eventually make me laugh again. But I don't feel good right now. Capyburger is at least good company.

I just want to die.

[marisdisry]

Entry XVII: 04.03.2025

Would I be happier had I just stuck to my plan on killing myself when I aged, "enough"?

For one, I wouldn't be here. My family yelling at me for making a face, being lazy, being a useless thorn on their backs. I, too, did not wish for this. I wouldn't have chosen to be here had I known this is what was to come for me.

Exams are over. Vacation is right by my fingertips.

I lay here and wonder if the evening would be more bearable if I chugged down the last of my gin. I'd sleep a solid 12 hours, but I'd miss my boyfriend's waking time.

Whenever I'm drunk, I get so dizzy and... lonely. But it's muted. I can bear with the loneliness when I'm four shots in, cold, fruity juice as chaser and I'm left to my vulnerability. I feel sad and nothing at the same time. I understand why alcoholics find it hard to stay sober when they can stay in that nice, stable plateau of feelings, nothing but the threat of throwing up or the morning hangover. It's nice. I want to feel that way all the time, to be honest. It's better than cutting.

What am I even here for? Not in the, "what's my purpose" type of way, but, "what am I going to do with my life".

I tell myself and people that I actually have something in me, but I wonder if it's even true. If that's just me convincing myself with empty promises of ambition and a future. Soon enough, I'll be out of this house and I'll have to decide things entirely on my own. I love the idea because I'll be free. But what am I even to do with freedom?

I can take the diploma, do well in my studies, work and earn the money I love, and worship. But what for?

For a nice house? Stability? Tons and tons of alcohol?

When I wrote about a life I'd have in 10 years, it was a vague, depressing mush of disordered habits and maybe devotion to one person. I like being inlove. We'll live in a place he'll decorate and I'll pick. I'll keep it clean, try to find a hobby beyond alcoholism so I can at least have a chance on outliving him. I'll greet him in the evening, spread my legs, then my arms to hear his complaints and give him my affectionate words. I can live like that. It's the one thing I find myself working to find.

But right now.

Nobody here likes me.

And it makes me sad.

I can admit I don't put in effort to like and be liked by my family and friends. I really couldn't care any less. But I also care enough to dislike being shunned, left out, ignored.

Maybe college will be better. The friends I'll make, the future I'll pave for myself when I don't even know it yet. But right now.

I look at the people I see outside when I walk home from school, and I envy how easy their life seem to be. The people my age, tight-knit, arm-in-arm while they laugh. The little kids coddled by their parents. Would I had been loved like that if my mother stayed? Throughout the years, I find myself blaming and missing her for everything I feel now. Maybe if she were here, I'd have someone by my side, she'd understand. Maybe I wouldn't be so sad. I wouldn't have grown to hate myself and everyone around me. How could she leave me like this? It's cruel. And yet I never found it in me to replace her, she's the only mother I'll have.

I fear that I'll be this way forever.

I was 14 when I promised I'd be skinnier and I'm still the same weight, 16 when I swore I'd stop cutting myself, and 17 when I cried on my birthday and hoped for a happier year.

Why does it seem as if, despite everything that's changed, everyone I've grown to know and love, I end up here? Sad, alone, and unwanted by the same people.

The relationship I've established recently with my man, I hope I can at least keep it.

I grow weary being such a burden, emotionally.

This will all pass, eventually. I'll be happier some other time. But right now, as I write this, I'm laying on the hammock and crying about how sad the day has been.

At least I bought myself my favorite chips. That's something. (:

[marisdisry]

ENTRY XVI: 03.08.2025

Guess who finally started dating a good man! Well, it started last month, my birthday. But I fucked up several times now, and we've barely even dated for a month. I haven't fumbled this bad... ever. It was always the guy doing me wrong so this is an entirely new territory. Maybe not too new. I remember when I dated my first boyfriend, I jokingly told him about how my aunt saw my prom dance partner and teased me, "you two look good together". He was livid. Started accusing me of liking the other guy, and I couldn't stop laughing. I genuinely was kidding him. But I mean, my exact words were, "btw, you got competition. aunty likes (insert dance partner name)."

All that's to say I never was a good girlfriend to start, but I always tried to be a good partner to whoever I loved.

I just couldn't seem to get it together these past weeks. First it was my period, then it was just uncontrollable rage. What the fuck is going on with me? I've been unstable for as long as I know but I've always been what I thought was a girlfriend from heaven. Literally God's gift to Earth. But now? I keep getting angry, retroactively jealous, and downright mean.

They say it's because this is my first happy relationship, my boyfriend is a good man, and he does well being patient with my several mistakes. And they might be right. It's foreign being this secure. I guess back with the pedophile, first boyfriend, and mushroom addict white-male it was easier to be the lesser evil because they were bad people from the start. It was easy to act good when you're paired with one of Satan's spawns.

Firsts are always tricky.

I don't like being this way. I hate being a bad person when I'm supposed to be his peace just as he is mine. And I keep saying I'll be better until days pass by and I fuck up once more. A man can only take so much until he practically starts expecting me to fail and I can't have that. I can't keep failing him.

Sometimes I think he'd be better off with a woman that isn't me. Someone closer, smarter, and without the flaws I'm sure he sees in me, too. Someone he wouldn't be shamed for. I want to be those things, I swear, I want to so badly be the perfect girl because he tells me he loves me and he sees a future with me. And I will be, just that I have these thoughts, and they make me feel bad.

He deserves better from me and that's what I plan to give. My boyfriend is really just a good man, honest, and well-meaning. Once we get past the first monthsary, there will be no mistakes. At least, not as many as I've made, not as big, too. I only get better from here, that's what I always do. Any evidence of this would be my first and second year report cards — it is only up from here.

All that aside.

I haven't been as sad lately. That's why I haven't been posting much. I never write often to begin with, but I just haven't had anything to whine about so I didn't bother.

There's work immersion. I loved it. Minus the Barangay secretary who would always pinch my cheek and talked about liking 18 year olds. Eurgh. But, I did get to encode tons, estimate 500 names and spent the most time using the stupid xerox machine. Why? I was their most capable worker. I love working, you see. Keeps me busy, makes me feel useful, I don't have to bother with my cloudy feelings when I work and my focus is poured into a task.

Also found out I've got a good typing speed. 50 words per minute.

And then there's the college admissions season. I've applied for the Polytechnic University of the Philippines, and found out late that the stupid courses are so LIMITED!!!!! LORD RELEASE ME LORD!!! FUCK.

I have other choices, albeit expensive. I hate this! They don't even have PolSci in PUP so I don't know what my classmates signed up for. I'm sure half of them are going to PLMAR, though. I still don't know where else to go. There's Far Eastern University? Expensive, notorious for being a shitshow. Our Lady of Fatima University is another expensive private uni. New Era is cheap, but god I do not want to go there.

I've been stressed way more than usual. Just let me rest. Why can't things work out magically smoothly all the time.

I wish to be at peace.

[marisdisry]

Entry XV: 01.25.2025

Since I started school, I was never the achieving type. My entire elementary years were spent going in, having fun, and not pursuing academic validation. I never had the hots for it, if I'm being honest. But the small, private school I was in was generous enough to let me have a medal and two for one year. Then I transferred to a bigger school, tougher competition and harder challenges. I wore my one-shot success into the entrance exams with pride, apparently they were strict with qualifications, and I managed to get in the first try. No waiting. My name was at the top of the qualifiers list, but it was alphabetical.

Today, the top 10 Elite Students Society qualifiers were posted and again, my name flourishes at the top, and it's still alphabetical. My homeroom teacher gifted me a chocolate cake to be shared with the class, one I didn't expect nor even took more than 3 bites off. What I thought mattered was my family's opinion, the company I am forced to for 24/7. I immediately informed my aunt, and to my dismay, she sent a half-hearted, "congrats. when r u getting home?"

It makes me cry that a person I occasionally despise had the heart to congratulate me properly, and even give me something. But my family who has the means don't even acknowledge my achievement. Why? Because I've been a bad person to them by not being talkative. Well, my fucking bad I don't initiate or encourage conversations, you folks are never easy to speak to. At least my father congratulated me. But I was already sad and fuming. I couldn't even thank him well. And early into the call my other aunt was telling me something about kids getting kidnapped for organ trafficking and I annoyingly snapped at her that I'm on the phone. My uncle sat there, catching up to speed about the academic bullshit, and joked "are you sure? Must be a fluke, she's always going to school so done up anyway. Top 10? What, were there 10 students and you ranked 10th?"

My fucking goodness. This is the first time I've actually done something good. The first time I had a nice little medal I can admit wasn't out of luck or expectancy. But I don't even get a, "oh congrats kid!" Is this karma? Because I never smile at them? I'm just sad.

Everything I do is wrong, crumpled into a joke and thrown down the sewage of verbal belittling. I just want to die.

[marisdisry]

Entry XIV: 01.09.2025

Is a house still a home when living in it feels like stepping in dog shit? Not a good comparison, stark in all honesty, but I have no other room for thinking when I feel this way.

Auntie is angry with me about last night, because me giving up the karaoke to her with a frown just sets her off. But has she ever stopped to maybe wonder about how she makes other people feel? I wouldn't doubt she hasn't. And if she did, it's all on purpose of hurting. She's always yelling, muttering, and nagging about wanting to live alone and basically demanding I leave her house as soon as possible. Which I do plan to do. I don't like staying with her, no matter what labor she does for me, I do for her and is balanced out by her painful remarks about my appearance.

I hate staying here. It feels like I've regressed back to those days I'd cry nightly, but this time, it's no longer out of loneliness. Never have I thought a family could make you feel so isolated and unwanted, despised even. Of course the last part isn't all true, I know they have a tolerance for me. But I also know the relief they'll feel once I leave.

I've gone back to crying regularly because cutting just can't do it anymore and I am trying to recover, trying to heal myself. I just hate it here so much. I hate coming home and being greeted with commands, if not nagging for how late it is or how I do nothing anyway. While I realize how sensitive I'm acting, I'm not sure I can help it. It feels as if I'm a string, wounded tightly and carelessly, one pluck away from breaking in the most ear-wrenching twang.

School is stressful, homelife doesn't cut it either. I have no place to be. I live in a gap that is the hours I spend in my uncle's house by myself, and once the clock ticks to eight, I have to repress the outburst of disappointment for my "happy time" ending. I have no place to claim safely.

Just now, I went to my aunt's house to do my laundry, and her clothes were still hanging. It's been 2 days, if I remember correctly, so I assumed they'd be dry by now. I took them down, and she started yelling at me for not even checking. I'll admit I made a mistake. But she didn't have to be so mean about it, like every word she spits is a curse-laced syllable. Even the way she told me to do my diligence here in the other house felt offensive. I really didn't mean to piss her off, she does this with my clothes, she'd take them off the hanger even when they weren't fully dry but enough to not be moist - just cold.

I'm a little scared of doing any more around her because it feels as if every expression, every movement, and even glance of an eye is criticized. I hate this. It makes me sad. I just want to leave. I want to go, somewhere far far away where her voice wouldn't haunt me and her eyes won't stare with a sneer. My eyes will get swollen again and they'll poke at me for details I'll refuse to give.

But hey, I am a candidate for the Elite students examination, at least that's one good thing I have. If I pass, I get a cute medal with it.

It aches me to try and put my feelings into words I'll deem fitting enough because I haven't done so in a while. A long while, or so it feels like. Time is a concept I forget and dislike.

My bouts of forgetfulness, more specifically, lack of object permanence, is starting to trouble me. What if it's a sign for something? Am I sick? I don't forget things about the guy I like, or events I think are important, but my phone and my keys, more troubling, my wallet, are most of the time lost on me. It takes me an extra five minutes to get ready because I forget where I put them. But it could just be me and my frantic thoughts, all these things that flash in my head a mile a minute. I hope it's just that.

I have to do laundry. I hate this. I want to die.

[marisdisry]

Entry XIII: 12.22.2024

They say that Christmas has a way of uniting families, strengthening the bonds and all. I don't know if anybody actually said that, I'm just assuming, to be honest.

But I would say that any event ever has consistently failed in trying to unite our mostly average family. It always feels as if the closer a supposedly happy event draws, the more we disagree. Maybe it's something like reverse psychology? In hopes of trying to do something, you do the opposite?

Anyway, I got my hair chopped today. The barber kept insisting that i get it even cut, not too short in case my hair "gets moody" as if they have feelings. It's a common belief I wish I was spared from, I genuinely just wanted to get my hair extremely short — a pixie, maybe a little longer with more layers. I think he just wanted to be quick with me since they had several other customers, it being a couple days before the Christmas celebration, everyone wants to look their best. I fucking hate it. My head hurts. I want to cry.

It's horrendous. I look exactly like my aunts and I want it gone. I had half the mind to think about just cutting it by myself, but I know the loathing I'll get inter and intra personally if I did.

Aunt 1 kept ridiculing me and saying I shouldn't shower so I can keep it blow dried straight, even when I wanted it gone. It's literally my hair. I just wanted it to look the way I wanted. But I ended up not wetting it less she starts nagging me about how I never listen and how I'm dumb and a fucking waste of life. She doesn't actually say those things.

I'm so exhausted. My head hurts so much. I just want to go home to the province and blackout drunk with my cousins. At least the discomfort and isolation is temporary. When I'm here, everyone is against me. I live in a home where being alone is more freeing, because every emotion I God forbid show, will be used against me. I can't get angry because how dare I? I'm a bum with no parents and is being raised out of pure pity. I can't be sad because I'm not a homeless orphan with no family. I can't be overly happy or laugh at my phone because I might be talking to a boy and that definitely leads to teenage pregnancy.

Every chore, every demand, every task must be done perfectly. I don't always adhere to that. But in the times I fail, it feels as if I'm the dirt on their shoes. Easily flicked away with no remorse.

I can understand that living with me feels like a curse. That's why I will be doing the best I can to get out of here the second I save up the money. I will live far, so extremely far away, overseas if I can, and maintain low contact. Maybe then I'll be happy.

But that's just a maybe. Right now? I just want to sleep and never wake up. My Christmas wish is to be spared the disappointment of another morning spent with this life of mine. I just want to die. Rest in Peace.

[marisdisry]

Entry X11: 12.12.2024

I battle with the complexities of being young and bisexual. This is proven by my confusing feelings for my best friend, a girl. We've been dear friends for maybe 7 years now, and in the middle, as puberty starts and I discover the wonders of a woman's beauty, my attraction has sorely landed on her.

There was a time she dated another girl, and I cried about it during Valentine's day because- jealousy? I cried about how I thought about her and I would be less friends when she started hanging out with the new student more often, talking about how pretty she is and how she'd love it if the girl wasn't straight. I also cried when we were separated schools and I would no longer see her daily.

Maybe it's something with me, an issue with abandonment or loyalty, but surely not a lack of the latter. I adore her, and she knows. But sometimes I wonder if she thinks I'm too much, the slightest implication of it makes me crumble. I do need her more than she needs me, it's sickeningly clear, but I don't want to overwhelm her.

She expressed her discomfort with clingyness so I kept my distance, even today, as we hung out for the first time after an entire year of not seeing each other, I was terrified of even trying to hold her. Our shoulders touched, she was in my close proximity but I didn't want to make assumptions and just go for it. I sound like a fucking boy making a move on his crush, at least I'm respectful.

I know how I feel. Sometimes I take the joke of my crushing on her a little too far, I think of having her in my arms, stroking her hair, and just laying skin to skin. It's all silly infatuation, like how when you simply like your friends too much? It's that. And she's a lesbian, and it's not as if it's unprompted. I had just held on to the phase of young, developmental infatuation for too long.

For all that it's worth, she is insanely beautiful. I'm sure she knows it, the world makes a point of telling her with teachers' talking her up for their sons, and mothers asking if she's single. Fair skin, never blemished despite her substance abuse and sleep deprivation, pink pouty lips and a tall nose. She's what we call a mestiza. She has a beauty mark under her left eye which I find myself staring at from time to time. I struggle keeping eye contact with her because of how adorable she is.

I'm too lucky to have somebody like her, to call her my best friend and have her tell me what she won't to other people. It's the highest privilege I can acquire in this lifetime.

But I fear that the years have definitely drawn us apart. We still get along well, I could be wrong about that first sentence, it's just that we don't keep as close contact nor do we really have the touchiness I have with friends I value less than her. Is it that I respect her too much? Akin to a work of art, would my sticky hands be of disturbance? I'm not sure.

I long for the day that comes when I can hold her hand again and rest my head on her shoulders. Maybe it's not this year or the next, long as it exists out there, I can live happily in waiting.

Dying won't be satisfactory without it.

[marisdisry]

Entry XI: 10.31.2024

What even is the point of anything I do if I always fail. Dieting, binging, gaining, and losing — all a sadistic fucking pattern I cannot get out of. Is it a lack of willpower? Is it because I'm a fat fucking fatso? Is it because of an eating disorder? Why does nothing ever work out for me?

It always goes downhill, I always fail. I'm a big failure.

And now I'm missing my online groomer. Isn't that crazy? Somebody that everyone would deem a bad person, was the only person to ever stay faithful to me. I don't expect people to empathize or even comprehend my attachment to him, it's not an easy loop, but sometimes I get genuinely annoyed when people take it by face value. Call me a victim, leave it at that. No, I was not a victim by those pitiful definitions, I was his friend. I was a child desperate for somebody's kindness and patience, and he was my most fitting candidate.

He talked to me about everything, he needed me, and he made me feel like I was actually worth a life. How is that so hard to understand? How is it so hard to admit that maybe, just maybe, the relationship was something more than a college student and his underage online girlfriend? I wasn't even dating him, we were barely even there.

Nobody has ever done that for me, nobody but him. But everyone acts like he's the scum of the earth simply because I was a minor. I knew it then and I still know now that he was wrong for it, but I stayed. Why can't anybody just acknowledge that maybe the reason why I'm so attached to him is because he was a good person to me? I don't care that we had our downsides, how he did make me cry several times, what matters the most is that at least he helped me up. He's the foot that trips me and the hand that's lent out after. I know this. I knew this.

I miss him. I shouldn't have been so angry with him. I miss him so much.

It's so lonely. It's making me want to kill myself.

[marisdisry]

Entry X: 10.01.2024

I'm slowly realizing how painfully unsatisfying it is to be mediocre. Like everything good needs to be balanced by a terrible cause simply for the reason I don't deserve pure happiness. Good grades, terrible body. Good grades, terrible fucking face. I only have so much to make up for and I fear that listing them would make it feel worse.

Why is my life this way? It's exhausting. I was informed I aced 3 subjects out of 9, but the 1 subject i actually loved was taken from me by a bitch that could barely write a good paper. Creative writing is all I have, the one thing I could confidently handle and say "I got this". So why am I being outdone by somebody that is not even my level? Am I being bitter? Egotistical? A fucking moron? If it was that easy for a nobody, was I even special? Was I ever skilled?

Obviously, I have no respect for this girl. I don't even consider her grade to be a mirror of effort but of fucking luck. I cannot accept the fact I was outdone in the one field I liked.

And say, okay, at least the general average is still higher than most. What does that matter? I'm not satisfied. The realization that this future-forming aspect in my life is less validating than the 800 calorie count I managed hit me in a wave of feelings. Anger. Disappointment. Depression.

My friends are all so much prettier, sociable, skinnier, and naturally likable. The only thing I have is my brain and even that is gone. I cannot best anyone. I'm a fucking average joe. I don't matter.

On my way home, I saw a couple my age. Touchy, new, and very excited. Why can't I have that? What's so lacking in me that a male who can, won't have me? I found myself envious of them, "she's not even pretty" "i bet he's fucking retarded" "what's a boyfriend skinnier than you, a walking thinspo?".

Love is something I crave like a camel does water. A pinch lasts me a mile and a bucket renders me useless and aggravated for more. Although I'm not sure if that's how camels actually like water. This is why creative writing failed me.

But as the thought stands, I crave love. I ache for the times nobody holds me when I cry, whisper sweet nothings in my ear and be considerate of the feelings I hide, unlike everyone. I once told my friend I was sad, and she seemed uncomfortable. So I don't really bother doing that crap anymore. I was right when I thought nothing would change, no one would care. The cuts were fresh and the bandages were wet yet nobody reached in to ask how I was or offered an ear.

I only need to last with them until graduation.

Even my family isn't the loving type. Makes sense, they're not my parents. Everything good I do is some how always balanced into a clumsy mistake, so it's better not to expect anything anymore.

I just want this gone.

This is tiring.

I'm exhausted.

Why did God make me this way? It hurts. All the time, every day — when I eat, study, pass, fail, and continuously live as a disappointment. I just wanna die. Someday I'll be brave enough. But like I am in everything I do, I'll be mediocre and wait till the last minute.

[marisdisry]

Entry IX: 08.31.2024

I love my grandmother, she saw my wrist and immediately her first thought was, "are you in a frat?"

Time sure is interesting.

But the fact I have to regularly fund my own stress relief because p0rn addiction is too damaging is kind of annoying. It's pretty funny too, the fact that a nerve-ruining, mentally-shitting form of pain is less ruinous to the population than p0rn. Blades get rusty quickly so I do my best in always covering them properly and only slit once a week. Not like my schedule would give me more time, anyway.

It's also been a while since I last wrote, I finally got a twitter account so my small number of mutuals get the brunt of my thoughts. Which includes the usual depression and occasional fixation on webcomics I read. Most recent finished one was Oyasumi, Punpun.

There's too many feelings for me to cry properly in the end, but a chapter that hit me like a ten-wheeler does an unsespecting animal was the one where Midori violates him. She was the only relatively parental role in his life, but I doubt all his depression stems from that moment, maybe his sexual habits did though. I see myself in Aiko, devastating in the way she explained her thoughts on love and how she wishes to be saved. But worst of it all, I developed a crush on Punpun Onodera. It's pathetic, I'm all too aware.

I think it's the way he does a complete 360 once finally having Aiko in his grasp. But even before that, something about him triggers this need inside of me to care. To coddle his hurt feelings in my arms and pour every ounce of motherly warmth he never felt in all the years he has lived. Tell him, "you're not so bad. Even as worthless as you are, you could be my world if you let me." I don't care to improve his life, only to see him smile and relieve the thoughts that plague him into insanity.

I loved it. Although I understand how people reacted to the manga, saying things like it's the saddest piece of literature out there or that it changed their brain chemistry. Maybe I'm just dense, but I didn't get any of that, I don't relate to most of the fandom and it makes me feel moronic. I thought it was wonderfully written in showcasing how people change and how cruel the world can get when you're useless and damaged. How love is formed in every way, even damaging.

Maybe I'll write fanfiction about him, who knows? My fixations run deep sometimes.

It helps me out of the days where I think to just drown myself lol.

The reality that this is no longer just a teenage phase is starting to get... scary. What if I never recover? I try, no matter how rarely, I do try. But it seems everything just gets worse — from the eating, to the thoughts and the cutting. What's there to recover for anyway, though? I'm not even BMI 17, I haven't gotten beans, not even a single attempt. I need to get worse. I'll never be valid enough to fuck if I'm just mildly sad or the type to restrict 1k only to binge 3x a week. No.

It's either get so bad and die, or die trying.

This is still fucking stressful. But being with my grandmother helps relieve some of it. My oldest uncle died though, and my cousins are a mess. I'm strangely calm. And have eaten at least 3k calories. Why can't I just end it all.

[marisdisry]

Entry VIII: 07.30.2024

It's so lonely. I live only for myself at this point, and if that's the long-term case, I would rather not. My best friend, my confidant, is busy. She has her own studies and ambitions to pursue, I wouldn't want to distract her or take up precious time, I already take space after all. But sometimes I wish she were as eager as I am. Sometimes I also want to be texted, or even responded to, which she hasn't for the past week.

A typhoon ravaged both our vicinities but I know she has enough time to talk to me, she simply chooses not to. And I don't really blame her, I'm not the most refreshing company. Everyone says this — clingy, suffocating, awkward, all I am that makes me genuinely shitty. I wish I wasn't all those things. I wish I wasn't here at all. I wish I didn't feel this way. I wish people actually cared.

Am I really that difficult? Am I so worthless? Am I off-putting?

I can work on those things. I just don't want to be alone. Discarded.

Sometimes I'd fantasize being with people, holding them and they'd hold me too, tell me, "it's okay. I don't mind these things about you," or "I love you." The people that won't make me feel pathetic. I know I don't deserve them, I have done nothing to do so, but I like to fantasize. I hate this. I hate this so much, I hate myself and everything I have ever felt.

When will this end?

I had driving lessons again today, it was fine. Although my aunt is too loud and mouthy, I say nothing because she knows better after all. It's good that I had them today though, my blades arrive tomorrow and this means I can do my "stuff" without getting stared at and reminded, "self-harm is a sin. You should pray more."

I think it's funny I only ever write here when I'm feeling miserable. But it's fitting, I'm not really all that interesting or fun to write about happy friendships and healthy food (habits).

Also, I may have lost a bit of weight. There's hope after all.

As I sit here, crying like I always have, I still feel better than I did when I was 13. Crying nightly, cutting daily, and dialing the help hotline only to cry again from the necessary concern from the operator. That was the night I thought I may have gone crazy, finding disgusting affections grow in me for a stranger whose job is to tell me "don't kill yourself." He was a man, I guess that's why. Or maybe the way he spoke. "I'm so sorry, you don't deserve to be feeling this way, I hope I could help you."

Maybe I should call again.

See who answers this time.

[marisdisry]

Entry VII: 07.22.2024

I hate being alive. Everyone is aggravating. If I had parents then maybe I won't feel this way, but I don't. I have nobody who actually cares or loves me, at least not like a parent would. I hate it.

We attended a debut, an 18th birthday celebration and it's traditionally grand, very expensive. The type of expensive that only parents would be willing to give, much more when the child is an achieving academic powerhouse. Everything I am not and also don't have.

I hate birthdays. Every birthday I spent after my 11th has been a disaster. I always end up crying and wishing I ended up dead before it even started. Last year was the worst by far. My aunt dragged me to her workplace the entire day and I was already in a foul mood when we left. Then, when we were going to get food, I was hit with the harsh reality that they are only going to give me less than bare minimum. I didn't get a cake because my father didn't send money that year. Obviously, they are not the very loving types. Nor did I feel special on my own birthday because when we got home, she went on to berate me and yell and cry about how I made the entire day hard for her.

There's always the conversation of being honest with my feelings but that doesn't even matter when every decision doesn't hold any concern for me.

I just want to leave.

My next birthday will come someday, but i could already expect the emotional toll on everyone. Should I just kill myself then? I could do it by hanging. I'll definitely slit my wrists though. This is all so fucking annoying. I just want to die. I want to fucking disappear and be rid of everything and everyone.

[marisdisry]

Entry VI: 07.08.2024

I told my older friends about the deed and just like most, they felt sorry and worried for me.

I haven't been doing well with my eating disorder lately, been uncontrollably hungry in order to make up for this long-brewing sadness within me.

Thoughts of relapsing and cutting myself plague me daily, I would have succumbed if not for the driving lessons that expose my arm. I also want to buy a new blade. Thoughts of going deeper thrill me but worries me just as greatly. I would need to buy a good aftercare set, maybe.

This is all so exhausting.

The memories of that night haunt me, my insecurities. What am I really good for if I'm sexually displeasing? What's left of me? What is there to appreciate?

It seems I really am a good for nothing. Not aesthetically, intelligently, or even sexually. So what am I?

I serve no purpose, no pleasure if the one thing I have - my sex - that should be a default of desire is actually undesirable. Unsatisfactory. I hate it.

Am I really that horrendous?

What if nobody loves me anymore when they find out? What if the next one grows disgusted? What if they feel what he felt and throw me away just as coldly? Am I going to die alone?

I don't mind that. But I don't want to be disgusting. I already am ugly, I at least want to be a good... something. A toy, cock sleeve, therapist, or even a rebound. Anything. Please.

I just want to be useful. I don't need to be loved, I only need to be needed. Desired. I wouldn't know what all these things feel like if I stay this way. I need to be different.

Maybe losing weight would help, right?

I hate this. I hate myself. I hate him. I hate everyone. I want to die.

It hurts. I'm sad. I'm extremely disgusted, disappointed with myself.

Why can't I be better? Why can't I just change no matter how hard I try?

I just want to die. I wish I had the courage to kill myself.

When I was 13, I wrote about how I hoped this feeling would disappear into the years. I'm nothing but a ball of disappointment. Nothing disappeared but the ball of youth and sanity I regain every week.

[marisdisry]

Entry V: 07.01.2024

So, it's a new month. Really going to lock in this time. I woke up with a stabbing pain in my stomach but it went away after like, half an hour. Reminds me of when I got daily stomach aches at the peak of my eating disorder, they were pretty bad enough to have me laying on the floor, knees to my chest and secretly reveling in the misery I have achieved. If not stomach aches, it would be severe headaches. The only thing I disliked about it was being unable to workout.

I don't even exercise anymore. School will be back soon so I could get my steps in daily and stop by the gym after. I don't want to die fat.

My relationship with food is genuinely aggravating. I hate it but it's the only thing that occupies my every waking second. Why can't I just stop eating? Why do I have to look this way?

I see the naturally skinny people online and seethe whenever they'd advocate for body positivity or complain about how they could never gain weight. As if being the epitome of beauty is such a struggle. I hope they fucking di3. Not really. But they make my blood boil.

They will never know what it's like to have the short end of the stick.

Anyway. I'm still sad. Boohoo. I want to die.

[marisdisry]

Entry IV: 06.19.2024

Maybe I don't deserve therapy. I still cannot fathom even avoiding my cousin. I am lonely.

Being an only child truly rides you down the deepest depths of loneliness. At least I think so. I'm not all that close with my friends apart from one girl, and I don't try to engage myself with my other friends. While I can see that my upbringing is not naturally at fault, all of this is arguably self-inflicted by isolation, I was never even allowed to play with the children in my neighbourhood and grew up with my development guided by an iPad. If not for school and regular socializing, I would have never learned to speak to people.

I cried the other day from how lonely it felt to wake up by myself, do things by myself, and even sit by myself. I had to send the voice notes to my best friend and speak to my cousin just for assurance that we will see each other again - my older sister/cousin, not the touchy one.

My older friends told me that everything wasn't my fault. I am minimizing the trauma by saying things like "(this happened) but (this happened to make up for it/this was given so this has to be taken in return).

It is going to be a long while until I see them again. I still feel a pang of sadness at the thought. Being by myself all day without one single soul I agree with is torture. How I did it all my life before, I know will come, but right now, I keel over and sob like the immature child I have always been - I have always felt like.

On the other hand, I have started to become more active on EDtwt. Terrible decision, I know. But I would rather have a community I could at least relate to. My body has always been my biggest flaw. The most outstanding mistake I have ever seen walk this Earth. I stopped looking into the mirror long enough to notice what I disliked, and instead, I focused on the newly prominent features that were surfacing from the loss of weight.

I don't have good skin, good teeth, or even a good scent (or so my aunt told me). I would at least want to be shaped nicely. Dainty. Helpless. The true meaning of my existence is lost in the rolls of fat I so indulged in having. Customers would at least like a product they can appreciate in the shadows when the light reveals its true ugliness. Like a fleshlight. I'm not planning on becoming a prostitute yet, but I think you get what I mean.

It's difficult trying to find an older man willing to support an ugly, shameful cause like me. But I will try to keep looking. I do want that new phone.

To be honest, I want everything. I am greedy. Materialistic at best, a thief at worst.

But throughout everything, as I write this and dissect my thoughts and feelings, I still wonder - would things be better if I just killed myself? It's only a passive thought, I still have dreams and ambitions even when I'm not too keen on achieving them. A life of passion is romantic and I fantasize about being one of those young women who are burnt out by academic pressure but still achieve what is expected of them. They are broken and stressed, but they are still the best at their game. Meanwhile, I could barely muster up the motivation to so much as want to take the test I would need to improve my standing in life.

I cut and I starve and I am still the same loser with no self-respect who yearns for her cousin's touch.

Why can't I just be different? Why can't I change? Why do I have to feel this way out of everyone? Is it because I barely believe in God?

I want to be good. I want to succeed.

I want to die. This is all so exhausting.

[marisdisry]

Entry III: 06.13.2024

The second attempt today, he didn't insist like the first time. We were both fully sober. I asked him why, he said he didn't know. I told him he shouldn't have done it and he went quiet. But we laid beside each other, too close for anything that should be familial, his hand in my hair while he massaged my head. It was nice.

We didn't even have sex. He just fingered me.

I was quite distraught when I came to full realization of what occurred, but one hour of fun with everyone completely tarnished what trepidation I had.

What am I even doing? What am I thinking? Have I truly been so naive and desperate that this act of violation is something I tried to... excuse? Am I really just a whore, now?

If things keep going like this, if people find out (and some have, I've told my best friend), would they still respect me? I'm horrid. I'm sitting here with my father and all that occupies my mind is that night, the smell of sweat and aftershave, the sound of his whispers. It's a miracle I didn't cry. I thought I would. But as he finished harassing me, I got up to half-mindedly sit outside the bathroom and arrange the playing cards they left lying on the floor. He came after and went inside the bathroom for a couple, maybe to wash his fingers, and when he came out to find me sitting with a blank stare, he pat my head. Like it's supposed to be comforting. Like he's still my big brother.

There's no use in trying to find reason.

I wish it never happened. I wish I was way more persistent with my rejection. There's just so much a drunk girl can do in a moment of weakness.

It makes me want to rip out my insides and bleach my soul. I've let myself be sullied, I've allowed this to happen because if I was a true victim I would've done EVERYTHING to get it to stop. But what am I even worrying about. At least I'll never see him again. At least he didn't rape me.

I hate this.

[marisdisry]

Entry II: 05.31.2024

I'm unsure how many days have passed since I last spoke to him. But I do know that at least it was I who initiated it. There is just so much a woman can take from someone until he tells her he loves her like he loves his ex. The ex she desperately tried to stray from and be the complete opposite of — is it my fear of being compared, inferior, or just my fear of her?

As I sit here and ponder about the months I have spent stooping into the lowest point of my self-loathing, I wonder... was everything that lead to that moment purposeful? Did he say those words with full intention of driving me away? I would think so, but I also know he is of self-sabotage tendencies.

I'm lonely. Sad. But also, somehow peaceful. I would talk to my best friend about this but I feel she would just tell me what I already know — he's a bitch, I shouldn't have stayed for so long, and that I was stupid.

I no longer think about how maybe I wasn't good enough, pretty enough, or smart enough. I still do, but not because of him. Instead, I think about how much I regret ever taking the chance with him. He made me feel what 3 years of commitment could not, but that goes in every way of hurt and affection.

That's not to say I didn't hurt him either. I was a hypocrite who burdened him with my insecurity and jealousy and issues that should have been my actual focus instead of him.

This may sound toxic but I don't mind my damages. If anything, they make me more attainable, low enough to reach. Like a barely ripe mango that dangles in front of you conveniently on a summer afternoon. It's small enough to fit in your palm but it's firm, not soft enough like the fully ripe kin that sits too highly in the branches. You would actually have to work for the good mango. But this one is already in front of you, and if it doesn't satisfy, at least it gives you the motivation to strive for more. For better.

There is no sense in becoming a fully good person, at least for me. I'm tame, devoted, and malleable. But if I were confident, smart, and firm, it would look out of place within the crevices of my unpleasant appearance. These damages — jealousy, daddy issues, porn addiction, naivety, and even immaturity — are heavily fetishized. I don't have the beauty to escape the comments that would degrade my partner if they were seen with me, so I would want to make it up to him by being his loyal dog.