thequasar

[thequasar]

Diary Entry 3/14/2025

I don’t understand why I’m imprisoned in this lifetime. I’m not technically alone—I’m surrounded by people—but I feel completely isolated. No one truly gets me. No one understands me. And for whatever reason, people are always in silent competition with me.

I don’t get it. I’m an open person. If I were competing with someone, I’d say it to their face. I think it’s cringe when people assume I’m secretly against them. If they really knew me, they’d know I only want the best for them. So when people act like I have some hidden animosity, I know they’re just projecting their own bullshit onto me.

And what’s even crazier? They assume I have money. Just because of the way I look. Just because of the way I dress. But the reality? I have five fucking dollars to my name. I’m drowning in debt. I live with my parents. I’ve never been in a relationship. My mental health is either crashing or barely hanging on, day by day. And I have no fucking clue what direction I’m supposed to take in life.

On top of that, I can’t stop arguing with my parents. It’s to the point where if I just walk by them, they have to say some slick shit. And I’m always in defense mode because of it. They put me in this constant state of tension and expect me to just take it. Shut up and deal with it.

Honestly, if I have to reincarnate, it better be into a smaller, more emotionally intelligent family. Because these people? They’re fucking stupid. I love them—sometimes—but they push me past my breaking point on a daily basis. They test my patience, my empathy, my ability to even function like a normal person.

I even tried to run away to Arizona. Didn’t work. I was followed. Still harassed.

And I keep asking God—why the fuck am I here? Why am I stuck with these people? I don’t want them. I don’t want to be here.

I can tolerate my mother at times, but even then, she irritates the shit out of me. The only reason I deal with her is because she feeds me. And even that pisses me off, because if I cook for myself, I get judged the entire fucking time.

I’m so fucking tired of this shit.

[thequasar]

Diary Entry 3/5/2025

The betrayal of a mother’s trust has to be the most heartbreaking thing a person can experience. I can’t understand how a mother can do everything except want peace for her child. I don’t understand why my mother acts the way she does. She isn’t completely horrible—she feeds me and gives me shelter—but everything else is off the table. She lies, manipulates, throws away my stuff, gaslights me, and pretends to be self-righteous when she’s really just a hypocrite. She calls me all kinds of names, says horrible things to me, and I’ve grown to hate her in a way I don’t even know how to express anymore.

Sometimes, I look at her and feel a hatred so deep that I can understand why people kill—not that I would ever do that to anyone, let alone my own mother. But Jesus, this woman is a walking demon, and I wish she would just drop dead. The heartbreak and grief would be easier to handle than the constant bullshit she puts me through. She has stripped away every ounce of peace I’ve ever known, constantly ridiculing me, calling me names, and making sure every move I make is criticized and announced like a spectacle.

I try to think of good memories with her, but all that flashes through my mind are moments of betrayal—her taking everyone else’s side when I needed her most, embarrassing me every chance she got, exposing my secrets to anyone willing to listen, promising to keep things between us only to turn around and tell the whole world. I want to run away because she feels more like my prison guard than my mother. Honestly, the only time she ever felt like a real mom was before I came out of the closet.

Some days, I can tolerate her. Other days, I can’t even stand to look at her. She is truly despicable to me. I’ve given up on calling her out on her bullshit because it’s pointless—she just hides behind my sister, who is too dependent on her to ever go against her. My mom takes care of her granddaughter for free, so she knows she has her wrapped around her finger. Anything I do is immediately demonized or dismissed, and it has destroyed my sense of pride, dignity, faith, trust, and love for this family.

I can barely have a normal conversation with these people. I don’t trust them for shit. They make me feel horrible every single day, and sometimes I can’t even stand to be in the same room as them. I want to run far away, but I don’t understand why God insists on keeping me close to people who don’t feel like family—they feel like strangers who bully me.

I wake up scared, constantly stuck in a brain fog, which I’m pretty sure is caused by them. Just writing about this now makes me angry. I fucking hate them. I really wish God would just get me out of this situation because I can’t stand living in this household anymore. I wish I could disappear and never hear from them again.

And now, I see them manipulating my niece against me—my poor angel. I’ve been demonized, ridiculed, and picked apart in every way possible. I can’t sleep at night, and my suicidal thoughts creep in more often than not. I wonder why I even keep myself on this planet if this is the kind of treatment I have to endure. I tell myself I stay to avoid putting my family through the distress of my death, but the truth is, as the days go by, I’m starting to not give a fuck anymore.

[thequasar]

Diary Entry 3/3/2025

Today, I got my car towed because I couldn’t afford to pay for it. I don’t know why I am the way I am—why I’m always broke, struggling to find a way to earn money. Sometimes, I look at drug dealers and criminals, and I start to understand them more. I get why they do what they do. The alternative is losing everything you’ve worked for.

I’ve tried so many times to do the right thing, but I always come up short. It feels like the system is rigged against people who try to do things the honest way, making the wrong path seem like the only real option. I don’t understand why I’m stuck in this never-ending cycle of being broke. I’m a joke—to my family, my past friends, and even myself.

I’ve tried my best to find a good-paying job, but everything requires a degree—something I don’t have because I dropped out of college. I left because I had no idea what I wanted to do, and, more than anything, I just wanted a peaceful place to study. But I never got that at home. My ex-best friend Leslie would just say, “Oh, go study somewhere else.” But that dumb bitch didn’t account for the fact that I didn’t have a car, meaning I had to constantly find rides and pay for gas just to get to a quiet place.

I’ve never had peace. Just constant arguments, mostly from my mom and dad—pointless fights that I tried to prevent before they even started. My mom, for example, insisted on cleaning everything for me, even though I begged her to stop and let me do it myself. She never listened. Instead, she used it to paint this image that I was lazy, playing the role of a struggling, overworked mother whenever other people were around. In reality, she was just desperate to make me look bad.

Leslie would say, “Jonathan, just beat her to it,” like I was supposed to wake up at the crack of dawn just to do the laundry, clean my room, the kitchen, and the bathroom before she could get to it. Like I didn’t have school and a job to worry about. Like I didn’t deserve a full night’s sleep. But no matter what I did, I still ended up in heated arguments because I wanted to clean on my own time.

Talking to these people was exhausting. Every conversation felt like they were just waiting for me to say the wrong word, use the wrong tone—anything to start a fight. I never understood why. I always wanted peace. I always offered solutions. But that was never enough.

In the end, I let my mom have her way. The real reason she insisted on cleaning after me wasn’t because she cared about tidiness—it was because she loved snooping through my stuff. I know this because she constantly threw away things she thought were trash—things I bought with my own money.

She claimed she did it because I smoked weed. But the reality is, I turned to weed because she stressed me the hell out.

[thequasar]

Diary Entry 3/2/2025

I can't stop thinking about the boy next door. He's actually so hot and just my type. But I don’t think he likes me very much. Every time I try to at least say hi, he gives me this disgusted look—like he genuinely despises me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but he definitely doesn’t like me. Maybe he’s heard the countless arguments between me and my parents and decided I’m just some spoiled brat who takes them for granted.

But in reality, I don’t let my parents pay for anything. I make sure never to ask them for money anymore because the moment I do, it’s used against me, making me look like I’m just using them. Even when they insist on giving me money for food or essentials, I hesitate. Just the other day, I had to beg my mother for support in a moment of crisis, and she still chose to believe I had done something horrible rather than consider that something horrible had been done to me. She didn’t even know that the group of people she was about to defend had actually come together to try and ruin my life.

And for what? Because I reported them to HR? That was enough for them to turn against me. HR, my manager, and that asshole who made me feel so uncomfortable—they all sided with each other, and I was left standing alone, humiliated. My life is just one long series of misunderstandings and people in power taking advantage of me. I’m so fucking tired of being my only cheerleader, my only defender. That’s really why I struggle to ask for help. No matter what happens, everyone automatically believes the other person over me. Even though I’ve never given them a reason to doubt me.

People have called me lazy and ignorant in the past, only for me to be proven right when the same people who wronged me turned around and wronged them. And yet, here I am, sitting alone, all because I had the courage to speak up. I’m sick and tired of always being alone in this world.

Maybe that’s why I keep staring at the boy next door and daydreaming about him being my knight in shining armor. He feels like an escape. I imagine him coming in and saving the day, pulling me out of this miserable cycle. When I look at him, I see everything I wish I could be—he drives a nice Porsche, he has a cute dog, he even gardens, and it all looks so perfect. He seems smart, kind, understanding—a good listener, someone warm, like a big teddy bear.

His girlfriend, though? Fat and ugly. He could do so much better, if I’m being honest. But hey, I guess everyone has their preferences.

[thequasar]

Diary Entry 3/1/2025

Today im nothing but angry. Im angry at everyone in the past. Astrologically speaking i want revenge i dont feel as thought he universe is jusictly fighting more me. But more of bullying me instead. I dont understand the reason ive been nothing but nice to people yet im the one thats constantly punsihded for either sticking upf or myself or not sticking up for myself. Everytime i stick up for myself i get a huge amount of karma thrown at me. Everytime i dont stick upf or myself I lose anyways and the person who bullied me gets away and ALSO GETS REWARDED. I dont understand what lesson the universe wants to teach me. I dont get why everything is hell bent on me being imprisoned in this household. Im just tired and exhausted of pleading to be released. I dont get why i still get karma for shit i didnt do. Whatever the universe is teaching me its undoing its effects and worsting the lesson it previously taught me.

[thequasar]

Diary Entry: 2/27/2025

It started with me. Well, in a sense, it didn’t—but it did.

For those of you who don’t know, I’m a psychic. Not in the way you see in movies—I can’t levitate or perform impossible feats. Though, I suppose, some of it might seem crazy. It all began when I was young, just a voice in my head that wouldn’t go away. Eventually, I realized it was my own voice—but from the future.

At first, I thought I was schizophrenic. Who wouldn’t? But then, the things I heard started coming true. Sometimes it was five seconds ahead, sometimes five minutes, five hours, even days later. I still don’t fully understand how it works or if I ever will. And the truth is, I have no one to talk to about it.

I feel like I’m losing my mind. My thoughts are tangled, my emotions overwhelming, and there’s no one to help me make sense of it all. My past haunts me while my future looms over me. I try to ground myself in the present, but I can’t escape the exhaustion of remembering people I’d rather forget. And then there are those who watch me from a distance, like I’m some kind of zoo animal. Why? I’ve always been open with people, but maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe that’s why I turn to astrology—to reassure myself that good things are coming. I do believe in Jesus Christ, that He has a plan for me. But even so, I feel so alone. Even my own mother doesn’t understand me. She calls me lazy, thinks I have anger issues. But I’m not lazy—I’m depressed. I’m lonely. And I wish she could see that.

I don’t know how to handle loneliness, but I think I’m getting better at it. I’m learning to rely on myself. But at the same time, it feels like I’m losing my grip. I don’t know how to stop my mind from spiraling into dark places. I try to sleep it off, but even that is difficult. My hearing is too sensitive, and no one seems to care. I haven’t slept well in ages—maybe not since I got back from Arizona. I wish I could go back. I really do. Maybe now, being alone would be easier.

I dream of distant lands, of feeling the earth beneath my feet. I think about the one brave decision I made—moving to Arizona—and the shame of coming back. I think about all the times I embarrassed myself, the awkward things I’ve said and done. No wonder people always turned their backs on me.

Why am I the way I am? Is it because I never had guidance? Because of the endless battles I’ve fought in silence? The constant flood of thoughts that never stop? The whirlwind of emotions that take hold of me at any moment?

I’m trying. Trying to hold on, trying to be more positive. But my mind feels like it’s fracturing. I crave companionship, yet I long to be alone. I want love, but I run the moment I see someone I’m drawn to. I love talking about God, but I avoid church, afraid of being seen. I want to be famous, but I hate the attention. I want to be rich and work hard, but I’m exhausted all the time. I want to escape, but I don’t have the strength.

I want someone to save me, but at the same time, I refuse to be saved by anyone but myself.

Thanks for the read. :)