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Secrets

Not like what you’d expect. I’m an open book. If you want to know something, just ask. Never been one good at concealing my emotions. If I feel something, then I show it very blatantly. It’s not something I truly have control over. Sometimes I’m not even trying to look one way or another and people pick up on how I’m feeling, as if there is a neon sign that says what I’m feeling. 

Sometimes I wish my thoughts could just stay in my mind. Then again, it might just explode. Either way, I don’t like it when people act like they know me. I change personalities on a dime. I don’t have a solid sense of self. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I am somebody different to everyone. When I hang out with multiple people, I feel as if I am caught up in the multiple identities I have created based off other people I like. I hate that I am like water in Tupperware. When I watch a movie or Youtuber, I pick up traits from that person and make myself a makeshift version of that person. When I am close to a person, I start acting like them, saying things like them, even down to the way they hold their pen. I study people, I’m a writer so it’s my job. For some reason, I have always imitated people that I admire in some way. 

My secrets rest in my dark purple bags under my eyes, in the tangles of my hair, in the chipped nail polish on my fingernails, in my slumped posture. 

Let’s talk about Korean. I am learning Korean again, as I have rediscovered my passion for it. The thing is, my passion for life is disappearing. I no longer care if I get out of bed. I was doing so well, and as always I end up in a deeper hole than before. The Korean language is one that I have been learning on and off for about four years. I’ve been using sites like talk to me in korean and how to study korean.com and it has been so much fun. I no longer care much for Kpop. I feel as though kpop is the equivalent of processed meat. It just sounds fake and you can’t even hear the artists’ passion. No offense to the millions of stans, it’s just not for me. I’ve been trying to watch dramas, but I keep failing because my attention span is too short and I keep getting distracted by other things. 

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Early mornings

Good morning everyone. Everything has been going fine. I use this blog as a kind of diary. Nobody really reads it or follows it so I’m pretty candid about how I feel. I think that if more people read what I wrote than I would not be able to express how shitty I feel. 

I want to make a video series about my weight loss journey. It’s because it’s something that I have always been dealing with. I’ll write it here, because writing is easier than speaking sometimes. 

As a child I was always surrounded by bigger adults. My mom, my dad, my other family members, their friends, my step parents. When I went to school, I was the fat kid. During P.E. I dreaded every moment of moving because I felt so fucking embarrassed that I couldn’t touch my toes, or do a sit up, or do a push up.

Unfortunately I have a very toxic relationship with food. It’s because I really don’t know how to deal with my emotions. Whenever I feel something: anger, hurt, upset, happiness, anxious, depressed, boredom, etc. No matter what is going on I am always hungry and I just want to binge until I physically am in pain. I can’t stop myself, it’s so fucking hard to stop whenever there is still food left. It’s greedy and stupid. I hate whenever I keep eating. Especially in public. When I was younger, and eating at restaurants, there was so much shame and guilt about eating as much as I was. Then I would go on hating myself, feeling everyone eyes on me. Later, I would binge on snacks in order to compensate for how horrible I felt. In the privacy of my own house. 

Goodbye guys. I will see y’all later.

04.11.2020

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Double chin

Hey all you cool cats and kittens. I haven’t been on tumblr in a long time, like months. Which I think is for the better considering my health and the things that people post on here. However, I have returned because I have abandoned all other social medias for the time being. Let’s have a chat. 

My instagram is not where I want it to be, which is not that big of a deal. My youtube is something that I try really hard to improve. I try to make content that I find entertaining. I had 12 subscribers for a while, and now I only have 11. It hurt me a lot because I am a small channel as it is, and now I feel like the whole idea is stupid and who am I for thinking that I could be good at that?? I was getting more comfortable on camera, considering that I really don’t have friends. It made me realize that I don’t matter. Like my channel is dumb and nobody even wants to watch my stupid videos. I’ve been on youtube for like almost a year. It hurts that in a year I have not gained any momentum. I know that people are not supposed to compare themselves to others but this one girl only has two videos and just started two days ago and already has a hundred subscribers. It just seems pointless. She’s making the same kind of content I am. Maybe I am just unlikable? 

Another thing is that for the past few days I have been exercising. I have BED, Binge Eating Disorder and that has been really great. I have not bought any junk food or hidden or hoarded any food for a few months now. It feels amazing, because I have the urge to just go to the store and buy snickers, milky ways, m&m’s, and my favorite, Reese’s Eggs that are filled with PEANUT BUTTER!! But I have not given into my urges. In fact, I have been eating smaller portions and eating more slowly. I have been doing physical activity everyday this week: 200 jumping jacks and a walking a mile, raking and yard work, 200 jumping jacks and walking 2 miles, 300 jumping jacks and a bike ride, and washing two cars in the afternoon sun. I’ve showered and taken care of myself everyday. I’ve been getting eight or nine hours of sleep a night. 

This whole social media thing is almost allowing myself an excuse to give up on what all I have been doing. But I won’t give up. I want to be skinny and healthy. I want to fit into clothes of a smaller size. I want to be more active. 

I don’t want to have a double chin. I don’t want to be so wide. I don’t want to have a floppy stomach. I don’t want to breath so hard after doing something so minor. I don’t want to take pictures of myself and be disgusted. I don’t want to look in the mirror and hate what I see. The life I’m living is not what I want. It’s all my doing. There’s nothing I can blame my weight on. 

I went to the doctor’s office. He told me that I needed to lose weight. I am 5″7, 16 years old (17 in 5 days) and weight 248lbs. That shook me to my core. My weight is only 52lbs away from 300. That’s not what I want. My ugw is 145lbs. But I can’t get there continuing to shove my face into junk food and sit on my ass. I am not going to be another amberlynn. There’s so much similar about us, that it scared me. The it made me sick. Then it motivated me. I watch her constantly. She’s my inspiration because I don’t want to end up like her. 

04.10.2020

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gluttony

yeah, i know. here we go again. another rant about my personal goals and my struggles. this blog is kinda like my online diary. to be honest, i’m not really the best at keeping up with daily routines. despite saying that i am going to start doing something everyday, it typically fails after the second day. nothing to defend myself from the truth, i’m just lazy. 

i struggle with eating. it’s my drug of choice. except, i’m trying to quit. unlike with actual drugs, i can’t just cut my ties with negative people, people who do the drugs, the suppliers, the clients, etc. everyone eats food. it’s a basic necessity of life. food is everywhere. it’s in ads, in shows, there’s mukbangs, it’s in the house, it’s at school, it’s at work. there is no escaping it. everywhere you turn there is food. 

i want to be healthy, be skinnier, be thinner, be lighter. seeing all the short, skinny girls at my school it makes me loath what’s in the mirror, and what’s in the front-facing camera. 

a note to my future-self. don’t eat it, if you are full. if you have already eaten. if you have eaten your meals, and drank your water then you don’t need anything else. those seconds, snacks, and large proportions. all i do is eat. 

food is ruling my life and it all just feels like it’s all out of control. people think that i just need self-control. but food is just the vice. it’s just filling up patches in my soul.

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MIA on youtube

Here is my list of goals I announced for 2020.

+ Read every day.

+ Finish one book every month.

+ Write everyday.

+ Study Spanish everyday.

+ Review Korean four times a week.

+Exercise twice a week

+Post two videos a week.

That’s it. Those were my goals. I have failed to post at all last week. I filmed two videos, and kind of started editing them. Except, I didn’t really like what I created. I wasn’t happy with the project. I felt like I could have done better, like this content just wasn’t good enough. The whole process was all very tense, and when the week had based all six days, on the seventh day I wanted to film a different video but I was just too tired from working twenty hours and going to school and then doing homework and socializing, (in isolated segments) and just wanted a day off. Well, I took a week off, unintentionally. It was all a lot to take in. The fact that I have failed so early on in the year. Then I took some time to reflect. This is not a failure. Rather than a failure this is just a lesson on what not to do. Because, there is something to be learned, this was a very valuable experience. So, back to your regularly scheduled program. ;;)

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It’s five in the morning.

Hey sports fans. Welcome back to your regularly scheduled sports program. Today, we are going to be discussing something that hits home for a lot of us. Stress. Everywhere there is stress. There’s stress at school, at work, at the store, at home. You wake up stressed about the things you have to do that day. You get ready, stressed because you woke up late, or because you lost something important. You’re stressed because your car is low on gas and that always makes you nervous. You’re stressed because you’re running to catch your form of public transportation.You hope you don’t miss it. That would suck. You’re stressed at school, if you still go to school. If not, on the way to work, you’re stressed because for some reason you keep thinking back to those days, when standardized-tests and raising your hand to ask to go to the bathroom was all you knew. Now you’re at work, if you’re employed, stressed by all the shit going on. Your co-workers are annoying, your boss is a jerk, and the customers are a bunch of narcissistic pricks. If you don’t have a job, you’re highly stressed about money, how you’re going to make it. Then you finally get to go home at the end of the day. Now it’s dark outside, you didn’t even get to enjoy the sunshine. You had homework, or they worked you overtime, or somebody called you up and you helped them move, or bought groceries, or went to the bank, or went to the post office, or met with your therapist to discuss (or just pretend like you don’t have) childhood traumas. But normal people don’t have therapists, and that stresses you out. Why aren’t you normal? You live a boring, meaningless live, filling the mold and living a pre-planned life. One that many, many, many people live. And yet, you’re still to fucked up in the head to be considered normal, because you have “anxiety” and that stresses you out. Just the word. You open the door and immediately crash you’re so tired, to hell with anything that isn’t sleeping. So you sleep for a good bit, and then make yourself dinner. You burn it, stress overflows your system, and you just sit there, looking at a burnt frozen pizza and cry. It’s been such a shitty day. You just wanted something good to eat to send you off back to bed. But no. So you just order a pizza, and it takes forever. You keep stressing, checking the pizza tracking. You imagine the people making the pizza. You imagine them burning it, and crying. A knock at the door. It’s a acne-faced thirty-something man, holding a black bag containing your food, FINALLY. You tip him, it’s a nice tip, because you know how hard life is. You thank him and close the door. How you love happy endings. you make it just to the table and you trip over nothing. The pizza goes flying in the air, and the box lands faced upside-down. It’s okay, the pizza isn’t messed up that bad, so you put on your favorite youtuber and binge. Life is good sometimes.  

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Vibe Check?

I wouldn’t call this a life update, because it is more about my emotions and yada yada. So here’s the thing fam, I am going through an identity crisis. My whole life, I have identified several factors about my circumstances and have established myself as a certain type of person. I am a Writer with a capital w. When things don’t go well, alone time is a must. Oh, and the undeniable fact that my brain lacks both common sense and intelligence. Rather, my form resembles that of a balled up wad of paper being dunked into a trashcan like a basket-ball into a hoop. At any-rate, the causes of my lack of intelligence has not yet been identified. Both of my parents went to college and earned a degree. At first, people blamed it on me “not trying” and “not caring” which is true. Back then, I really didn’t care. Not to be dramatic, but academics wasn’t what my mind was focused on at the time. Then, a little later on, people began to drop the “I’m not applying myself” spiel, and moved on to accuse another suspect, mental issues? People thought that I had ADHD because I was very forgetful and didn’t pay much attention to anything at all except I paid great attention to the few specific things that I liked, hyper focus I would go on to learn. And then, much later on, I found it that described me. Dyslexia. (Ironic that it’s spelled like that) I have dyslexia, and that is why I am slow. I get letters mixed up, my tongue gets tied, I do math backwards, thinking takes a lot of concentration. When I read those instructions, I’d read them over and over mulling over the spelling and the possible meanings. Sure I knew some of the words but when you shove them together, it was all so much to process. Spelling was the worst. Even today, speaking is rather difficult because I reconstruct the letters to morph into a hybrid-glob. Life is a whole lot harder when you’re slow. 

So anyway, I have a YouTube channel. I post twice a week. It makes me happy. I am writing many, many things. I am reading You, and The Book Thief. Both are great books to start the new year.

My grades are all A’s and B’s, and I am only getting four hours of sleep a night. But yes. 

That’s all Folks.

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Happy Halloween

A knock at the door awoke you from your daydream.

You could have sworn you left the light off.

The bucket by the door had been full of candy at one point. It was late, and most of the children had returned home to prepare for school tomorrow.

Only a few Sour Patch kids and Swedish Fish packets remained at the bottom of the orange jack-o-lantern bucket.

So you grabbed it and open the door, greeting the unexpected visitors.

Nobody was there. You poked your head out of the doorway, peering around every which way.

No sign of anyone. Damn kids.

You dropped the bucket back by the door and plopped onto the couch.

As you turned on Netflix, curling up on the couch, you though about how badly you needed a new couch.

Sure yours was still in one piece, but it had holes, tears, and stains.

About twenty minutes of scrolling through the comedy section, you settle on an old horror movie you’d never heard of.

The title was: Rose Marie and Ashes. You honestly didn’t care at this point, except the title was a little intriguing.

It took place in a sleepy town of

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A stained letter.

Perhaps it is because of the early years that her sentiments ramain so vivid. Writing stained letters. People wouldn’t read them. Because they were faded, old, and stained. The paper, covered in feces. But her heart was poured into that shit pile.

Those stained letters sat there, untouched, unacknowledged because they weren’t beautiful.

While the mind moving the pen matured, the freckled tear-drops stains never did change.

Nobody dared to read the letters.

One day, they could no longer stand the smell, and they rallied together.

Stealing into the night with such vigor and passion, they took the letters and burned them, reducing the shitty writing to ashes.

Perhaps they should have read them,

Or perhaps not.

A secret meeting between a diamond necklace, and a thin pale neck was described.

‘Please don’t be angry, my eyes could no longer stand to see any longer. This necklace with surely set me free’

The writer was gone. She had left only two things.

An empty bed, and a pile of letters.

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Sneaking-Out

Scared to get caught. You sit in your bed for two hours. It’s now three in the morning. Then, you decide to get up and go on a spontaneous adventure.

You get up and do all the things that you should have down before you crashed.

Lay out clothes for tomorrow, set an alarm, get water, brush teeth, put on pjs.

Then you decide to go out into the world.

You go to open the door, slowly unlocking it, then pulling it open completely.

You wait a second. Then another. Then another. There is no rustle from your parents room. The air is still.

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Allergies

Hate these stupid allergies. Weather changing means that there’s dry throats, scratchy voices, runny noses, stuffed noses, and watery eyes.

It’s not cold enough for Mosquitoes to die yet. It’s in the 70s. So ready to go home and sleep forever.

You know I was running this weekend. It felt amazing. So liberating. When people talk about running, I’ve never understood how they can do it willingly much less enjoy it. Growing up, I was a fat kid. So during PE, I’d be hyper-self-conscious about my body and how I looked doing the exercises.

Now, the humiliation of exercising in front of people is still overwhelming. Back then exercising by my-self felt worse because then I had nothing to distract from the negativity.

I just want to lose weight. It’s getting to the point where I’m ready to stop eating all together until I reach my ugw.

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After three weeks

I finally posted a video on my channel. :)

I’m proud to say!

There are so so (Yes, I said it twice on purpose.) many ideas I have. Taking them out of my head and creating them is the difficult part. Gonna go be depressed now and eat my spaghetti. ;;)

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No words

I think that all the words in my body have been drained out. Trying to write my daily short story. My creative energy is an all-time low.

Even though I’m typing words, it feels like time is rushing by and I’m stuck in slow motion.

Like I can’t speed up, I can’t catch up, I can’t do anything.

It honestly sucks because I have so many ideas and things to write. But I just don’t have it in me right now.

My brain feels fried. Except I feel dead because I’m not writing. Yet when I’m writing, I just feel like trash.

Modern problems require modern solutions.

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Check Out

I can’t, but I want to. Determinated to stay. Can’t skip out, can’t skip. Got to see it through. Every day. No matter how difficult it is. Even when there is nothing left inside me, when I feel all but dead.

Mentally, I’m gone. Buzzing about, thinking of all the things I want to do. Goals everyday. Everyday there’s at least one thing I want to do, that I don’t do.

Listen, today I have some unique challenges.

Interview the Band (in an hour)

Run to work after school (don’t be late)

Alongside my other obligations. Today I’m finishing up my video. Really hoping to be super active on my YouTube channel after abandoning it for (a couple) weeks. (More like years..)

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One short story a day

Writing one short story every day has made me realize something I’ve always known, but ignored.

I write characters. But I don’t write stories. There is no plot at all in most of these stories. They’re more of a glimpse into someone else’s life.

It’s depressing. I know two things to help with this issue. Read more and write more.

Plots are extremely complex. There are so many parts and they all have to be done well.

An expedition introducing the characters in their natural world. Setting up for the actual you know story. And then you have the rising action. This is when you’re trying to point to interesting stuff in the book, and saying ��Hey! You should be invested so I can break you properly later!”

Then it’s the climax, when the tension is at an all time high. Then you have the resolution, and conclude the book.

My books are more like:

Here’s a person.

Here’s their life.

Here’s their goal.

The end.

So that’s something to work on. ;;)

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Unoriginally Original

Guys, let me be the first to say, I’ve been lazy. Being lazy makes me feel worse though.

Pretty much, I’ve abandoned all the fictional responsibilities. Only doing the bare minimum. Going to school, completing my homework, going to work, going to bed on time. Other than that, just laying in bed.

No writing, no pictures on insta, no tumblr rants, no videos for YouTube, no editing, no studying languages.

Creating is a part of who I am. When I’m not writing I get depressed. Writing is good for not only my mental health, but it also helps me feel better in other aspects of my life. When I’m writing, I’m reading, I’m studying, making good grades, getting rid of all these words and ideas that clutter my brain. There are many reasons why I write. I write to take myself away, to help others escape, to explore ideas, to fantasize, to learn, to ask questions, to answer questions, and the list goes on. So it is crucial that I write.

So that’s my rant for the day. Goodbye.

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Insanity is contagious

A buzz swarming in my bosom. Static in my brain. Whispers licking the silver string of sanity. Here, under the covers where the monsters can’t get you. You’ll sweat, you’ll writher. In the spaces between her words you will feel a familiar heat rise in your lungs. Shallow, you inhale. Slowly you exhale. Ghost aren’t real. She isn’t real.

You can see her, hear her, smell her, feel her.. but she’s not real. They take you away, throw you into the landfill of society. They can’t see her but oh you can. She fed you, clothed you, washed you. They pull you away. Thrusting you into an unmarked van. Then taken to little room. With white walls, a bed locked to the floor, a carpet ugly and old. Barren and white.

You don’t sleep. You can’t sleep. They won’t let you see her. It’s all you can think about.

“You’re just like your mother.”

“Do you want to go live with your mother?”

“You look just like her.”

Blood splatters the fresh linens stacked on the table. Cyanide soaks the lemon water. Screams echo the vacant halls. Nail polish stains the victims’ skin.

“Your father’s a liar”

“Shut up!”

“Don’t let men think you’re easy.”

Fairy tales and happy endings.

Lullabies and nursery rhymes.

Slamming doors and divorce papers.