ghost castle

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the long one

i usually try to be brief in these. part of it is for my own sake, to keep me from wallowing. part of it is an aesthetic thing, trying to keep scrollbars as far from this site as possible. part of it is that it can be so goddamn hard to actually write anything sometimes.

but i just have to type now.

i've had a lot on my mind lately. i've slumped a lot harder than i have in a while. i look at the site and it's just slumps, though. of course i mostly write here when i feel bad so of course it's gonna mostly be me feeling bad. but it still feels stupid to say i'm worse now than i have been when i'm always bad. like saying, "oh, this forest was already kind of on fire but now it's really on fire!" "oh this guy fell down some stairs but now he really fell down some stairs!"

a lot of what i'm feeling is stuff i've written about before, including the anxiety about restating things i've already said, as if i've made no progress. it's one of the reasons i'm just typing this one long entry rather than writing multiple smaller entries, so that if you're sick of reading my same shit then you hopefully only have to skip this one.

i've struggled with my self worth so much lately. it's prevented me from doing basically everything. i've neglected my few responsibilities. i've let the dishes and the clothes pile up. i haven't been taking care of myself. i haven't been taking my medicine. i haven't been eating. my thinking has been: what's the point? why should i take care of myself? i'm me. that's a damn good reason to just let it all die, i feel. i'm not worth the effort. say i work as hard as i possibly can to be who i want to be. i still won't win, because who i want to be is someone who isn't me. but chances are i won't work as hard as i possibly can. chances are i won't even get close to being who i want to be. so if i can't even come close to not being who i want to be, why even put in any effort at all? wasting time and energy on a best-chance scenario of failing to fail. i went to therapy on tuesday. i spent the whole hour talking about not being worth the energy needed to make myself lunch. i'm about 85% sure my therapist almost started crying. i don't think that's a good sign.

i've been such a fucking asshole lately. i'm glad there's no one around who's had to endure it. my patience has been thinner than paper. i've lost my shit at everything. a cup falling over. a lightbulb going out. having to feed my pets. it makes me want to disappear. i lost my mind at a fucking video game. the most useless thing to get mad at. what a fucking loser asshole.

i had an app i used to talk to random people. a few people on there i talked to semi-regularly. one person i had been talking to for like 5 months maybe. i torched it. i explained that i can't hold a conversation anymore because i don't see myself as something worth talking about and so i can never think of something to say. i explained that i think it's cruel to make someone think about me. i said i'm sorry for wasting your time, and i left. i don't think any of them cared. i don't.

my family is planning a christmas trip. the whole thing hinges on whether or not i'm going. they ask if i'm going. what am i supposed to say? i lay awake in bed last night watching a movie in my head on repeat. it was the story of a brave little chunk of lead, leaving its home in a burst of excitement, eager to experience all the sights and sounds of the big wide world that's contained inside my skull. i can't tell them that. i can't say i don't know if i'll go on the christmas trip because i look into the future and i don't see two months ahead of me. i can't tell them i got cast in the remake of my favorite movie. i can't tell them how peaceful the new ending feels.

i found a lump on my jaw and my hypochondria exploded. it's most likely just a swollen lymph node. i know because i wasted the money to see a doctor to have them tell me the same thing i already suspected in my logical mind. as soon as i walked out of the office i felt like a goddamn idiot. that visit to get told what i already knew means a lot of food and medicine i can't afford now. i guess in some unhealthy way it was worth it to alleviate my medical anxiety. it's an issue with me. before i started this site i had a period where i was fully convinced i was dying. i even tallied up everything i could sell to fund one long drug binge before the end. i was certain. i was wrong.

i took a picture of myself i liked. i don't like it anymore. i saw a me in the mirror i liked. i don't see it anymore. i'm a gross mess. ugly as fuck. i went to the bathroom and froze in front of the mirror. i couldn't bring myself to look in it. i stood for several seconds fighting the feeling before i walked away with my head hung low. i'm barely anything. i'm a head of hair on vocal chords with a heartbeat. i'm not enough.

i wish i knew love. i don't. never met it. never been kissed. don't think anyone's held my hand. don't know the last time someone who wasn't my mom gave me a hug. a lot of that is my own fault. hiding away from it all. putting myself somewhere that i can't even try to find love. now i have to sit here and say this shit and feel like some pathetic idiot complaining about not getting laid. now i look into a big world full of billions of people and sit uncomfortably in the knowledge that no one sees me, no one wants me, no one notices, and i'll never not be alone. your own fault. deserve it. your own fault. deserve it. give up. give up.

there's a part of me that's growing to resent this site. often it feels like a desperate attempt to connect that barely, if at all, meets that goal. like someone going on twitter or something and saying, "i don't want to talk about it." great attention fishing. i'm sure sooomeooooone will come along and save you. fuckhead.

i can't entertain myself anymore. everything reminds me of either something i wish i had but don't, or something i do have and wish i didn't. happy songs are pain, sad songs are pain, angry songs are pain, sultry songs are pain, fucking instrumentals are pain. can't watch movies. can't play games. everything just puts a magnifying glass on my constant unending emptiness.

i want to be sober. but sobriety just leads to tears.

i had another paragraph. i don't remember it now. i don't remember the points i wanted to make. ironically it was about my memory falling apart. is that irony? i don't fucking care.

that's all, i guess. there's more. but it's not coming out.

bye for now.