CorruptedDreams

Axiom

There was a draft that I had started when I fully intended on writing about a week ago.
That draft was only a sentence which to me indicates that the feeling I had never overcame the burden of the act of writing. This feeling is not unique to typing, often times I feel this to an extreme degree with calligraphy, I wonder if this feeling is indicative of the value of the expression.
Is it easier to speak with my mouth because those words are cheaper?
Of course halfway through that I realized how often I type garbage into voids so, maybe it’s only a volume issue, perhaps only handwriting is valuable.

I believe I have come closer to a nexus of myself, a place where my skills and knowledge all seem to intersect, I often struggled with the ideas of myself being an artist. I thought I could only modify, that grew and grew until I became painfully aware that I was, in fact, creating.

That fragile part of myself lodged in the twilight of my life a precious thing that I continue to feed, sometimes I scare myself when I smirk as I win at something. Worried I could grow cocky. So I’ve been feeding my peaceful side too, mandatory tea, mandatory breathing, it’s not quite the void that meditation is but it’s a start. I’ve been listening more, trying to acknowledge my wrongs, good habits, good choices.
I still have a lot that I’m worried about, I’m still not quite free but I’m learning, I’m growing and every day who I am is something that just makes sense.

Things won’t be this easy forever, I know that, I know that where I am now, is the same as where I was before.
I was there, now I’m here.
I took steps into the unknown and explored the world.
As the world grew so did I
I grew right?
Right?
I think I stayed small and the world seemed that way but in reality, I stayed the same and only realized that I undervalued the sheer mass of this world.
I’ve gained something precious within myself, something that comes from not one part of me but everything. A manifestation of the me-isms that never could prosper, this idea of filling the gaps. You remember right diary? I used to despise my desire to fix, because I fixed the wrong things, I never understood that my steps forward were sometimes backward.
I never realized taking time sometimes meant moving forward.

Diary

A Breath

Consider this an interlude

I made a solid breakthrough. Finally, a long time coming. The last few weeks I’ve been on an alternate path. Expressing myself in the tangible, focusing on something that wasn’t my focus. I reached my maximum capacity for projects, felt that challenging spark and overcame.

A real win.

A statement that I have echoed time after time, solid progress something to be happy about and I got it. Finally after so long I feel like I can focus on myself again.

Yesterday I took a real bath with real aromas and for the first time in so long didn’t have to think. Clarity.

Time to take over again, be happy yknow? I just had to prove myself to something more than myself, fresh perspective, fresh smile. Put the bim back in bimbo. I feel so invigorated. I feel like I learned something real and tangible, like my hobbies can intersect and make sense. I have real worries but I can’t drift towards them until necessary. I’m creating, tweaking and hammering my way through new ventures. I’m really proving myself wrong and as long as that stays true I know I’ll be on my path. I’ll keep following rabbits and stay true.

Time to pull a hand out of rubble.

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Self Fulfilling Prophecies

Hey Diary,
Right now you’re just about the only person I want to talk about this with but man I’m really fucking going through it, everything should be fine but it’s not and I can’t help but be angry for it. I have no release, I feel angry, I have unresolved emotions and want to lash out but i cage myself so I don’t get into a fight. A normal person would just sob, but I can’t.
I’ll scale back, zoom out if I can and talk about what exactly I’m doing.
I cheat myself by not taking things seriously, I get aware of the fact that I am not perfect through my own observation or someone elses. Then I give up, don’t try and then chalk it up as a proof that I am incapable. This escape offers me the ability to just, continually self-destruct.
I have a lack of faith in myself. I don’t trust others, but that’s likely so I can fail, to not trust myself.
So, what do I crave, the validation of others or the validation of myself. Of course, I can do more, of course I haven’t tried, of course dying is easier. Dying is always easier. If I pull punches, I get to be sad when my punches don’t land and instead stay in la-la land.
I’ve been collapsing like this on myself, over and over. Maybe I haven’t earned a good cry, maybe I have. but it’s good to get this on paper. I can’t give up, giving up would be the dumbest thing I ever did.

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scrapped post, Jan 2023

Hi Diary,
Suppose I’m probably overdue.
I usually was doing pretty good at being on-track, once a month vents here kinda made sense, actually I think I was at my best when it was once every two weeks. It’s been cold lately. Really cold. This is probably the coldest I’ve ever felt living here. While I do enjoy a cold snap I guess my emotional levels regarding the affair are just completely well, flatlined. It feels like lately I can’t exactly express myself the same way. I’ve built up this level of socialization that means that sappy poetry and double-speak don’t exactly belong. A new year yeah? A new year for me to grow and be better. to study to exercise and clear my head. Personally I feel absolute anxiety. I’m anxious about surgery, anxious about making friends, about stability. So so anxious. Fought so hard for this stupid surgery, so fucking hard. Bloodwork, getting examined mentally, oh the fucking gates i’ve jumped. Now that I have a date? Feels pointless, feels like I don’t even want it. Future me wants I guess an honest try, to not make excuses to not let myself down. To work towards this. I’m sure that’s what future me wants. back to not crying. I’m probably honestly completely overfilled, with anger and misery and bitter resentment. feelings of guilt for feelings of jealousy. Probably feelings of being alone. Wow this sucks. I can’t even focus on my writing.

Art

Bodies on the beach

With her last breath she lifted the body up onto the bleached rocks.

Her scarred ghost-white body making a light smack as it hit the sand. She had known that it was going on for too long, that the wounds were lethal. Even still, she wanted it to end this way, she wanted her last act to be for something, even to just save another. Deep down, she felt she was undeserving of her chassis. That her body was a curse more than a blessing.

Perhaps if she had thought more about it she would’ve realized that dying here would mean less people to impact before she left. Perhaps her proper lesson should’ve been selfishness to preserve her nature. Her spread would widen, the web growing with each action. As it stood, the time for analysis was long since past. She was long gone.

Diary

3/1/2023 Afraid of the Night Sky

Hey Diary,
Sorry this entry’s dour, so shortly after the last one too.
Honestly, it’s just that I’m so, down, and up, and up.
Seems like even my gas lasts only a few days to just stay in one version of myself, kinda can’t help but think I’m falling apart at the seams. I wish I could get a grip and get a handle on myself but I’m so angry, so frustrated, so doomy. It’s the fucking everything that makes up every nightmare that days seem to be.
I keep letting myself down, letting weekends go by, poisoning my own wells, not pushing through this malaise for something greater.

My tarot deck says that risk is bad right now but, inaction is death in this regard. Do I have it the worst? Likely not, but that’s not practical nor does it matter. So, I’ll taper risk in the obvious areas, the places where I’m fucking up, and crank the amps on this circuit to something I want, something I desire. I miss working out, yoga, God the past few weeks have felt like forever. I wish I could say I could even appreciate what all this was for, but the hormonal whiplash utterly sucks cocks. Maybe I gotta burn some shit down, build up from anew. I’m a sucker for phoenixes, a massive one. Imagine if they were real.
(Just now clicking that they might actually exist *in people*……fuck)

Am I close to something here? Is this shit all just beyond my veil of comprehension? Is this concert an opportunity to reignite my flame? forge a connection? fuck if I know diary.
So pissed about the art thing, so tired of the visuals clicking and the majestic mystery being replaced by “wow that looks like utter shit” guess it looked less bad than last time but honestly, I find my sketches more soulful, I’m always freer when I can just fill something.
I’ve been quitting on myself. Maybe I’ve been running away too, yeah, I’ve been running away.

I’ve talked about flow before yeah? It’s this theory that a person can…. attain a state of being something akin to water, flow is, really my personal home it’s where everything stops being noisy and I can bite into something warm, something fulfilling, not quite sure where Buddhism may fit into my personal religious hodgepodge but if it is Buddhist, it’s been quite welcome in my life.
Something about writing this garbage word vomit always makes me feel better.

For some reason putting all my strange and absolute brain-blended feelings and emotions out there just makes it all flow out. I often wonder, if I had used this as an outlet earlier in life if I would’ve repressed as much as I did or gotten my amnesia but getting a kid to take meds was a feat enough regardless of whether I needed them or not. I have been quitting on myself because I’m afraid of getting my hand burned, I don’t want to face failure or less than stellar results, I don’t want to face the results that I feel I know will occur.

So I run, I give up, I stop making progress, I cheat and that pain is easier. Fucking idiot, that’s not the me I fought for. Bad habits die hardest, I can do better, there is no monster under my bed, there is no demon here to chastise me and I will never be called weird again. (Unless I want to be)
Ace of swords is, supposed to be a good card, the only one I didn’t pull that wasn’t inverted, the only one that felt anything but cautious.

So yeah, I’ll temper myself, I’ll refocus I’ll come back into my own and stop covering my head with the sleeping bag, I’ll gaze at the stars and reject my fear of the darkness in the night sky.

Diary

Diary 2/16/23

Hi diary, guess it’s about that time yeah? I’ve been told I should write this week, to take time to do something I want. It’s all falling apart, it all feels fucked and I’m so frustrated, I’m so angry, I’m so irritable the more I speak the less I feel the rawness and it just ebbs and radiates from me. I am really trying to convince myself that I’m wrong, that I’m not fucked, but it keeps coming back and I keep getting kicked when I’m down. I don’t want to spend another year on this. A year, can you believe it? A whole 12 months. I just want things to be okay. I am tired of being sad, I am tired of being surrounded by ghosts, being unable to cry. I don’t know why I won’t let it out, I know it’s me. I know it’s just me being afraid to cry.

Funny how a single screw can be the straw that turns blue days sour. I just don’t want all this to be for nothing diary, I’m tired of the soft rejection and I want a win that I can control. I probably am tired too.

Diary

The Big Bang

Ultimately the irony doesn’t escape me.

I think now is the point when I’ve felt like I’m able to control things more. For such a long time I was tied to the notions that I reacted to stimuli, rather than control my self. I think I did this because of fear and also because I could always point to it as evidence of me not failing, can’t fail unless you try right? If anything has to be said, it’s that I want to be better and do better. I’ve moved past the guilt of most of my actions, atoning for them by moving on, forgiving my younger self. I think my art is getting better and, I think that now it’s mostly for me. Though I do ride the occasional jealousy demons back, its certainly not as invited. I’m also practicing radical honesty, discarding my opinions defenses on fragile basis’ saying what I actually think instead. To err is to be human, so it is that humans are hypocrites in some form, why not own it.

Preparing for this has been such a mental ordeal, an ouroboros and rats nest of paperwork, labs, meds, homebrew concoctions, scheduling, evaluations. As I stand at this gate I must ask myself, is this what I want, what I need, or is this the process being seeming more than what it is.

I don’t think I need this, to most people now I am what I am by default, in this way I now am truly learning what it is to be and not be.

I wonder, how far I could have gone on my own, unaided. For so long my inaction felt created or destroyed by the molecules in my veins but now having gone through a downcycle and upcycle far surpassing my previous output I can clearly see. It’s me. I care because I care. I am doing this for me.

The questions of this being a bad choice are long gone now, as the tests confirmed my hoped and unwanted fear. It is fun to be me, I just hope other people see it and understand it. I hope they understand that if I make it through this, the meshing of identities will naturally take root, as the walls coalesce into their own.

I hope, I hope that I like these results. Because, this is a want, one that I had to fight for so strongly.

Art

Diary – The Promises we forgot 11/6/2022

Hi Diary,
Frankly, I just don’t know where I want to go with this writing today. Usually I don’t, I just know that you’re kind of my like….you’re the place I go when everything is fucked or everything is okay. I’m not okay diary. I’m really really not, It’s all a brain stew of problems and I was so close I was so close to sorting through some deeper trauma before of course, inevitably the popgoestheweasel of my fucking life cropped up.
I haven’t been eating.
I’m sorry, I know I should I KNOW I should but everything in my head is just that stupid static. I’ve been good, yknow? I’ve been well. but then everything I knew got fucked. I can’t talk about it with anyone but you because I don’t want to.
I’m tired of fileting myself to try and convey any of this, to people who no fault of their own are unavailable when it’s raw. Always unavailable. I try really hard diary to listen to others, I do. I used to think that maybe all this was something wrong with me. That maybe I was actually a bad shoulder I forgave myself, I grew up past it.
Once I saw that I wasn’t the problem it hurt. There is nothing in this world that harms me more than seeing how everyone is nakedly. I promised myself I’d start to be honest, to speak plainly, to restrict myself from acting on sudden impulses and urges. I’ve done well, no stalking, no sniping, no actions.
I said my piece then stepped away. It’s that Silent Hill 3 track, “letter”, just started playing. I bet if i took the total time spent listening to that track I’d have beaten that game! I’m just trying yknow? but everyone’s left, or in the process of leaving, always in that twilight of leaving. The security I feel in others needs reaffirming always, that may be on me, but being forgotten is real. Vengeance is bad. We know this. Right, the problems, sorry um.
I got a pretty bad letter, essentially life-wrecking, you know diary but I won’t spell it out. So I had to spend maybe, 4 hours on the phone with various family members, telling the same story, asking for help, getting chastised and finger wagged. Coming to terms with being fucked. The last phone call was a party popper, a poof of “silly! this problem doesn’t really exist! We wouldn’t do that! This problem doesn’t exist and actually you suffering was for nothing! NOTHING!” I feel like my face fell off.
I still do. The shame and utter self hatred I feel is so …. it radiates diary, it throbs. Like a fucking ulcer but in my liver. So I did what any stupid tinkerer girl would and took a bubble bath with mixed drinks and several hours later my head was spinning on the couch as I tried desperately to sleep.
Sounds awful right?
It was.
Emily’s better, took me like 300 bucks to get her done but she’s done. Maybe I never mentioned this but I couldn’t get it to go over 65 mph, now it runs great! I haven’t even touched 6th gear once yet! I kinda am too scared to. but it’s melancholic right? I mean now, the projects done. A done project is an end. Maybe I should let her be, should probably take similar advice.
I’m off E.
I know, I know, “what the fuck? You just found stability and had a ratio and everything!” but basically, I want to try and…save what I can diary. You understand, in a few months I won’t be able to go back, so like all good climbers I will have a safety net, if in months time I can’t do the deed then it’s already too late and I’ll accept that. I will close my book and thus my generational tree branch will be all there is. Just a few months, besides I doubt me stabbing myself would be something pleasant to add on top of all this.

Everything else is likely a result of it, the disinterest in music, the urge to shut up like a telescope, only eating dinner, the lack of daydreaming, inability to go past sketches.
The bad: Psyches in shambles, what’s new.
The good: False alarms are better than bad news, I ride my motorcycle every day and I don’t notice any flaws with it (I kinda have my eye on a jacket, yknow the one),I went out and had fun for Halloween.
The best: I feel a lot better having written this, even a lil’ hungry.
I hope you like the sketches.

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Tomie, my Schrodinger spider! 10/13/2022

Sometimes life plays funny tricks on us huh?

This one’s a long-time coming.
Hello Diary! It’s been a while yeah? Two months, and a lots happened.
Tomie, my spider? Not exactly dead, but you know that. I wasn’t sure, when I saw the molt, her container was empty, I was really depressed, honestly, the whole week was ruined. The stress, the anxiety, fear, general state of things and then boom, there goes my friend.
It really wrecked me, days went by, therapy came up, getting dressed 10 minutes before, slide my large mirror closet and BOOM there she is! Alive! Happy! Somehow some way my murderer escaped her enclosure leaving behind her molt to convince me of her demise. Stupid of her honestly, I don’t know how she lasted, how she didn’t get pancaked when I slid the mirror.
Though I have no shame in being outsmarted by an arthropod, I should’ve understood that a corpse being wrapped up in webbing is…bizarre. I had never seen a spider corpse before either, now I know. I was able to finally clean her enclosure, gave her so much love and care, she even has a new lid and is always within my periphery. I hope she likes it.
I’ve been hard at work, updating the site, making it mine, doing my best in every way. (Except Japanese, Japanese is so FAR BEHIND) We’re almost halfway through Inktober and I think I’m doing very well! Riding my motorcycle, taking good care of myself, cleaning up everything so well, more makeup, more learning, I finally finally have my consultations scheduled! 18th and 25th! Wow, that’s almost a week away! How time flies. I’m glad this entries finally done, you have no idea how long it’s been in progress.