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alright. i'm drinking a coffee right now even though the last time i had coffee (three years ago now!) i had what i can only describe as my first ever anxiety attack? but it's okay. i hope it rots my teeth and stains them yellow (maybe switch those two around). milk also makes me shit hard, so i'm truly destroying myself right now. but anyway. i'm thinking of taking down all the writing i have currently up on this website. a person i met at my new school shared with me a link to neocities, and said that this is where you can go to "read websites made my schizos" and yeah, that's just who they are, and i'm not very good at remembering that other people are also real and not just "danger danger keep hidden on guard stay alert" so i couldn't make myself react at all (dissociation brain goes blank and suddenly i hate every part of myself). and i guess there are some pretty wild sites on here. but. i am much more conscious of the fact that i am a little curly in the brain and my wrinkles don't quite match up and so possibly maybe probably i know i should just delete everything and start over. once i have a proper destination for this website. this coffee is grossly sweet. i have so many plans and ideas, although i can't ever bring myself to go out and do them. i think that's normal; everyone gets that at least once in their life. but that doesn't make it any less of a horrible feeling; i mean, i'm still wishing that i was somebody else. all the time, whoever i see, i don't care who it is and sometimes it's the narcissistic cryptocurrency boys in my class who kick their feet up on the desk or a seventy y.o. trump supporter or the "popular" girl who plays tennis and has friends (because at least, however horrible a person may be, if they are true to themselves then they are happy, and i want to be like that!) and sometimes things go really scarily wrong with my brain and whenever somebody insults me or tells me that they literally don't care about my interests, i get so happy oh my god i love it when people insult me it makes me feel so normal like, yes, yes, you agree with me that i'm useless & that everything i do is either cringe or stupid, and that i'm not allowed to be serious because nobody can take me seriously, so that connects us and now we can both insult me all the time! if i'm good at anything, it's hating myself (and masturbating, but i'm not gonna start selling videos of myself just yet. check back for my onlyfans eheh)—but then in the back of my head, insistently shoving at this masochistic part of me, is screaming that that is so wrong, it's so wrong, what is wrong with me, i'm not meant to feel like that, literally i won't be able to survive out in the real world if i'm always seeking out people who will treat me like a punching bag (i'm not going to become a slave to idiots, that's not who i am), but then this other part of my brain (the very wrinkly part) asks me how on earth i'm meant to even do that because maybe, because of the bad experiences i've had that have made me this way, there is nothing i can do. i'm stuck like this. i don't think it's reversable. and now i am getting scared, because i've been ruined, and maybe my entire life will be me trying to please people, like it always has been, and i wonder why the hell i feel younger the older my physical body gets, it's as if i just wasn't meant to be here at all and i'm aging backwards, and i wish that i could revert back into the person i was when i was 10 years old because i had to be such an adult back then, but now i have aboslutely no purpose in life and everything is a struggle and every morning i tell myself that i just need to survive—that's the bare minimum. just survive. even though i'd quite like to die, i know that my luck isn't gonna be so good, so the least i can do is just keep my brain safe. keep my mind safe and protected. stay alone. always alone. it's nice to be alone. if i'm such a difficult person to be around because i have the inability to talk, then it is much better to be alone. that way i don't have to worry about my throat closing up, or about how my brain goes blank and i dissociate the second my new friend talks to me, and in conclusion i really really hate myself and i wish that i could be an observer to life, not whatever it is that i am right now, because then i'd have a defined, divine purpose. but i don't.

well, anyway. i finished my coffee. my teeth feel... fuzzy. dirty. like if i scraped them, my bitten stubs of nails would come away full of grime. but. alas. no matter how much i talk about these things, i don't think it does any good—in fact, if anything, i think it's making me worse. but i won't get into that now. i'm not sure whether to fully explore the depths of my brain or to simply ignore myself until i become numb to emotion altogether, or maybe just don't take things to extremes and enjoy the moment. but anyway! i want to do so much on this website. i want to have an "about me" page, where i talk about myself and all the dirty things that go on in my head, and how confusing personalities are; i also want to draw my characters and my dream environments on a real tablet with a real digital pencil, but money says no. i want to write my stories! i want to make it real. i want to make something that means something, and i want to make something that answers a question, because i want to answer a question, i want to answer the question, i want to know who i am and what the universe is. i want to know everything. and sometimes. sometimes things feel right. sometimes, i'll be lying in bed, my blanket drawn up to my chin, arms by my sides—sometimes it'll happen when i'm in my mother's car, or sometimes when i'm crying on an isolated bush trail telling myself that i'm ready to die—and suddenly, like one of those glittering golden curtains of beads is being drawn over my body, the entire world just falls into place. it happens spontaneously. like a never-ending game of tetris, one where all the pieces automatically drop into their perfect places, and i don't have to do anything. nothing at all. because the universe is perfect the way it is. our organs all fit together, our tendons and muscles and bones work together and the world spawned us looking the way we do because that's how it was meant to be from the very start. i think of the colour pink. my heart feels warm. i just start smiling so hard and usually i'd start crying, but i don't. because everything is just fine. everything is alright. i'm so alone in the universe even with all these perfectly crafted beings around me, but there's nowhere better to be than here. there's nobody better to be, than me. i observe life. i'm playing my part. i can see everything. i understand.

well if i come back in a few days with a completely new aesthetic/vibe for this website, then just know that it occured some time after the 14th of may 2022 and that i probably have not felt any true joy since the 14th of october 2020, and that i am still trying to convince myself that joy is not superficial, and that when i feel happy, it is not fake.. i'm allowed to enjoy it. everybody is allowed to be happy. happiness isn't superficial and it doesn't make you stupid. you're happy. i'm happy.

why are you still here? go and live, asshole. your heart is beating! it's doing such a good job, too! i can't believe i feel so alive! like i'm in love with something that i've never even seen, but i know what it is! how many times in my life will i ever understand something to this level? how many times will i ever be the spider on this web. how long will it last? how long do i have? and dear god, when will this heavy weight—like i'm always carrying the bodies of my past selves, always stacking up with every transformation i go through—fall off of my shoulders?