1.27.2026 First blog post. Just going to start with an idea I had. It sprung itself on to me earlier today on my walk. It was about privacy and danger. In a world so connected, privacy feels like a luxury. It also feels like a form of self-preservation. Of survival. We're swallowing the www.whole-wide-world. We're constantly being inundated with graphic images/videos/news of the most horrific crimes against humanity, against nature. It's awful. It's constant. It refuses to stop. Where was I? When I think about prey, (as a vegan, I'll be honest - I rarely do!) I think about the few tools they have for survival. The one I'll be discussing now is "hiding." It's very effective. There are many ways to go about "hiding." One could vanish completely, go off the grid, but what fun is that? For a human, what does existence mean without an audience? Why does it hurt when we don't feel seen? If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? That sort of thing. Of course, it does to some degree. Nature is always around. God's always watching - one way or another. Rather, we're always watching, that is. Speaking of God, even He hid! On the 8th day, he vanished. When he came back as a human being, he was killed. For being seen. His visibility was a threat. He didn't hide his humanity, but where is He now? Seeing what horrors go on in the world in 4k, I don't blame anyone for losing faith. I don't blame Him for hiding. Why do we do it to ourselves? Sometimes, it feels like we're all God in hiding. Like this whole consciousness thing is set up by each and every one of us. Lik we're all coordinating reality. We can feel ourselves generating everything in our reality field. But then, why danger? Why is it not safe? Not safe...yet?
1.28.2026 Why is it so miserable to look for work? I don't want to participate in capitalism. I want to reclaim my time from either meaningless labor or people who don't value my work. I'm the kind of person who sets invisible boundaries. I just assume people know not to cross a certain line. It's a line I would never cross myself. When they inevitably cross it, I get upset with them, even though, maybe, they're not to blame. Certainly not entirely to blame. But still. It's inconceivable to me that people forget all the work I've done, how often I've bent over backwards to please them, because that's the kind of person I am. An insecure middle-child. Maybe, it was how I learned to receive love. Maybe, it was how I learned to avoid conflict. Whatever the diagnosis, I'm off it now. It's happened way too many times. It's seared a hole in my heart, and now it's too uncomfortable to mend. It's the new lesson I need to learn. The hole's been replaced by a chip on my shoulder. I know I sound bitter, and partly, I am - but the truth is I've actually just grown impatient. I don't have the time anymore. I don't have the willpower anymore. I feel like I'm losing energy to perform politeness and to assist other people in their particular vision for the future. Of course, I'm still all for it. Go nuts. I'm just personally at a stage now where I just want to be left alone. I'm stuck, though. I need an income to make a living. To eat, to share an apartment with my girlfriend, to get my teeth cleaned, to get my eyes checked, to get a physical. The basic necessities of life. If I want to visit family hundreds of miles away I'll need a car (costs money), gas (costs money), insurance (costs money), and more money (costs time) incase something goes wrong like when my window regulator broke just a couple of weeks ago. It's a miracle that the glass in my driver seat window didn't shatter into a hundred million pieces. I'm stripping my life down to its barest bones and still it costs me time and money just to survive. What happens when I get tired of surviving? Every living thing deserves to thrive. Every living thing is owed an existence of happiness in my book - for the majority of their existence, at least. Or else, what's the point? I know life has its ups and downs. But truly, it is exhausting to try and find a job. Jobs either feel devoid of any real social utility or they sound fun but preserve capitalism. Is there even a business model (that is profitable) that doesn't preserve capitalism? That actively works against it? Feels like a Catch-22. I know there are non-profit jobs and government jobs - like working for the library - that are probably inherently socialist. But then again, one can always make a counterargument. Everyone using the library - a public good - still has to operate and survive under capitalism. The knowledge they acquire in the library won't always be anti-captialist knowledge. In fact, it's more likely whatever knowledge they acquire from the public library will be applied in private markets that will extract profits from its consumers and reinforce capitalism. It is a Catch-22. What is the point of knowledge if it cannot be applied and what is the likelihood people are applying it outside of the market? Skills can offer you a higher salary, benefits, a job with a little less alienation. Who is in a position not to take that? Who wouldn't want to take that? Besides me, of course. >.< I just want to do what I want. Even nurses, who are helping people genuinely get healthy, incidentally also help them get back to work faster. I know that sounds ridiculous... and it is. But it's still true. "So you want people to stay sick?" Of course not, dummy. I'm a vegan communist. I'm want everyone to be happy, healthy, safe, cared for, and I want them to have everything their hearts desire and more (so long as it doesn't infringe on anyone else's right to all those things). I want the Earth to get a break, for our species not to overshoot our planetary boundaries, I want whimsy and music and art and fashion and pastries so sweet you'd shoot your grandma in the ass just to get another bite (with a love dart, stoopid. ପ(੭ ´ᵕ`)੭°• જ⁀➴)
1.28.2026 continued. So again, I'm not looking for flawless logic here, but I just want to know what to do with my time. I started a clothing brand before I knew all of the problems that plauged the fashion industry. It was during the Golden Age of streetwear, and the entire process was glorious to me. None of it felt like work. Everything felt like play. I want to go back there, but it's no longer the same. I no longer live in that field of reality. Climate change is already here and it's going to get worse. Make an eco-friendly brand. What does that even mean? Isn't the most eco-friendly brand, no brand? In the midst of a genocide, it feels absurd to market T-shirts when all I'm consuming is reality horror. Sidepoint: After you eat enough medjool dates, and learn about fiber and natural sugars, refined sugar isn't all that interesting anymore. I'm off that diet now. Am I to return to the time I didn't know about fashion's impact on the planet? And metaphorically go back to refined sugar? The only reason I'd want to go back now is to experience the game play - all of the internal forms of excitement, development, and pleasure I derived from it. But it might be too big an ecological cost. And let's not forget Wolfe. He said, "You Cannot Go Home Again?" Should I listen? What if you made "conscious" clothing? Again, what is that? I've only seen it done in a tacky way, and truthfully it feels a bit performative to me. Maybe, I'm just performing cynicism. *Sorry to everyone making "conscious" clothing. What if you made eco-friendly clothes? I suppose that is a real possibility. Upcycling clothes and what not. The fashion industry does need a revolution, and I'm not a pessimist there. If someone finds an easy way to using existing clothes, it would be highly profitable. Like the "thrift/vintage" scene. Capital would quickly adopt it. But again... does all that still reproduce captialism? Would it even be profitable enough to live on? Can I compete in a market of fast-fashion slop and sweatshop labor conditions as the norm? Isn't profitability the central problem we're looking to fix? Should I just start an opposition party? What if I don't even know where to start? How will I survive financially? Should I stop thinking and just try? Maybe, I'll surprise myself? Maybe, life will? Maybe, I need to find out?
1.29.2026 Would you rather have 1 problem or 99? "If you're havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son!" Jay raps over a beat entirely made of Rick Rubin selected samples. I think the whole beat is like three samples. Anyway, I digress. I'll admit, it's an overused line. Definitely misogynistic - "99 problems but a bitch ain't one?" How awful are your relationships with women, Jay? Because, today, even though I had a BBQ sized beef with my girlfriend, it went splendidly. I wasn't too upset or anything, I didn't get really angry (sometimes I lose my cool a bit - never ever EVER physically, just audibly. I start to raise my voice and if I'm not conscious of it I'll start yelling.) I feel the need to clarify this even though I know there isn't a soul other than myself reading this, but I want to make it clear that in the rare instances it did happen, I still wasn't yelling at her. I hope that doesn't sound like I'm trying to excuse the behavior either, I know I'm an adult and can communicate calmly - literally, I do it now lol - but it's just that the rare times I did do that it was just me getting louder and louder repeating my point because I felt like I wasn't being heard. It was never intentionally disrespectful (no name calling, no expletives, nothing directed toward her personally) just anger and volume that I probably picked up on in my household or socially or what have you. Is that avoiding responsibility? I'll take full responsibility. The point is that this time, when we spoke over the phone - I know, we're still long distance :( - I calmly expressed my side of the story. I told her that there are times when I feel unheard and that this invisibility feels like my "natural" position in the relationship. I certainly am someone who needs to communicate my needs more, to speak up for myself, to enforce boundaries, but for a long time I didn't. It feels so good to finally start putting my foot down. Heads up, when I say "put my foot down," please remove all the traditionally masculine connotations from the phrase, remove all of its macho baggage, and just imagine someone literally putting their foot down because, and here's the kicker, it's the only way to stand up for yourself. I won't get into all the specifics of my passivity, I won't illustrate for you all the ways in which it manifests behaviorally, because tbh its permutations are not that important - you get the idea. I can't speak for my girlfriend, so I won't, but she seems to be much better at that sort of thing. Besides, it's not even her fault I feel that way. Only I can enforce my boundaries. I have to respect my own decisions. I have to respect my own lines. If I don't then can I really blame someone for crossing them? Did I even articulate the line to them? Or is it just some vague ghostly presence, like a mental eye floater, floating around in my mind? If that's the case, and I agree to something I don't want to do, despite showing some hesitancy, that's probably on me. Right? I don't know. I always give people the comfortability to not want to do something - so, I deserve that too. Consent is supposed to be an enthusiastic "yes," not a lukewarm "okay." And thankfully, we all understand that. But when it comes to a trip, or a job, or any of these other ambiguously expensive/exhausting/time consuming experiences, consent seems to go out the window. You're just, sort of, expected to do the thing. But I don't want to! And at this point in my life, I think I'm going to try honoring that un-want. Instead, I'll just be doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. The caveat of course being: "to the extent that it's possible." But hey, that's a start. And it's only taken one revelation plus a couple of maybe-honorings later, for me to already start feeling better. Maybe someday, I'll get even closer and closer - so close that the gap of self-alienation closes entirely!... and I'll be happy everywhere I am. Sounds a little idealistic, sure. But who knows? Maybe, "happy" isn't the right word. Content? I'll be content wherever I am! I won't be living in a panicked state of frenzied anxiety or frenxiety. Is that a word? I'll restore my agency! I'll recoup the "who I was" that I lost, simply by returning to where I always was. And when all the questions dissipate, and when all the confusion and indecision falls by the wayside (because I've finally listened to that little voice I told to stay quiet all this time), I'll finally hear my voice. And if there's any questions left, it'll just be repetitions of: Why didn't we do this earlier? ...hopefully?
2.01.2026 WAKE UP! Wake up! It's the first of the month! But I need to go back to sleep. I'm so tired right now. I didn't sleep very much at all last night, and then to top it off, I had a fight with my girlfriend at 2am. You don't sleep well when it's short and you don't sleep well when your relationship feels like it's hanging from a thread. Remind me why we're doing this again? Her back is turned away from me and everything is silent in the room and my eyes are burning and the fan is spinning and somehow my head is spinning even faster. Oh, and then there's always that one thought that feels like a lit match to a gasoline line except like I said it's just a thought swimming among the amyloid that should have been flushed away already - would've been flushed away if not for the lack of sleep. But it's too late, no pun intended. You're not getting any sleep. We had to be out of the house by 8am because her and her little sister had planned a sister date with their friends who bailed and now guess who's filling the vacancy? See the reason all of that is upsetting when on the surface it sounds like a grand old time, and if you're thinking "how could anyone object to such an excitable experience?" - just know that I agree wholeheartedly, except for the fact that I had already made plans plus I had to catch up on work AND the list goes on. At first, my girlfriend was upset because I told her I would be visiting on Friday when she thought I would be coming on Thursday. While it's true that we had agreed for Thursday prior, due to family/work/cleaning responsibilities I had to push it to Friday. She replied with, "Okay that's fine." Looking back, this probably wasn't the smartest thing to do or say in response, but everytime things don't go my girlfriend's way with respect to me she tends to treat me less-than because of it. It's been a recurring theme in our relationship. So, haunted by the memories of past experiences and fueled probably in part by some unresolved childhood trauma I said, "Why wouldn't it be fine? I can only go when I can go." FRRRIIPPP. I sucked the air out of our conversation's glass panel room. The Apple Music stopped playing - the logo on the back of my phone fell off and onto the floor and you could hear it roll over to the corner of my room. I looked back at my screen and the screen light, dim, lit up again with three dots jumping up above my keyboard. She responded, "?? I'm not arguing or saying it to like give my approval/ Why are you so defensive?" And I replied and she replied and so on and so on. She was also angry when I suggested we take the train rather than fly to DC. She has to go for work - Rare Disease Week - and I was just there in September for work, so it made sense that we could go together. But because she didn't want to go by train (possible trip cancellation, it was 2.5 days rather than a six hour flight) my suggestion upset her. Well, she says she was upset because I kept insisting after she said she couldn't do it. But I never insisted, and she later apologized, because all I did following her rejection was Google the prices. To compare them to flights. For me. Keep in mind, her job is paying for everything - I would be going because she asked me to join her. So, if it's on me... I'm looking at the prices. After that, she asked if I could replace her friend in the cancelled sister-date and she got upset when I expressed hesitation. The truth is, I was only hesitant because I had already made plans and had prior work commitments. But also, I didn't even explicitly express hesitation, I said "I'd be down." When she said, "You don't have to go..." I said "Really? I might stay then. I have a lot of stuff to do." And that's when it all came tumbling down. She said she was "frustrated that I was even considering not going," but I found it ridiculous that once again - I had no subjectivity. I had no life of my own in her eyes. While we were awake and arguing into the wee hours of the morning, I mentioned that I felt like it was typical of a dog owner to feel that way. They're so used to their pets being unbridled servants to their every waking need. I think you learn to be a better partner when you have a cat. Because cats do their own thing. You can't force a cat to do anything. You just love your cat for exactly how she is. The arguments kept going. Just before it really took off, you know, the thing that started it all, I was working out in her room. I borrowed a yoga mat and started to do some ab exercises. Half way through the routine, she walked in to give me the bad news. She told me about her best friend flaking on the sister-date, and that she sensed there may have been something more to the cancellation than her friend being "sick." She expressed to me the frustration she feels when friends don't reciprocate the effort she puts into their friendships. "My life is so different," she said. "I can't just reschedule - I can't just spontaneously go out. My life - our lives - revolve around the twins." It made me sad to hear that out loud, though I've known about it for as long as I've known her. My girlfriend has two twin sisters, both with a rare genetic disease called SYNGAP1 and to make a long story short it means her sisters are missing an essential protein in their brains that allow neurons to change shape and store information and communicate with each other effectively and all that. So, they suffer a host of debilitating symptoms like hypotonia, epilepsy, to name a few. They're also quite far on the autism specturm (non-verbal, aggression, intense stimming, etc.) As far as I know, they're not in any kind of pain though. In fact, they're actually a lot of fun to be around - except when it's time to eat. It can be a real power struggle at the table. It's not cute. But they're so cute, though. Anyway, back to the story. I tried to comfort her about this reality and that her friend's cancellation wasn't a reflection of her worth as a friend, but rather her friend's sickness and my girlfriend would respond with "Yes, but I deserve friends who understand me, who see me, who see this," and I continued with my attempts at reassurance and she just ended up looking at her phone and not even paying attention to me. Then, I remembered, that after all this time talking I was still in the middle of my workout and I only stopped for an hour to console her. It was a hurtful thought, but it popped up because she didn't even care what I had to say. I started to get pissed and so I shared the thought and then holy fuck it all went south and I added a bunch of things that were on my mind (stuff I probably mentioned somewhere here befoer) and that I had felt like our relationship hadn't been the same and the room was on fire. Couldn't sleep. Now listen to this. Today, in the car, on our way to the thrift store, I hear her sister ask when the last time was that she went to "_____" concert. My girlfriend was a fan girl of this pop-star and was head over heels in love with him since she was a tween. We've had talks about it. The fan-girling made me uncomfortable. Maybe, I'm a prick? There have been some things she's hidden from me before, but hearing that was kind of striking. First, because I was asleep in the car. Or rather, half-asleep. Awake enough to hear it, let's say that. And second, because she always goes on about how I'm this and that when she doesn't even take an ounce of accountability for her own actions. The fact that she's kept that from me, the fact that she never told me she went, is strange to me. Is it not? Especially after I told her how her obsession dynamic with this guy made me feel. "He's unattainable!" What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What if he was attainable? It reeks of no principles. Like now, you're just negotiating. I hate that. I feel like that's a step too-far. Look, I'm no saint myself, but I'm trying to be. And after I've made my mistakes, I've corrected them. Even if I disagreed with her ways, I still obliged her and continue to do so TO THIS DAY. But the fact that she couldn't even do it for me... the fact that she went behind my back... the fact that all of this comes after her witch-hunt, her dissection, her scathing moral judgement of my soul... is just unbelievable to me. In the car, she said "Umm, I went to "_____" concert with [her cousin's name] but I don't remember when..." yet somehow she knew all the other concert dates they were talking about. I could hear her obfuscating the details - it felt like she knew if there was any chance I was awake, I'd realize something was up about the timeline. After that, there was a sour taste left in my mouth for the rest of the day. I hate getting in that mood. There's just no way to stop it. I like my problems best when they're resolved. I also can't control my behavior past a certain point. So, I start to lose energy. I get drained. I feel like I'm being lied to. My girlfriend is holding my hand but I start to wonder if she means it. I love her so much. Do I? The only way I'll apologize about feeling this way is if I'm just so wrong about everything, if I'm ruining the relationship, if I'm misremembering. If in fact, all this time - she did tell me and I just forgot and always just in need something to stay angry about. Until then, I'll be here... seething or whatever.
2.01.2026 I don't know what I'm doing. What the fuck am I doing? I'm purposefully fanning the flames. I don't want to end my relationship, but I find it very strange that my girlfriend isn't talking to me. So, I'm not talking to her back. We just ate dinner in front of each other without saying a word. It was awkward as fuck. Part of me was hoping she would just say something. I was expecting her to confess what she had said earlier in the car. But, if I'm just imagining all of this... then, bro. I need to see a therapist. It's just strange to me that I would be incorrect about that. I don't know what to say. How do I bring it up to my girlfriend? She's probably like WTF is going on? (If she doesn't really know what upset me.) She apologized to me this morning, but I didn't feel like everything was okay. I'm scared I'm doing something I shouldn't be doing. I'm just hoping that we make something out of this - something good. I don't know how or what I should say or do. She was normal and then I wasn't and now I'm wondering if I'm misremembering. All we do is fight in this relationship. I just want her to ask me if everything is okay. I want her to care. She just doesn't even engage. She looks at her dog and then back and me and then back into space. I don't even know what I feel anymore. I feel like something is wrong. Like I'm making a big deal out of nothing. But how do I know if I'm right? How do I know if I'm wrong? What do I even say to initiate the conversation? All I have are these anxieties - I'm literally typing as soon as the thought enters the mind. My typing speed is giving somewhat of a buffer to these ideas. (I'm not just writing bullshit, I hope!) But this is feeling more and more uncomfortable. I don't think our relationship can last if I keep this up. Sooner or later she's going to get tired. Sooner or later I'm going to get tired. Sooner or later she'll break up with me. Would I ever break up with her? I already broke up with her once. And I regret it. I don't want to break up with her again. In fact, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But I think she's over it. I can tell she's really really upset. I had a wakeful-dream (dreamful-wake?) last night where I wrote a break-up note to her and then left it on her desk right before I left for home. It was so weird. Maybe, it was a thought I had? Maybe, I was inventing the future? I don't want that future, though. I love her. I really do. There is so much we've been through - I feel like we only have the rest of our lives to go and still I want to go more. I could go forever with her. Could I? I hate to leave the whole house feeling this way. Feeling heavy. Barely any talking. I'm sure her sister's picked up on it. She keeps walking to the washing machine. I wonder if she can tell something's up. Like why isn't my sister talking to her boyfriend? But what am I supposed to do? Am I paranoid? Look at the position I'm in. Did I put myself in this position? I desparately need some help. Some advice. Some guidance. A sign. Anything to make it make sense. I have work tomorrow. Early in the morning. I should be doing that, not catastrophizing over my relationship. I feel pathetic. I'm journaling like a teenage boy. Except I'm 28. What the fuck. KalsjdflkajsdlkfjalsfjalkjslfjlkasjfaaaaaaahhhhhHHHHHHH!!!! Send help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
2.01.2026 MM/DD/YYYY Makes no sense. It should be DD/MM/YY, everywhere. I get the inclination to... (12>31>Infinity/Linear time collapses/Time as a phenomenon to be percieved and or recorded gets abandoned) but still. The day is inside of the month which is inside of the year. It funnels. It's fun. It's space-time alphabetically sliced like organized cuts through a complex funnel cake. D comes before M which comes before Y. It's chronological. I love that.
2.02.2026 Today was a good day. I don't know why I've started titling these blog posts after songs, but music has a tendency to fit everything. I imagine there's music, there's lyrics, for everything. Like Ice Cube said, today was a good day. Despite having to wake up extra early to attend a meeting for work - and not having prepared as thoroughly as I probably should have - it was great. It was very productive, and I felt like I contributed to the conversation. We were talking about the current political climate and my boss and her campaign director had a disagreement about the zeitgeist of the 2020s with regard to Trump voters and his re-election. I tried to synthesize the disagreement - I have a tendency to do this as a middle child who is conflict-averse (I need therapy) - but thankfully it went over well. My basic point was that they were splitting hairs (tbh I don't know if that was even the appropriate phrase, I just said it to get them to see that their perspectives were actually much more in agreement than disagreement). My boss said, "Trump voters aren't racist, they're upset with the Democratic party," and her campaign manager said, "I think a lot of people in the United States are pro-fascism." As always, I feel like the truth is some aggregate percentage of all of the above. It's true, not all Trump voters are racist - in fact, many minority groups voted for Trump. I know, it's insane... I personally know a few. The crazy thing is that of the people I know, they're sweethearts - they just have little to no political education. I don't say that to be patronizing, but it's clear as day. Most people don't concern themselves with politics in the States, so there's a steep steep learning curve. It's immediately apparent to anyone with a basic understanding of political ideologies/frameworks as to where they fall on the spectrum. They even have undocumented parents! It's an incredible conundrum. They certainly didn't forsee an exponential increase in I.C.E. arrests/murders etc. Nor are they aware of the mechanics of fascism. But anyway, I'm writing this sentence now (6 days later) from the time I made this post. I don't even remember who or what called me from my desk, but obviously I never returned to it. So, here I am. Writing, retroactively? I don't really feel like writing about this right now, so I'll just end this here. It can stay incomplete.
2.08.2026 Am I depressed? Who hasn't asked themselves this question. Is there a way for the brain to vomit? I don't mean physically - I mean mentally. I need it to purge - I need some kind of cleanse. What is it that makes me feel so burnt out? So sad? The obvious answer is my media diet. The state of the world. Being a leftist. But I don't even know what it is I want. I want the world to be a better place. Of course... everyone does. But why do I want it so badly? Is it some kind of projection - some repressed desire Freud or Jung would say is just an out of reach wish-fulfillment, a carrot I tie to string that keeps me in a hamster wheel of my own making? I don't know if any of this is making sense to anyone. Sometimes I wonder if I only like things that are out of my control because I only know how to chase. I don't know how to just exist without having to do, be, or want anything. I don't know, I don't know. I'm not even feeling lucid while typing this. Usually, it's much easier to spit out what the fuck is on my mind. But lately, I've just been feeling exhausted. I genuinely want to just relax. Sit back and enjoy everything. I'm sitting in a suburb. Why the fuck do i have to make things so hard on myself. Is the world really that shit? Yes. It is. I've seen it with my own eyes. The information I'm being exposed to is so unbelievably awful. So fucking disgusting and grotesque. It makes you just want to use one of those mood organs Philip Dick was writing about. I miss the world of ideas. I really miss that blissful state of anything-is-possible feelings in my body. There was a trip I took with my girlfriend to Joshua Tree, where it was just the two of us. Alone. In the desert. It was so peaceful. It was lonely, but it felt like we had reached the end of the world. I keep thinking I'll reach something. I keep thinking that there is some reachable location where I can finally rest and enjoy everything. Where time stops. Where there's no clock. I don't know what it is that I'm waiting for. I don't want death if that's what this is implying. I don't want that. I love life. I want to love life to it's fullest extent. I want to be able to live out my dreams. To see the world in a color that isn't so grey. Things feel bleak and I can't even enjoy the respites that should be all around me. I'm over everything. I'm over work. I'm over the state of the world. I'm over trying to fix it. I'm so exhausted and I know that sounds insane because do I really deserve to be? There are people who can't just be "over it." There are people who have been in the struggle for so much longer than I have. If anything, I'm new to this. While my heart has always struggled against the sad and ugly reality of the world I am apart of, it's not like I'm volunteering at a soup kitchen everyday. I'm just consuming horrible news and trying to share ideas that make sense of it and address problems with a sober analysis and shape myself little by little into an ally or 3D implementor of the solution. But I miss when life wasn't about fixing something broken. I miss when life was just life. And I was just in it. I watched the movie Mrs. Doubtfire with my girlfriend and I found myself feeling envious of the fictional world I was seeing on screen. It was a typical 90s picture in beautiful San Francisco - a family, a lovely house, a working mother and an unemployed father. Even with his antics, with his divorce, with his ostensible instability, he was able to afford an apartment. His family was his focus. His whole life. All that mattered to him was exactly what he was doing and where he was doing it. You get the sense from watching the film that this "presence" was literal. I know there were coups happening. I know there were wars happening. And famines. And murders. And everything horrible that you could possibly have thought of. But this movie didn't show that. As a viewer, I escaped that for the two hours I was consumed with the characters and their lives. I mean, it's hard to believe, but technically it sounds like I'm asking for delusion. I'm asking to swallow the blue pill after already having swallowed the red pill and not liking it. Is that what I'm doing? Do I really even mean that? I don't know. It seems like I just need to puke out all of these words to rid myself or to temporarily cure myself of this neurosis. It's so exhausting. I was telling my girlfriend that I fantasize sometimes about going to some small obscure town, disconnecting from the internet, and just disengaging with modern life and capitalism. Sometimes, I just want to unplug, work at a library, and go home to drink some soda and play boardgames. I want to go for a walk. I want all of these things that don't require tethering my mind, my emotions, my energetic state of being, my existence, my entirety, to these awful material realities. I don't like feeling like i have to do anything. I seek freedom from everything. Of course, I will always stand for justice - I will never ever EVER as long as an iota of my soul exists on this plane, I will not want to be complicit in any suffering any evil anything that isn't in service of or respecting others and their freedoms and the collective liberation of all things. I'm just saying something is binding me to these causes that I can't necessarily shake. And maybe it's not that I even want to shake it. At the end of the day, I don't want to be checked out. I don't want to contribute to evil. I want to actively uphold goodness. Uphold universal morality. Uphold justice. Uphold everything that aligns with everyone's best interest. With what God wants for all of us. Caring, loving, respecting, uplifting, one another. Heaven. I do want that for everyone and everything. I sincerely do. I also want that for me. I want to be able to do the things that make me happy. That move me. That don't leave me feeling exhausted. That don't leave me questioning what the purpose of life is. What the purpose of studying theory and consuming the worst news imaginable. The most horrific images and scenes. I don't want that. I want Palestine to be free. I want the Congo to be free. I want Sudan to be free. I want people to enjoy the life they had in mind for themselves. I want them to enjoy the past, the present, and the future. Can we even enjoy it ever again? The past is the present is the future and all of this ugly shit has already happened. What role have I played in this? Am i connected to the tainted everlast-ment? Can i take whatever I did wrong back? I don't want to be a part of it. I want to be free of whatever is causing me strife. I want to make God proud. I also want to thoroughly enjoy this experience. Those have to be the same thing. But what is the process of doing this? Where do I even begin...
3.05.2026 Dialectics! It's been a while. Things have been quite busy for me. I just recently got back from a trip to DC with my girlfriend - I was supposed to be out there for work, but then a blizzard hit, so my boss stayed home and the trip ended up being a somewhat expensive vacation. I also stayed in San Francisco with my girlfriend for a couple of days following our return from DC, so it's been an eventful couple of weeks. I can't really speak to why it has taken me almost a month to update the blog, but nevertheless here we are. The reason I wanted to write today was because an idea dawned on me that I hadn't considered before. If dialectics/historical materialism bring us closer to understanding reality - I wonder if it can also bring us closer to understanding myth, and its place in reality. Consider the opposing forces that create contradiction - which are then hopefully resolved, bringing about a novel synthesis. Besides explaining a genesis, it may also explain Genesis in the Bible. In the beginning, there was darkness. And then God said, "let there be light," and there was light. Creation is the synthesis of contradiction. Nothingness brings itself into somethingness - as being nothing is still being something. The awareness of its existence, means it was real before it happened, and thus seen, and in being seen, it therefore realizes itself. I hope this isn't too heady. I hope I'm even making sense. Because even I am having a hard time following. But it feels right, so let's continue. God, who is all-knowing, in order to give us life, in order to give us consciousness, put the tree of knowledge of good and evil in the Garden of Eden, and specifically told Adam and Eve NOT to eat the fruit of that tree. As someone who is all-knowing, it's quite clear he did that intentionally. Considering the mind works in such ways, if you tell a child not to do something, they will do it. It's like me asking you not to think about an elephant. By the very instruction, I've already made you do it. Besides, if he wanted humanity to have freedom, he had to instruct them to disobey him, as that is the only way one can have freedom. How can you have freedom if you are not free to disobey? Once again, I think that contradiction - the instruction not to do such a thing - was the elixir to life. It wasn't even harmful. It was about eating an apple. It was the synthesis of the contradiction. Now, I want to clarify that this isn't an argument to do what is wrong, or to disobey blindly, or any of these things. Eating an apple isn't going to hurt or harm anything... I hope. I'm also not a religious scholar - tbh I'm not a scholar of any kind. I'm just thinking out loud. So again, I want it to be clear that I am not advocating to act in the interest of evil to bring about some novelty. But rather, to understand the contradictions so as to move toward good. Maybe, the history of the spiritual universe is starting from Heaven, descending into Hell, and then climbing towards Heaven again and then repeating the process infinitely? Samsara? Or, we are refining the universe. Our business is to go everywhere and take it from chaos into order. Is that the work of life? The moral work? Because I think from a physics standpoint, the universe becomes more and more chaotic over time. Again, who really knows. Just a thought I had.
3.07.2026 Idea. We need to kill money.
3.08.2026 How To: Worship Habits are interesting things. They're hard to start, progressively easier to keep, and extremely easy to break. I don't want to speak for everyone, but this is certainly the case for me. Anyway, people have a habit of going to church every Sunday. We do so to be in community, to praise God. I sometimes wonder, as a materialist, how we could harness all the energy - the revolutionary potential - of these churchgoers. If the priest converted the church into a soup kitchen on any given Sunday, and the process of communion was instead to get into line and serve the less fortunate... what do you think would happen? I'd argue that with every church around the world, every temple, every mosque - we could heal the whole world for a night. Imagine that. I know all of this is possible, it's just missing the organizational infrastructure. And sure, maybe a radical shift in consciousness and in empathy would be needed - and of course, there would still be problems, I use the phrase "heal the whole world for a night" only as a manner of speaking, but what I'm trying to say is it would still do a tremoundous amount of good. What if we praised God that way? The way it seems He, or She, or They, or It, or Nature, or We, intended.
3.08.2026 continued. Sometimes, I wonder (and I'm not sure if I've spoken about this before... I seem to wonder about a lot of things) why I feel my mind constantly pulled in this direction. It's kind of a direction of extremes. I feel like I've gone to one corner and then to the other and then another and so forth and hopefully I'll keep going, exploring, discovering, growing. There does seem to be a sort of high point though, that reminds me that I should use this flicker of a moment on Earth, this short breath of experience, an inhale, an exhale, this life and impending death, for something greater than myself but that I am still a part of. It seems like a life devoted to humanity solves all things. It's a life of love. A life of passion. A life of curiosity. Of creativity. Of individual importance and collective importance and like the stakes are the highest they can ever be at every given moment and the freest a person can be in the face of death knowing they've also lived their life in a way that fundamentally cannot be filled with regret or fear or any of that because what else could one do? If one had no idea what they wanted out of life - this path would always be there for them. This path would ensure everyone, including them, was cared for, seen, and loved. That's what it is at the end of the day. Love. A love so profound, it extends beyond itself, into all things. It makes everything okay. It lights all darkness, cleanses all evil, it transfigures existence. It makes an art out of living. Art takes words and turns it into poetry. Takes sound and transforms it into music. Materials into cloth and into clothing. Pictures and playing pretend and weaves it into cinema. In politics, if one shares this love for humanity, one can allow all to experience this breadth of experience and one can preserve it. It can solve the contradictions... Again, I find myself in this corner. I love art. I am confused about whether or not I should continue to pursue it. I had dreams of being an artist. I wanted and probably still want to be a multi-disciplinary artist. But the world has changed - in many ways, for the worse - since I first recognized that desire. Before that, I would sometimes cry upon returning from church that I knew we all had to do what was expected of us, which I understood from the Gospels, that this doing was "God's work." We must all put aside our earthly desires and change the world for the better. We must all do our best to eradicate evil. And sure, maybe one cannot do this ideologically, but materially - we can build a world without it. A world where even if it exists, it has no power over us. A world where everyone is happy, healthy, and free to live out their dreams. (I'm putting aside some of the contradictions here - I don't feel the need to go into depth about the contradiction at this moment because I want to keep talking about this other thing on my mind at the moment but for now just understand that *some who still wish to do evil in this utopia would just systematically not be able to do so. *The difficulty we face in trying to overthrow capitalism, or end war, is the same difficulty the evildoers would face. *In other worlds, imagine a world where power is inverted.) Maybe, I'm fitting theory to evidence in retrospect, but I imagine I cried because in a lot of ways that meant I couldn't have my "own" life. Whatever that means. I'm being cynical. I know what it means. It means, that if I wanted to be a fashion designer, or a filmmaker, or any of these things I had in mind - a life dedicated to this craft - I couldn't do that because there is something of much higher priority. Now, just writing that out loud, it sounds so silly because why would any other kind of work stop me from doing that if I wanted? Well, I guess it's just because you can't do two things at once and if I'm going to spend so much time on something (you cannot realize your film's highest potential in a day nor can you change the world in a day - and Lord knows how much work needs to be done in the latter arena) then it is true that a sacrifice must be made. And because I like so many things, so many things that I cannot choose one, it may also mean that I must choose the kind of work that chose me. That makes me think of me less. Not less of me! Everytime I think of myself I'm miserable! It's the kind of work that is so absolutely needed right now. The kind of work that has one simple aim - make the world a better place (materially). Who knows... maybe, if we do this right, if we save the world and do it fast enough, we'll all be able to relax and make art like we're supposed to. Fully appreciating the experience, without death and destruction distracting us. In the meantime, I'll be fighting the data centers and the slaughterhouses they keep trying to put up in our backyards because even with all of our gardens there, I personally won't be able to enjoy the smell of the roses. Who wants to help me clean up?
3.08.2026 Disclaimer. I feel the need to say Pea and Mark Fisher are probably the reasons I made this blog. Mark Fisher because he had k-punk and Pea because... well, Pea is an inspiration for everything. She journals. She lives a very Real life.
3.16.2026 Class as a form of segregation. I know this is probably obvious to most. But it bears repeating. Working Americans don't think of themselves as a class. Of course, this isn't to say, other aspects of our identities don't serve an important purpose. Certainly, race, gender, disability, etc. all intersect to create unique forms of oppression. And without a doubt, it's very important to think about them. But what about class? In what ways are those of a certain class excluded from access? I hope I don't sound as though I am trivializing segregation when I say this, but in a similar way, those who are poor and working-class are segregated from the rest of society. This segregtion exists on a spectrum: the poorer you are the more discriminated society is against you. You cannot access goods, you cannot access care, you cannot access anything without money. Even abstract things, like your own time, are withheld from you. You have to work two jobs? You have to cook, clean, and raise your kids alone? Think about it. Even socially, you are ostracized as everyone else around you participates in the reinforcement of a classist culture. It's subtle, almost invisible, but the outcome is the same. In a fancy restaurant that used to say, "Whites Only," it now says, "Rich Only." Except now you can't see the sign. The sign just is. The same is true for access to education, to healthy foods, to medical care. Even the consequences of this culture can have some compounding, downstream effects. If I am poor, and I cannot afford fancy clothes, I will be discriminated against in a fancy store. I will be asked to leave. I will be followed by security. If I am poor, I cannot afford to not work! I have to find whatever job is available to me to make my ends meet. If I cannot afford an education, I have even less options. I am doubly taken advantage of as my coercion to enter the market increases. Now, we can map this onto intersectional frameworks and see the full scale of one's oppression. We have created a world based on enclosure and we keep changing the ways we keep people out. They become less and less visible - people begin to accept them as natural. We let more and more "representation" do the talking, when enclosure continues to do the walking. But real inclusion isn't representation, it's justice. Maybe, more on this later. I have an appointment with my friend. We're going to go on a walk.
3.19.2026 Lethal Selfishness. I'm supposed to be sleeping. I shouldn't wait to the last minute to write. But alas. I'll make this quick. I was listening to a recorded interview with a famous American author (not going to name drop for fear of sounding pretentious - I know, I know, I shouldn't care what other people think... I guess in a way my refusal to name drop is itself a form of inverted pretentiousness, right? like who am I to be so above a little self aggrandizement) Anyway, he said something along the lines of "selfishness at lethal levels" - I can't quite remember the context, but it seems an apt description of culture under late-stage capitalism. Billionaires and the people in power literally have internalized a selfishness so grand it's become lethal. And if Mark Fisher's statement about it being easier to imagine the end of the world than capitalism is true - meaning, climate collapse or WW3 or any other symptom of capitalist imperialism wipes us all out... then it ultimately would be easier to imagine the end of the world than capitalism. Because our civilization would literally cease to exist under capitalism. So, selfishness kills. Let's get to work. We can turn this around. You can start with you. I believe in us. Goodnight.
3.25.2026 Ideation of a fatal kind. I'm struggling right now. Mentally, emotionally, maybe spiritually - I can't say physically, though my brain is definitely going through it. I'm here again. In the dark place. Everything is too much and life doesn't stop throwing things at me. I feel like reality is the brat and not me but everyone keeps looking at me like I am. I'm not the one who started the silent fight. No one can see what I'm going through. No one can feel it. It's a hellscape. I'm traversing fear, insecurity, anxiety, overwhelm, dread... I'm at my limit. And all I do is swallow it. I can't do this anymore. I don't know what to do, but write about it. I'm in this cyclical trap. I'm thrown against the wall, my body releases all the negative hormones and thoughts, I'm flooded with an impotent rage, a tsunami of frustration, everything is shit. I'm not even trying to sound dramatic. This fucking stupid ass text post isn't even doing the feeling justice. I feel like a fucking idiot sitting here typing this shit. I'm so fucking angry. There's nowhere to put this rage. I'm just typing away on this fucking screen and who gives a fuck about any of this. There are so many other things going on. I even feel stupid for being upset. Everything is in contradiction. The world is ablaze and I'm mad that I feel alone. Suck it up stupid fuck. Be grateful you're even alive. Why does my brain keep telling me things, horrible things. Why does it keep saying I'm not worthy of love? Why don't I love myself? Why do I have to bend over backwards, outside of myself, lock everything I love in a drawer, let go of all my desires, become this inflatable tube man of a human being just to feel some peace? Is there no certainty but this? As soon as I think I got something nice going, here comes another curveball. Can I dust off my pants? Can I walk up to the plate? Can I catch a breath? What went wrong? What keeps going wrong? What's wrong? I don't know. Am I writing for an audience? Why do I have 1,500+ views on my site? Where the fuck is the real me? Why are my biggest insecurities so hurtful? Why does dinner with my girlfriend and my biggest insecurity feel like death by 1,000 papercuts? I'm getting fucking pressure cooked out here. Throw me a bone. Throw me something! Do I think too much of myself? Am I too entitled? Will I have to humble myself to the size of a pube on an ant's nutsack? Like come on. I just want to be free. Days like this make me question everything. Doing everything for everyone and then when the time comes, people have their doubts and questions, and of course I'm sympathetic, but when I was going through it, no one gave a fuck. I was spited for it. I was cast as someone wasting THEIR time. But it's never wasting my time. No. My time is everyone's. My boundaries are for everyone to cross. If I assert myself, well, who the fuck does he think he is? I hate that. I HATE THAT. I HATE IT SO FUCKING MUCH. THERE NEEDS TO BE SOME KIND OF JUSTICE FOR THIS. FOR EVERYONE WHO FEELS LIKE THEY'VE BEEN WRONGED. THERE NEEDS TO BE JUSTICE. I ACCEPT MY PENALTIES. I ACCEPT MY FLAWS. BUT ARE THEY STILL COMING? ARE THEY EVOLVING? ARE THEY FOREVER AND EVER? I mean - how much more must I endure?
3.26.2026 continued. There's a deep suffering I can't rid myself of at the moment. It's torturous. All I can do is name it. But it keeps coming back. I need help.
3.26.2026 I bet I could write forever. It needs to leave me. It needs to leave my body. I ask that it leaves for good. I can no longer host this feeling. It has taken me somewhere and I refuse to go any further. I ask God, I ask this feeling, I ask who hurt this spirit, why must you exist this way, why have you found me, and why have you stayed my companion? Could all those who suffer, be the most selfless, in that they share an experience with the loneliest, the ugliest, the most awful emotions/experiences/spirits? If it needed a friend, I don't mean to banish it. I just wish it wouldn't cause me all this pain. I wish it would learn how to love. I wish it would see why no one wishes to be with it. And change. Is this a lesson for myself? Why must the inside of self transform itself when it is the one undergoing the suffering? The soul must be loved from the outside to feel solace. It is incapable of doing so on its own. This must be a lesson we learn. Because, if it indeed were possible, we would all be healed. We would all have discovered it. But there is no way. Unless, I just don't know the way? Unless no one has made it their principle duty to show the world, to aleviate this suffering, in all its forms. I am really having a hard time here. It must be said. It must not be understated. I'm having trouble sleeping. I feel a vacuum in my chest. I feel an ache in my soul. I feel emptiness in my heart. I feel loneliness in my brain. I wish I could feel her love me.
3.26.2026 To her. You're sleeping now. You lay in my bed. I sit outside of it on the chair in front of you. I can't see you - it's pitch black. It's 2am. My screen light makes it impossible for my eyes to dialate. In times of such distress, I don't know what I feel about you. I know I'll always love you. I just don't know why it's only coming out of me. Do you love me, Pea? Do you? Why don't you comfort me? Why don't you ask if everything is okay? Why don't you do a little more to show me you care. You don't do it. You don't do any of it. I'm alone here. I'm sitting on this fucking chair and you're asleep because if I get up who fucking cares? Does it eat at you? The way it eats at me when something is wrong with you? When there is even a fine point - the finest point - of unhappiness in your eyes? In your demeanor? I feel, in so many ways, disrespected. An afterthought. You are primary. I am secondary. Just show me you care. It's like you're just going along with the life you planned and it wouldn't matter if it was me, or someone else, as long as you got it. I don't even want to question this. I refuse to apologize, to accept this pain, any longer. If I'm not supposed to be with you, then so fucking be it. But don't let me go through this torment, this deep, puncturing wound to my psyche and my soul, this eruption of doom, plaguing every nerve ending, every neuron, pulling down every muscle in my face and body with pessimistic despair, with the gravity of it, just to be your fucking goofy boyfriend. I feel so small beside you.
3.26.2026 Whose fault is it? Is this all the doing of my own mind?
3.28.2026 Insecuritymaxxing I'll have to make this quick. My girlfriend is probably wondering where I am. I don't know if this is something else I deserve. I told God to punish me for everything I put her through. I guess I'll never be on even karmic terms with her... short of experiencing a break up where, nevermind. I didn't do anything wrong. Maybe, I just have to understand that. I don't want to write a doomed relationship, a lifetime of suffering and insecurity, into existence. She doesn't deserve that. And I've already put myself through so much. It seriously has become unendurable. But these thoughts, these negative emotions, they must go somewhere. And I'd rather put them here than give them to her. I've tried that before and I don't know if it works. I don't know whether I should ask for reassurance or if that would make the problem worse. I've already put it in her head that I'm insecure around other men, it feels ridiculous for it happen again, and I would absolutely hate for it to keep happening. It feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy. What if my girlfriend sees me as insecure? Then what? Will I forever be that in her mind? I already feel so unseen at tines. There have been other occasions where I've noticed that she treats me as a static figure. I'm growing too. It's just so difficult to outgrow my past. To outgrow my insecurities. I come from a context. And while I feel I've risen out of my own conditioning in a lot of ways, it nevertheless feels like a strenuous exercise, something that demands my undivided and complete emotional attention, a wrenching focus, to persist in spite of these negative things weighing on me and my reality, and bringing everything down. I can't explain the level of torture I experience with my girlfriend, when she's around someone I'm insecure about. It's the ugliest feeling in the world. My mind latches on to the feeling and doesn't let it go. It tries to see the experience from all angles, which is likely a trauma response. If I can see it all, if I can examine and experience the pain in all its ugly forms, it can't surprise me. But it still hurts. So much. I don't understand the mind. Am I trying to code the hurt in the mind, so that were it to happen, I'd recognize the pain and maybe it wouldn't sting so badly like all first times? Or is surprise just much more painful than predicted pain? It makes no sense. It's as though I'm more scared of being hurt by surprise than being hurt with foresight. Maybe, I'd feel like by predicting pain I can't change, at least I can still exercise some agency. Is that all I'm after? I don't know. I want to be in love. I want to stay there. I want to feel loved. Unconditionally. I want to have 0 doubts. Why do I still have them? Has she done anything that would cause me such questions? Not that I know of. Is it my own conscience? Have I truly done her wrong? But then again... how long can I keep up this martyrdom? Haven't I suffered enough? How much self-deception can a man experience? Is that even what's happening? God, I need answers. And if you've already given them to me, I need your help trusting you.
3.28.2026 continued. The irony of that last sentence isn't lost on me. I wish it were a joke, but it's precisely my dilemma. I also ended it there because I think it highlights the current impasse in my thinking. It would also be great material for psychoanalysis. Here, I stand, a man of faith in the divine - confident enough to believe God has a plan for me, that he's communicating with me, though not confident enough in my own abilities to decipher his messages. Why do I implicitly believe He speaks in code? Is it because He doesn't explicitly say anything? Why do I see signs - like the wine bottle address (my landlord gave me and my girlfriend a bottle of wine out of a sudden hospitable impulse and it just so happened that in fine print the wine had the numbers of our address next to the words, "Established in") but also misinterpret things? Am I clear sighted enough to see them in one domain and delusional enough to make them up in another? Is what I'm feeling in my body, wrong? I can no longer trust myself. I no longer understand it. I've learned and consciously chose to hate a certain kind of feeling like lust, out of respect for my girlfriend, and in doing that, I've made a division in myself. There are good feelings and bad ones. Now, half of me is criminalized. I can't bear to live with lust, with insecurity, with anger, with sadness, with anything negative. It's made life almost more of a living hell. I think I know I should undo this, but it's equally as painful to experience an emotion I didn't necessarily consent to. If someone can show me how I'm consenting to it, please, be my guest. Now, when my insecurity radar goes off - I feel like reality is presenting a negative narrative experience, and like a detective, I'm piecing it together, believing things internally like (my girlfriend is attracted to this person and I'm such a loser, such an unmanly man, such a wimp, such a "nice guy," such a dork, nothing attractive about me at all, nothing manly about me at all, etc etc etc ad infinitum) and yet, I'm constantly fighting this feeling, disbelieving myself. This is so hard. You don't understand. Add the pain of experiencing an unpleasant feeling with the pain of resisting it and the pain of believing it and the pain of doubting it and what do you get? You get the mechanics of my internal suffering. Am I right? Am I wrong? Is it somewhat true and somewhat false? Did the feeling flit across her consciousness? Is a moment, however brief, still a moment of betrayal? Am I doomed to this rumination forever? God, I want to love her with everything I have, but this is really getting in the way. Please help me gift her that.
3.28.2026 Confession. I just confessed some of the contents of my consciousness to my girlfriend. The unending insecurity didn't dissipate. Or maybe it did to a small degree. I feel a little lighter now, though I'm not totally free. And that's what I'm looking for. I'm looking for total liberation from this feeling. I hope I never feel it again. Of course, as someone with a brain, I know this is impossible. The potential to feel it again is limitless - and it's likely I'll feel it again soon. I just don't understand why I must feel it. I hate that when I'm playing mini-golf with some friends, and my girlfriend makes a hole, she doesn't look at me first. Especially because I'm always watching her. She is literally the apple of my eye. Why was I born to simp? It isn't fair. Why am I even capable of noticing that? I know I want the truth, but this might be a step too far. No. What am I saying? I always want the truth. I deserve it. She deserves it, too. She brought up someone I had been thinking about last night - someone who mirrors my insecurity, but for her. I know I'm not getting into specific details, even though I know this is a private website with very few visitors, I still feel cautious about exposing things. I still want there to be a layer of privacy. I digress. The person she was thinking of, is someone whom, I showered with attention when it should have all gone to my girlfriend. It was a time where I didn't truly open my vulnerable heart out to her, I was still under the spells of my socialization through misogny and patriarchy. I was still under the spells of capitalist culture and predatory algorthims that subliminally communicated to me that being a man was being someone who had sex with a lot of women and who got attention from a lot of women. It's a powerful drug. And, anyway, I was that sort of man-child and I know I put her through exactly what I'm going through now. I didn't do it consciously, or maliciously, but I did it. And I'm assuming it's exaclty the same thing I'm going through now. It was quite incredible that my girlfriend said her name and the place where she experienced the moment of insecurity. I remember sitting at the table, and realizing, I was going a little too far. I felt disgusted with myself after. I guess I get what I deserve. We weren't flirting or anything, but my lack of attention towards my girlfriend, and in turn, my excessive attention towards her, was unfair. So, I'm paying my dues now - and that's totally fine with me. I suppose it will keep going, until I reach a point of equilibrium, or purity, and maybe then, my mind will get a break. Who knows? It's just a theory. If it turns out to be true, I hope it comes soon. And when it does come, I hope I can stay there.
3.28.2026 Short Story. Tarantula. Michael Seely sat on his bed, staring out of the window. Though the blinds were shut, he could still see the empty street outside his culdesac from one of the loose panels on the bottom rung of the windowpane. It was a poorly crafted piece of woodwork, barely holding itself together, and it said just as much about the house Michael grew up in as it did about his neighborhood at large. It was an impoverished place - not just of wealth and material but of the imagination. People wore blue jeans and flannel shirts. They married their highschool sweethearts and inherited the family business. They watched television, went to sports games, and frequented the local bar. They never left the town, they never grew agonizingly curious, they never asked for more or complained about having less. Unlike them, Michael wanted too much, he wanted everything, literally everything since he found himself jealous of their perfect contentment. All he inherited was an eternal sense of self-contemptousness. One that was impossible to shake. The empty street suddenly produced a bird. It walked over to a kernel on the ground, picked it up with its sleek beak, and seemingly swallowed it whole. When it flew away, Michael decided it was time to leave. He leaned over his bed, propped the panel down, and put his shoes on. The blinds were uniform now: neat, orderly, and forced by Michael's will into cohesion. Everything was to follow this plan. He flicked off the light, headed down the hallway, and opened the front door into a world he would no longer recognize. Michael was leaving behind a world, he would no longer be able to return too.
3.28.2026 It's getting fucking old. I'm so sick and tired of the vegan jokes. Nothing about it is funny anymore. It's disrespectful and immature. To me, it shows a lack of open mindedness and intelligence. Why do I always have to swallow my tongue? Why doesn't everyone else have to watch theirs? Today wasn't even a good day. In the morning, as the above entry mentions, I confessed my feelings of insecurity to my girlfriend. They never fully went away. She didn't say a single thing that comforted me. She just watched me writhe in pain and brought up a similar moment where she felt the same way. I suppose that's fair. But my mind doesn't let it go. In fact, it just keeps adding to the narrative that makes me feel worse. Did you know, the day it happened, yesterday, before any of the insecure events occurred, I was complimenting my girlfriend in front of my other friend? We were in the car, and my friend was complaining about how he can't stand one of our other friends' girlfriend, which by the way, I don't understand his hatred of her, but his reasons were that said girlfriend brings out the worst in our mutual friend. As he's explaining the ins and outs of his argument, he makes reference to me and my girlfriend. He says we bring out the best in each other. Of course, I agree. I mentioned that my girlfriend helped push me to take on more repsonsibilities and that without her, I would have never grown so much as a person. Anyway, I went on and on, pouring my heart out from the most genuine of places, and my friend said that it was beautiful. Only for me to feel stupid, and in hindsight, like a simp hours later. Fast forward to today. After I confessed, I had to go put on an emotional mask of normalcy because my girlfriend and I went to visit her cousin. Her cousin's boyfriend has said questionable things before, never to my face, but I could sense we didn't really sync. Politically and personality-wise, we didn't exactly match. That's not the issue. I think the issue comes down to a basic lack of respect. I'm tired of being made fun of because I'm such a "nice" guy to people. People don't know how I really feel? How the fuck do they have the nerve to say things they think they can get away with? If it's a disrespectful comment, it's a disrespectful comment. And before, I used to laugh it off. I would play cool. I wouldn't mind being the butt of the joke. But now? After so many years? After so many instances of "being the bigger person," I'm over it. I'm so fucking over it. It's fucking ridiculous at this point. I'm letting myself feel annoyed. I'm not fighting the feelings. If someone put it there, if someone else made the mess, it's no longer my responsibility to clean it up. I've been doing that ever since I was a kid. I'm an adult now. You fucking fix it. You sit there and deal with my silence. I don't have to talk to fill in the space like I used to. If I'm uncomfortable, fuck it, we'll all be uncomfortable (if the reason I'm uncomfortable is your fault.) What good is there in peace? Peace is the white man's word. You can have peace under awful conditions. The word I'm looking for is liberation. Total liberation from the insecure self.
3.29.2026 Heartbroken I need some help from the universe right now. I don't know what to do and I don't know how to feel. I'm laying in bed beside the love of my life and yet I'm scared for our future. I'm still so insecure. So insecure, I don't even know the right words to say to her. We haven't spoken for most of the day, since yesterday. I don't think she has tried to comfort me once. If ever she is sad, I jump to make everything okay for her. At this moment, she seems indifferent. I find it unlikely that she'd apologize. Does she know inside herself how hurtful it is to take it a step too far? Only her conscience can be the judge of that. I doubt she is remorseful. I always knew when I took it a step too far. We have yet to see how she'll respond. Wish me luck guys. I hope we can make it.
3.30.2026 Apprehension. We spoke. I felt relieved. I told her what I needed from her. She thanked me for communicating my feelings. I thought it was resolved? I woke up this morning with butterflies. I'm still not sure what I'm nervous about. Maybe, it's all in my head? I'm afraid it might have something to do with our future. I'm afraid I lost something I'll never get back. Whatever your will is God, I accept it. I just want life to be just. She deserves to be happy. You are the best disposer of affairs.
3.31.2026 Void. I tore a hole in the universe. When I hurt her, I tore a hole in the universe. Why did I have to break up with her? Who gave me those feelings? Who put doubt in my heart and mind? What evil allowed love to be doubted? What spirit used me for this trick? Return me to her. Return me to what I should have known I had before I lost it. Return me to that place. I tore a hole in the universe. I will do everything I can to patch it up. I only ask that God give me what I deserve. Nothing more, nothing less. He is the best disposer of affairs. To Him we belong and to Him we shall return. I love her.
3.31.2026 ??? Lately, this blog has become a journal. A place for me to expel all of my anxieties and frustrations. I think it's been helping, but I can't really say for certain... Anyway, I forget that this blog can be and was supposed to be and has been about many things. I hope that when I'm past this rough patch - I can get back to that. It needs a little diversity.
3.31.2026 P.S. Okay now I think I'm just typing whatever comes to mind. ^^^ Well, I guess that's okay, too.
4.1.2026 April Fool? I think something is up. I'll keep you posted if it is.
4.1.2026 Contradictions. Today, was an odd day. It still remains one. Besides my girlfriend barely responding to me - which, given the fact that we're going to move in, doesn't really surprise me because I would imagine she's soaking up every moment with her family - something strange happened. The cause of my torment, which I touched on very briefly in Confession, flipped around on me. Today, I was asked for my Instagram account by a young woman who I do volunteer work with. It was almost like the universe playing a trick on me. I don't know why it happened, but it seemed like she wanted to connect a little outside of our non-profit conversations. Occasionally, she'll text me, and I get the sense that she wants to have conversations of a more personal kind. She ends up talking about different things unrelated to work and I briefly entertain them out of politeness before finding an out. I've already told her I had a girlfriend once, though it was in passing, I said, "my girlfriend and I were actually at UCLA for Halloween last year..." and something more about visiting friends that I can't quite remember. Either way, I have an inkling that maybe she wants to be friends? That shouldn't be inappropriate, but I also think it may be a little more than that? I don't know. It sounds ridiculous, except for the fact that this sort of thing would devastate me in the inverse. I feel so fragile around my girlfriend. She always says it's my insecurity, and I know that's true to a certain extent, but why do I even feel it at all? Why can I no longer trust my gut? Why is everything in this life backwards? It's as though, I can't reach whatever it is I'm searching for. I tore a hole in the universe and in doing so I tore a hole in myself. I want to feel whole. I want to remain in a constant state of love. I want to feel loved and be loved and I want someone to take my feelings seriously. I'm not saying my girlfriend isn't doing that, but is she? I feel like we traded souls. Because now, I'm in the position she wrote about. I'm paying for the sins of my actions. I'm feeling everything she felt. I think? My consciousness has taken a different form. I had a conversation with my girlfriend the day before she left my house. I told her that now I need something from her. I need more attention. I need her to see me the way I see her. With novelty, with curiosity, with excitement, with love. She's not just a static, unchanging person to me. But that's because I don't see her as such. I think in order for her to feel safe, she has had to put me in a box. She has had to say that I'm a certain way, and that I'll always be that way forever, in order for her to experience me without calamity. It's something we do to others when we feel threatened by them. When they are unsafe to us. When they hurt us. I don't know why, but maybe it's a loss of respect. Maybe, it's something that we feel they deserve. That this is retribution. That enduring this spell is their penance. It's just a theory, but it begs the question. Why doesn't she respond to me all day? Why do I wait all day like a dog for her reply? I know this was what I must have done to her? Who knows how long I kept this up? Again, I'll pay for my crimes. But God, please, don't allow me to fall into self-deception. Please allow only what is just. If she doesn't want to live with me, if she doesn't want to be with me, tell me that. We can go our separate ways. My life as I know it would be over, but if that is the truth, I wish to inherit the truth. Please help me inherit the truth. Please proceed with your will, no matter the outcome. I know, ultimately, your will is unconditional love.
4.1.2026 continued. I don't want to live in a house where my presence is a nuisance. I don't want to be someone's mannequin. I don't want to be their purse, or their security guard - I don't mind being those things for someone I love. I just don't want to ONLY be those things. OMG, is this a man's first encounter with objectification? Boo hoo! Maybe, it is. And maybe I deserve it. I'm just trying to understand what I did to deserve it, so that I never do it again. I also want to know how long this pain will last? I keep enduring and enduring and there are so many days where I feel I just can't anymore, but then the day passes, and I wake up, and the cloud of misery's still there, but there's also just enough sunlight to keep me enduring and enduring again. And that's the hardest part. Not knowing when it will end. I just keep waiting, waiting, waiting...
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