the problem with reading nine dorothy sayers novels in two days is even your depression thoughts start sounding like a late-1920s british female member of the peerage, not overblessed with stoicism or common sense, but with a heart of gold and occasionally very useful in a pinch
“my god, life is positively too beastly for words, isn’t it? i really think i may just lie down and expire this time, i really do. don’t you wonder sometimes how anyone even goes on? i think i shall shut myself up inside the dumbwaiter.”
wow i want so desperately to kill myself. obviously bc i was awake before 9. that’s why i have to be killed
…
it just hurts so much to exist and do things or go places. it hurts, and i’m tired of hurting: i’m ready to not hurt.
of course, i didn’t have to get up this early– i knew it would hurt but it felt morally right to get up early & then i couldn’t even get up [early "enough"/as early as i wanted to], so i hurt and i failed, but staying in bed to not hurt is a failure even more; i did this to myself, of course. i got up early because–– i don’t know, let’s say i wanted to get to work early and get things done, but of course i won’t be able to, i can only do maybe two things at work today, which is at least partly my own fault for being weak/lazy/performative on saturday when i was supposed to do work. so 1. i should save them to do when people are around & i can find out if the parts of the undoable tasks that aren’t my fault can be done yet. and 2. no one else at my job shows up at all until roughly 10 AM and it takes me maybe fifteen minutes to walk there.
…..but i have to be up before 9. because uh–– because that’s–– because that’s how to be good. and i so wish i could be good.
it’s hard to figure out how to view myself as maybe bisexual WITHOUT wanting to kill myself
i feel like i’m betraying everything and no one will want to talk to me anymore. and also that i’ll stop being a person. and also that if i was Nonbinary But Also Still A Lesbian In The Approveable Flattened Version Of Leslie Feinberg Manner that was still acceptable and interesting and ascribed to me some territory and value, but if not then i’m not anything anymore, i might as well give up and be a straight girl and then you know kill myself, which is the inevitable consequence of me being a straight girl.
eta: also, of course, men are terrifying and i only like three of them, and i’m not totally clear on why i’ve elected to do this to myself, it’s not like it’ll make anything easier and now i’ll just be boring and no one will like me
Sometimes in late summer I won’t touch anything, not
the flowers, not the blackberries
brimming in the thickets; I won’t drink
from the pond; I won’t name the birds or the trees;
I won’t whisper my own name.
One morning
the fox came down the hill, glittering and confident,
and didn’t see me—and I thought:
so this is the world.
I’m not in it.
It is beautiful.
currently-held beliefs [overall pretty posi, probably subject to day-to-day fluctuations, but i’m hoping that i can hold on to them for a while macroscopically.]:
– that my face and body are both “successfully”/ “innately” androgynous, by which i mean both:
i feel that i am hot (my current most-desired ~positive body state as opposed to cute/beautiful/handsome/etc) and androgynous and even hot-because-androgynous
but also, that i am successfully training myself to consider my p much unchangeable visual qualities (tall, bony, very straight build, strong brows, “striking” face setup, atypically long hands/arms) to be a success of my desire to look androgynous. that is, i’m able to believe that the traits i have are successful achievements of how i want to appear. or, in approximation: i often like my face and body now.
– that my haircut is visually successful, gender/sexuality-affirmingly successful, and, again, “hot”.
– that my desire to die/become a rock/become a p-zombie or perfect simulation or robot copy of myself (which are all more or less equivalent urges, the latter of which is a relatively new one based on my newfound ability to somewhat/sometimes believe that my death would hurt others) is actually about me not wanting to be in pain/afraid/sad (again basically equivalent states), RATHER THAN about a strongly held moral belief that the world/others’ lives would be better if i did not exist.
this is highly preferable because it is much harder to for me to justify “i don’t want to hurt” as a reason to kill myself than “i would actively improve others’ lives”. i am not often strongly moved to action by a desire to stop being in pain; i am often strongly moved to action by a desire to help people i love. (i don’t know 100% how much that’s true about me vs a belief about me, but the second one suffices for this.) admittedly it would also be good if i could like, make myself take painkillers when i have headaches, or whatever, but we are going one thing at a time right now.
also, one of the frequent triggers for this desire for no more consciousness is being hurt by the actions of someone i love, and identifying the impulse as being me wanting to escape the pain both lowers it in seriousness and helps me keep from flipping the weighting so that i am thinking more about how i might have triggered the incident than about the fact that i was hurt.
[this post is here instead of a post that says “want kill self”]
answered 9 but i’ll cheat and also brag about this beautiful scarf. when i bought it i thought it was going to be a gift for someone else, but as soon as it arrived i realized that 1. they wouldn’t really appreciate it even though i was correct that it would look good on them and 2. i wanted it intensely. so now it’s mine:
20. Did you develop a new obsession?
i went All In on tatterpigs, which i think is the most obvious one– started my first game ever in january of this year and now have played many, run one, and am in multiple different rpg groups of various commitment and frequency. this is on the whole a good thing, i think, even if for some reason i can’t quite figure out why i’m doing it. certainly i’ve met a lot of really great people as a result of this, and i do like playing, and i like playing WITH those people, so that’s probably enough, i just can’t shake the feeling that somehow i’m only pretending to be a(/the kind of) person who plays ttrpgs. ok no, i know why this is, it is because the specific context in which i developed my initial intense devotion to the hobby has since [personal circumstance change redacted during this period of evaluation and quality assurance] and ever since i’ve been on the comedown of just “having fun” as opposed to “being creative-collaborative manic and filled with an extremely stupid version of love”
41. Did anything happen to you that you were sure wouldn’t change you as a person but it did?
er, therapy, actually, which despite consisting of really just me narrating things i already know about myself to my therapist while she frowns and refuses to diagnose me with things, has correlated neatly enough with a significant drop in suicidal ideation that i am at least cautiously willing to connect the two, especially since i don’t think my overall life circumstances changed enough to justify the drop compared to, let’s say, last january.
must a sport be entertaining to watch? 