Tag: no reason

Stress

November 15, 2025

I’m losing my mind.

I am so stressed out over everything that anytime I don’t get enough sleep, I turn into a weeping mess. Everything sets me off. Especially commercials. They are meant to elicit an emotional response and damn do they work on me lately.

Let’s go through some of the shit I have been dealing with, in no particular order:

  • The government is actively trying to harm all of us. There is no easy way around it, it’s terrible.
  • My mom is still sick and I’ve been feeling extra guilty about not spending more time with her.
  • I’m on the brink of financial ruin. I have no savings and I’m still trying to buy Christmas gifts. I have so much debt and it’s becoming crippling again.
  • My job isn’t guaranteed especially with bullet point number one. We depend on pharmaceutical companies and if they lose money, we lose money. I don’t have a backup.
  • I might have to move in a few months. If my roommate can’t get a job (she’s been trying for YEARS) We will have to downsize. I love my apartment. It’s just too expensive for one income.
  • (Update: How could I forget?!) I’m also desperately touch starved. I have no one in my life I allow to give me affection. I’m never hugged and no one, except my cat, gets near me.

All I want to do is sit around and catch up on my TBR list. I have so many books I want to read but no attention span anymore. So, I just smoke weed and cry over Great British Bake Off.

1/29/25

January 29, 2025

Have you ever felt some sort of happiness that it scared you? It scared you because it was new, different, and could be taken away. The kind of happiness that actually warms your heart. Its comfortable and what home should feel like. Not like the home I grew up in. I didn’t know what this could feel like before you.

I’m guarded because this feeling could truly wreck me when it goes away. I’m afraid to actually feel this emotion. If I let it in, it will make space in myself. A space that will be vacant one day. Left as a cold emptiness.

But am I doing this feeling a disservice by not letting myself experience it? Even though it will be gone one day, it is here today. I need to stay in the present, leave the trauma responses in the past and promise myself the best of futures.

Coca Cola #2

May 26, 2022

Here’s more pretentious garbage I’ve written:

I have always wondered what are memories? Our whole being is meat and electricity. How does consciousness work? There has to be something out there. Something that connects us all. We are not individuals. We experience the same stimuli. Our realities are so different because of our experiences. Each new experience changes the filter of how you see life. Some for the better and some the more opaque. I feel that my lens has been clearing up lately. I know more about myself and how I act. My general behaviors and where I want to be. But do I know where I want to be? I really don’t because I don’t have a sense of self. My identity has been lost to the constant need to please others. I built each layer around me to form into every situation and relationship I’ve ever been in. And since my earlier formative years were around narcissists, I have no sense of myself. All that mattered was them.

I’m starting to return. I can feel the small irritations throughout my meat suit. My foot feels like a nail has fallen through the top. My arms feel like they are wrapped in barbed wire. I still can’t feel myself. How would I know?

That’s all, folks! See ya next time!

Short Story: Subject My Night

October 19, 2020

I sat on my couch that was more duct tape than leather at this point. I was playing Halloween music loudly in my empty apartment. I rigged together my laptop and my second favorite mechanical keyboard on a lap desk I had impulsively bought from Barnes and Noble years ago. I felt good, I felt semi-awake, and I was going to write. About 30 minutes into writing, I realized that I had started many thoughts but finished none of them. The desire in me to write is rooted in my love of reading. Occasionally, I will read a book off Amazon and think to myself, “I could definitely write better than that.” 

To this point in my life, I never actually wrote a complete story. I even enrolled in a creative writing course through some scam of a website, definitely not affiliated with any respectable school. I ghosted that program the second I realized the teacher and I did not agree on what was quality writing. I would never say that I am an expert in anything to be honest, but I know that I enjoy writing in a certain way, and no one could persuade me otherwise. 

At some point, I believed in between college and grad school, I had convinced myself that I should write a memoir. What I forgot at the time was that my life was eventless and I was not humorous enough to write anything that someone would read, let alone give me money. So, now I am doing something similar to a memoir but more scatterbrained. I’m writing a blog. Again, there was almost no planning or structure to what I was embarking on but who cared, it was free and I didn’t have to use my own name. 

Well, here we are. I am two months or so into this blog and yet I have no idea what I am doing still.