greyblue_bian
2x Failed CTB Member
- Jun 10, 2022
- 184
I started a Word Document on the 16th of this month that I thought some of you would relate to and may even help you a bit. It's not positive or inspiring, but even the nihilism and insecurity I've put into these notes could help some of you feel less unique in your life situations. I titled the Document "The Thing that I Am" hence the title of this post.
(07/16/2023) To be able to fully put what I think and how I feel onto paper, I'd have to "re-unravel" my life story which I've done multiple times and I'm currently trying to "re-ravel" it back up and deep back down into my core to somehow figure out how to repress it again. So, yeah, I'm not going to do that here. I think even without my life story, this note will be long enough for people not to read. I'll work on it for days, so it really will be as long as I can make it.
If my entire life story is of interest to you, then you can go read the multiple notes I've left behind + all the shit I've anonymously posted online on my many accounts floating around on multiple different websites.
I'd like to again re-admit that I'm not a person that could be used to exemplify a "morally good person". I feel guilty for the things I've said and done, as I've written multiple times before. What I don't understand regarding this is that whenever I decide to open up to people about the things I've done, there's always some kind of excuse for it. But the kind of excuse-making people do when they go into denial about something that's been done if that makes sense. The same goes for other people that have said and done things to me in the past 18 years of my life (because apparently, things have been going on since I was in the stomach). There's a need to sprint to defend yourself from the truth. If it's the truth, why not let it ruin everything? I mean, the only thing it would only ruin is any facades or anything standing in the way of living as "free" as a human can mentally and emotionally live. But I guess I can't be one to talk about the truth. But then again, that's my whole point. Because I was one to lie because I was upset with others that cared about me and now know what I did was fucked up and genuinely stupid, shouldn't I be someone who knows best?
Speaking of that instance, a lot of things have come up and come from it. I know what it's like to internalize guilt and the consequences of doing both of those things. I know what it's like to basically ruin your life. I'm saying life because, shit, what fucking life do I have outside of the house sitting around the house, around my family, and not knowing how to socialize off or online? Or WITH a majority of my family, at that? Anyways, I know what it's like to hear things said about you when you are thought to not be around or oblivious to what's being said when you return back to being around. I know what it's like to debate trust and forgiveness for everyone in the world and yourself. I know what it is to be deserving of it and at the same time, find it repulsive. I mean, it wasn't only me. And I was the only one that did something extreme, so how could others get the same treatment for such normal issues that probably multiple others go through all the time that had many different solutions? Especially when it was evident that the way the issues were going about being dealt with didn't prove to be productive at all. I'm not sure if I'm judging this right. Apparently, I've proven (to myself) to be delusional on top of the multiple other things I am. But I try not to be sensitive about it. That's supposed to be funny in a very eyebrow-raising, passive-aggressive way because that's apparently one of the "things" I am. This is where I'll stop this morning.
(07/26/2023) I'm back here again, 10 days later. Well, at this time nearly 11 days later because it's 11:10 pm right now and I should make another effort at sleeping but there really is no point. It's not like school fixes my sleep schedule. Anyways, lately, I've obviously been thinking about the whole thing happening in the house right now with my aunt and uncle and I think I know how the situation could be handled best. In my opinion. I think (even if I think I actually did apologize before) I should just apologize for lying to them when I did and that's it. This whole thing would probably just go a lot smoother if I just left out my feelings and thoughts on everything because my opening up doesn't seem to be making anything better. But that also confuses me because everyone (by everyone I mean my aunt, uncle, and mom) used to ask me what was wrong and if I needed to would I be able to speak to them, things like that. They would ask me for my truth basically. And I mean, others (in the house) have expressed how they felt about how they felt and what they thought about the things they've said/done/say/do and it's always irrelevant in some way and just dumbed down and made it irrelevant as I said. And that's basically my reason for stone-walling my uncle (and aunt sometimes) when I did/do because since I've opened up, what I expected to happen happened. "My" truth doesn't matter here. I think talking about truth here makes this whole thing sound much more complex than it actually is. I thought what I've been saying was clear: that I still feel guilty about what I did and said about my aunt and about a couple of times I tried stealing money. But I'm still upset about all that because there was never any closure. Actually, it started coming back up. My aunt and uncle decided it was funny and started laughing about it one day. I'm not sure what exactly about it is funny, but they probably just did it because they're still hurt from what I did. I don't know. They don't remember it either. My aunt made a comment about it when she and I were in some conversation with my mom and started asking me if I had remembered what I'd done in a very mocking way, and I just told her I still felt bad, and she just responded asking me "Really?" You know, things like that.
It doesn't seem like the things I've heard they've called me when I was and wasn't around are relevant anymore because I wait so long to say something and just sit in resentment and anger which gives them time to be able to say they don't remember saying anything at all when I do finally build up some courage to say something about how I feel (when I figure it out at least). It's just that I'm happy that I've actually said everything I've been meaning to say for years now. I thought that was just some kind of delusional fantasy I would make up in my mind to repress how I feel and help me sleep at night. I'm happy that I can finally cut myself off from them but the only problem with this whole thing is that I'm supposed to feel bad for the things I've said. Why? I don't know. And it's not like I have anything else to think about. I moved in here when I was 9 with the promise we would move out (my mom and I) on and off for years and now I'm 18 and I'm living with them again. I don't have anything else to occupy me and when I am in school, I have to come back to the house.
Anyways, I think I'm rambling now. Overall, I don't understand why I believe the things people say that I am so easily. It's concerning. But it's only concerning for me, so nothing's going to change. I've looked through everything and I really have and still do believe I am an idiot and a bad influence on my little cousin. I do believe I am manipulative and selfish and sensitive. I do think I'm a scapegoat, but only because other people have said I was. How inaccurate can other people's perceptions of me be? Especially if they know me so well. I'm not saying that sarcastically; I'm being genuine. If they have been gifted with wisdom from their past mistakes, they can do no wrong. So, how inaccurate can the labels they give me be? I went to a new therapist once and one thing she said to me that's been re-playing in my mind recently is that I seem to feed into other people's narratives of me too much. But I don't know. At this point, it feels good to be shit. I mean it hurts a lot mentally and emotionally, but that is what makes it feel so good. Because that is what I seem to be living for: to live up to the expectations and fantasies of others and not do anything but. When I feel the best is when I hear others shit-talking me and when I am also talking shit about myself, like right now. When I'm being hurt verbally by myself or someone else is when I tend to feel the best. When I'm being gaslighted into thinking I'm delusional or over-dramatic and sensitive and then I go into this rage and then I get confused and then I get sad that my mind is where it's at and then I submit and start gaslighting myself is one of the best feelings. I'm not sure why. I'm genuinely concerned for myself. All of this is so easy to hide, it's really fascinating. I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard, so that's all for tonight. It's now 11:45 PM.
(07/27/2023) As I actively try to kill myself, I also find myself clinging to split-second waves of hoping and dreaming that I'll live a life. I keep making these goals and plans to get a job, save up, and move into my own apartment in the next year or so but I'm also making plans to kill myself when I finish P.O.S.A.P so I can vicariously live through it when I kill myself the day it's published. So maybe that's a sign that I'm only trying to kill myself because I am sensitive. Because I can't really handle everything. But when I say that, or really, when I think that, I completely put the reasons (that I know what they are) of why I want to kill myself to the side. I just downplay myself before someone else can do it again so it won't really be a surprise, or you know "soften the blow" when the time comes. It's a really self-deprecating defence mechanism. I'm not proud, but I have no idea what else to do. I'd rather not react emotionally strongly when someone hurts me emotionally. I don't know. I keep saying that. It's starting to annoy and worry me. I'm not sure there's anything else I have to write about. Basically, I just don't know what I should do: write and publish P.O.S.A.P and then kill myself, or just live. I mean I don't know what the fuck I'd even do with my life after I graduate school, I'd obviously get a job, but would I even have the work ethic to keep my job? I'm lazy and useless. I could start a YouTube channel now (which I've really been considering doing) but YouTube seems to be getting more and more dicey when it comes to getting shadow-banned and getting strikes and banned and having your account deleted for violating some rule, even if you didn't. I'm not sure I got what I wanted to say down on paper clearly. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't; know I don't know I don't I don't Know I don't know I don't know I don't I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know. I can't look at the word "don't" anymore. I want everything I do to have some kind of deep meaning. Maybe it's because I have no meaning. I am just here, and I need to find other things that will give that to me. I need other things and other people to have a point for existing. That's all I'll write. My laptop is about to die.
(I added this photo from Pinterest because I thought it related to what I wrote about)
(07/16/2023) To be able to fully put what I think and how I feel onto paper, I'd have to "re-unravel" my life story which I've done multiple times and I'm currently trying to "re-ravel" it back up and deep back down into my core to somehow figure out how to repress it again. So, yeah, I'm not going to do that here. I think even without my life story, this note will be long enough for people not to read. I'll work on it for days, so it really will be as long as I can make it.
If my entire life story is of interest to you, then you can go read the multiple notes I've left behind + all the shit I've anonymously posted online on my many accounts floating around on multiple different websites.
I'd like to again re-admit that I'm not a person that could be used to exemplify a "morally good person". I feel guilty for the things I've said and done, as I've written multiple times before. What I don't understand regarding this is that whenever I decide to open up to people about the things I've done, there's always some kind of excuse for it. But the kind of excuse-making people do when they go into denial about something that's been done if that makes sense. The same goes for other people that have said and done things to me in the past 18 years of my life (because apparently, things have been going on since I was in the stomach). There's a need to sprint to defend yourself from the truth. If it's the truth, why not let it ruin everything? I mean, the only thing it would only ruin is any facades or anything standing in the way of living as "free" as a human can mentally and emotionally live. But I guess I can't be one to talk about the truth. But then again, that's my whole point. Because I was one to lie because I was upset with others that cared about me and now know what I did was fucked up and genuinely stupid, shouldn't I be someone who knows best?
Speaking of that instance, a lot of things have come up and come from it. I know what it's like to internalize guilt and the consequences of doing both of those things. I know what it's like to basically ruin your life. I'm saying life because, shit, what fucking life do I have outside of the house sitting around the house, around my family, and not knowing how to socialize off or online? Or WITH a majority of my family, at that? Anyways, I know what it's like to hear things said about you when you are thought to not be around or oblivious to what's being said when you return back to being around. I know what it's like to debate trust and forgiveness for everyone in the world and yourself. I know what it is to be deserving of it and at the same time, find it repulsive. I mean, it wasn't only me. And I was the only one that did something extreme, so how could others get the same treatment for such normal issues that probably multiple others go through all the time that had many different solutions? Especially when it was evident that the way the issues were going about being dealt with didn't prove to be productive at all. I'm not sure if I'm judging this right. Apparently, I've proven (to myself) to be delusional on top of the multiple other things I am. But I try not to be sensitive about it. That's supposed to be funny in a very eyebrow-raising, passive-aggressive way because that's apparently one of the "things" I am. This is where I'll stop this morning.
(07/26/2023) I'm back here again, 10 days later. Well, at this time nearly 11 days later because it's 11:10 pm right now and I should make another effort at sleeping but there really is no point. It's not like school fixes my sleep schedule. Anyways, lately, I've obviously been thinking about the whole thing happening in the house right now with my aunt and uncle and I think I know how the situation could be handled best. In my opinion. I think (even if I think I actually did apologize before) I should just apologize for lying to them when I did and that's it. This whole thing would probably just go a lot smoother if I just left out my feelings and thoughts on everything because my opening up doesn't seem to be making anything better. But that also confuses me because everyone (by everyone I mean my aunt, uncle, and mom) used to ask me what was wrong and if I needed to would I be able to speak to them, things like that. They would ask me for my truth basically. And I mean, others (in the house) have expressed how they felt about how they felt and what they thought about the things they've said/done/say/do and it's always irrelevant in some way and just dumbed down and made it irrelevant as I said. And that's basically my reason for stone-walling my uncle (and aunt sometimes) when I did/do because since I've opened up, what I expected to happen happened. "My" truth doesn't matter here. I think talking about truth here makes this whole thing sound much more complex than it actually is. I thought what I've been saying was clear: that I still feel guilty about what I did and said about my aunt and about a couple of times I tried stealing money. But I'm still upset about all that because there was never any closure. Actually, it started coming back up. My aunt and uncle decided it was funny and started laughing about it one day. I'm not sure what exactly about it is funny, but they probably just did it because they're still hurt from what I did. I don't know. They don't remember it either. My aunt made a comment about it when she and I were in some conversation with my mom and started asking me if I had remembered what I'd done in a very mocking way, and I just told her I still felt bad, and she just responded asking me "Really?" You know, things like that.
It doesn't seem like the things I've heard they've called me when I was and wasn't around are relevant anymore because I wait so long to say something and just sit in resentment and anger which gives them time to be able to say they don't remember saying anything at all when I do finally build up some courage to say something about how I feel (when I figure it out at least). It's just that I'm happy that I've actually said everything I've been meaning to say for years now. I thought that was just some kind of delusional fantasy I would make up in my mind to repress how I feel and help me sleep at night. I'm happy that I can finally cut myself off from them but the only problem with this whole thing is that I'm supposed to feel bad for the things I've said. Why? I don't know. And it's not like I have anything else to think about. I moved in here when I was 9 with the promise we would move out (my mom and I) on and off for years and now I'm 18 and I'm living with them again. I don't have anything else to occupy me and when I am in school, I have to come back to the house.
Anyways, I think I'm rambling now. Overall, I don't understand why I believe the things people say that I am so easily. It's concerning. But it's only concerning for me, so nothing's going to change. I've looked through everything and I really have and still do believe I am an idiot and a bad influence on my little cousin. I do believe I am manipulative and selfish and sensitive. I do think I'm a scapegoat, but only because other people have said I was. How inaccurate can other people's perceptions of me be? Especially if they know me so well. I'm not saying that sarcastically; I'm being genuine. If they have been gifted with wisdom from their past mistakes, they can do no wrong. So, how inaccurate can the labels they give me be? I went to a new therapist once and one thing she said to me that's been re-playing in my mind recently is that I seem to feed into other people's narratives of me too much. But I don't know. At this point, it feels good to be shit. I mean it hurts a lot mentally and emotionally, but that is what makes it feel so good. Because that is what I seem to be living for: to live up to the expectations and fantasies of others and not do anything but. When I feel the best is when I hear others shit-talking me and when I am also talking shit about myself, like right now. When I'm being hurt verbally by myself or someone else is when I tend to feel the best. When I'm being gaslighted into thinking I'm delusional or over-dramatic and sensitive and then I go into this rage and then I get confused and then I get sad that my mind is where it's at and then I submit and start gaslighting myself is one of the best feelings. I'm not sure why. I'm genuinely concerned for myself. All of this is so easy to hide, it's really fascinating. I'm about to fall asleep on my keyboard, so that's all for tonight. It's now 11:45 PM.
(07/27/2023) As I actively try to kill myself, I also find myself clinging to split-second waves of hoping and dreaming that I'll live a life. I keep making these goals and plans to get a job, save up, and move into my own apartment in the next year or so but I'm also making plans to kill myself when I finish P.O.S.A.P so I can vicariously live through it when I kill myself the day it's published. So maybe that's a sign that I'm only trying to kill myself because I am sensitive. Because I can't really handle everything. But when I say that, or really, when I think that, I completely put the reasons (that I know what they are) of why I want to kill myself to the side. I just downplay myself before someone else can do it again so it won't really be a surprise, or you know "soften the blow" when the time comes. It's a really self-deprecating defence mechanism. I'm not proud, but I have no idea what else to do. I'd rather not react emotionally strongly when someone hurts me emotionally. I don't know. I keep saying that. It's starting to annoy and worry me. I'm not sure there's anything else I have to write about. Basically, I just don't know what I should do: write and publish P.O.S.A.P and then kill myself, or just live. I mean I don't know what the fuck I'd even do with my life after I graduate school, I'd obviously get a job, but would I even have the work ethic to keep my job? I'm lazy and useless. I could start a YouTube channel now (which I've really been considering doing) but YouTube seems to be getting more and more dicey when it comes to getting shadow-banned and getting strikes and banned and having your account deleted for violating some rule, even if you didn't. I'm not sure I got what I wanted to say down on paper clearly. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't; know I don't know I don't I don't Know I don't know I don't know I don't I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know I don't know. I can't look at the word "don't" anymore. I want everything I do to have some kind of deep meaning. Maybe it's because I have no meaning. I am just here, and I need to find other things that will give that to me. I need other things and other people to have a point for existing. That's all I'll write. My laptop is about to die.
(I added this photo from Pinterest because I thought it related to what I wrote about)
Last edited:
