mi jan unpa. unpa li ike ala. nasin unpa li pana sona e kon jan.

Sometimes I feel like I want to die. Sometimes I want to drown these feelings. Sometimes I want to feel.

"paracosm"

It's a facility of sorts, a room. It started small. It used to be so vivid, to come without effort.

I guess I should get this out of the way: I like mud. I like quicksand. I like clay.

Ultimately, I believe it stems from a want to not have control and a desire for touch. It's soft, it's in nature, in the earth.

Once you step into it, you're in its control. You don't know how deep it goes, but it slowly creeps up your legs and swallows you, squishing between your toes and locking you in place. Tight, like a full body hug, encased in the ground. Cool, thick, sticky, soft. The weight of it. The struggle, not knowing how long it will take to make it let you go. Sweating, every inch a sensuous victory.

I don't value my life very highly. Being taken by the earth would be a good way to go. No one would find my body.

Maybe I like it becuase it narrows your priorities. You can't worry about whether you're spending your time well or what you should be doing or have a crushing sense of anxiety and indecision if you physically can't move. There is one task and you can enjoy it. The scenery is nice too.

I tried "traditional" bondage for the first time today. I tied my wrist to my bed.

I don't know much.

There is nothing new under the sun. How fucked up aren't I? nasa a

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What.

Why.

Indeed. Those things are true. I am not a healthy person. Things don't feel pleasureable anymore. Sometimes I can. Sometimes even when I force stimulation, it doesn't get through. Bleach. What even am I doing? It feels finite. These are things I can't talk to my therapist about. I can't go in there to his face and say the ways in which I harm myself. Pleasure and pain both drown. Horseshoe. Pick your poison. There are so many factors to reconcile. I feel guilty because of the way I was brought up in my faith. I feel guilty because of how it breaks my mind. I feel guilty because of how I push the limits. It's like cancer but you have to pull the trigger yourself. Still terminal. it causes me pain. It's Sunday. I don't fit in this place. My thoughts cast me out of here. I guess I've adopted a pet. What is it? A parasite? That would make sense for some of the things it likes. What do I do? I don't want

Can you tell me what I'm supposed to do? Think of something new; nothing left to do. I don't want to think.

Hey, what can you say? We were overdue; it'll be over soon. It'll be over soon. We were overdue. What can I say? Hey.

I don't want to get better. I don't want to die. I want to escape. pakala. island arcs can ;t sav e m enowvb gh,bergwirt.g.wuogh.a

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helllo. aaaaaaaaaaa jan. aaaaaaaaaa olin. I just feel all brokwn. fuck. fuck. all character no personality. it feels sticky viscous with broken glass. fuck. I don't want to play the game of negative headspace anymmore. i'm not sure if anyone accesses this. I don't know why i write here. i don't want to feel ashamed by myself. i don't want to be afraid to be anyone. maybe I shouldn't put my name on this. sometimes i feel like i just don't want to risk being close to someone again

break down break down

we need caash

what happend to our stash?

i don't want to be the person somtimes i thik im fated to be even thoguh it seems like i am. i am

oh well. oh well oh well oh well. oh well. oh well oh well. oh well oh well oh well.

fukc. i could kill myself now. that's one option. I could keep myself in this hole of thinking i might. that might be the worst option. clinging to the past, feaaring the futur,e not seeign value in anything. lying. 2. i could make a home, hit myself with a stone, and learn how to clean up after myself. just fukckign gget it together fake it til you make it cold turkey just do it. theres 3. there are an unquantifiabe amount of options. I could do nothing. thats a choice. my throat hurts. sometiems i wish i cou;d drink but i think that would not be a good idea. can i turn myself into words? fit neatly on a page in rows and sentences and paragraphs. i think i might try. i just dont even know how to feel or that i want to

i just dont know what to do with myself

everyone is so hard in themself. i feel sick

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For both God and the world, you have to run away to not find the beauty in it. Unfortunately, it doesn't always feel voluntary. Pros: no decisions, no hormonal meat sack, no expectation, no stakes, no anxiety. maybe pain. no worries. Cons: no love, unknown, people would probab even in your own death you can't put yourself first; you might have made contribution(s) to the world sooner than otherwise may have been, paperwork--there really isn't a lot of personal loss or gain in this option--everything comes down to choices. that doesn't really fit my current lifestyle. I seem to be having tremendous difficulty with my life-style. i have to sleep so i can do something that I want to do.

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don;t want. goddammimt ;. fuck. i don't know how i could go through my whole life feeling liek this. Always feeling anxiety, feeling like a waste. Feeling like nothing will be worthy of the time I have. doing nothing. not hard.. ould xdie,. i dont fit in my future. I don't fit in my future. i ve just fallen into the liminal space between before and after. eaten by the void. missed the step. dragged along.

my friend. my friend.. wwhat have i done

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well hi. im scared of regretting my choices. nothing feels satisfactory. everything even hobbies or games or videos feel like a waste of time because they won't have an impact on the world. if i could enjoy them again and see value in investing in myself again. good. i could still just die. i don't know how to tell people who i am and who i am not. why. change. impact on other people. they would have to spend extra mental energy thinking about me? it would change our interactions. that would be new and scary and unpredictable and uncomfortable.

I want to briefly return to the opening topic: It takes control. It's like someone holding you so tight you can't move. You are wanted and you have no choice but to accept. Thank you.

I wish it were so easy to make facts feeling. To know that a way of thinking, a mental state, is malicious and to be able to replace it. update the software. replace the part.

i don't know what to do. sometimes i wish i were more oblivious to problems. i could have a notion and pursue it without thinking it through and roll with the punches, go wherever the winds blow.

I want to reflect more on how my father might think. He might think the same way I do now: Have strong feelings of 'should' or worry, know that something needs to be done, but not be able to pursue that. Be paralyzed and functionally apathetic. to be burdened with problems and worries but not have the will to address them with action. He got it in his head over years of marriage that he was poisonous, started to feel out of place again, wanted to not exist, so strived to isolate himself, not have vulnerable personal connections. insecure. insecure. insecure. he didn't know how he had done so much in the past, not believing he was that capable, to get married, to become a doctor. Maybe he's just selfish. It hurts. He's not happy in any case. Coming back would be too big of a change. He got to where he is by comparatively small 'easy' changes. Maybe he thinks if he keeps going out on the waves, one day he won't come back. how did we get here? we're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year; running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears. wish you were

none of this makes sense to me. it feels like somewhere along the road i was dropped into someone else's life. maybe it was around dagny. love grew me up. it doesn't feel right to picture myself being who i am now, doing the things i do and saying or writing the things i say. was he trying to find a place where he wouldn't have to change? be a slave to his job and wife? have money, enjoy surf, serve job, serve wife. i don't understand where i fit into his picture. i don't understand. i don't know how to feel good about my choices; to walk one path and not imagine a life on the other. to not always have the urge to turn back. it keeps me stuck. i live in the past and i don't fit in the future. i got off at the wrong station and i'm a train behind. there was a time when all i wanted was my ice cream colder and a little cream soda oh well. and all i had to care about was a wooden box and an alley full of rocks oh well oh well. now my mind is filled with forest fires and rubber tires and whether i'm a liar and lots of other situations where I don't know what to do at which time God screams to me "there's nothing left for me to tell you" nothing left. nothing left. oh well oh well oh well.

not really contributing aythign meaningful. what are you doing with your life. just kill yourself. no more choices. on Christ the solid rock i stand; all other ground is sinking sand, all other ground is sinking sand.

fuck.

wile moli li ken wawa. wile awen o moli e ona. taso nasin 'awen' li awen e ike e pona. o ante e awen. sina wawa.

sleep is a form of change. it makes a new day, brings you into the future.

omekapo

i feel guilty every time my grandma talks about my dad because i can picture it being me. i take the attack of the things she says in the part of me who I don't want to be and the part that worries for that.

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i have a new feeling.

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fuck.

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grrrrrrrrrrr. angry. they both make me sick. i hate myself.what an awful feeliing. i remember why I live the way i do even though it makes me feel shit. fuck. im tired. spineless and weak. her actions hurt me. her inaction hurts me. i want to kill myself. i wake up every day and do the same shit. none of it makes a difference. why suffer. i dont know what the fuck im doing. i wish someone would notice and beat some sense into me. this fucking sucks. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaawhtu0[9 ;otlrhkip'phow Tgpw'hi;sothgbw'pg'sov sógo'pw;hg eghiwso;5gi slxj rgi;rhj' o9hT i sr

I WANT TO BLEED