hello! are you aware ?

i guess i just felt disappointed in how you didnt notice it at all , not even slightly , not even once. i think i cried more days than not when we were there. i turned almost completely quiet, shut off, and i wouldnt ever blame one for not knowing how to respond, my faults of not being able to communicate properly, as a human being, as a grown up, thse are fault only of my own, but its not the response i got, rather its the lack of any response at all. you truly didnt notice anything being off, and i am so divided in my feelings and thoughts, because on one part i completely understand your perspective, there isnt anything wrong with it, it makes sense, and i know this but , i clearly felt so disappointed and upset and thats the part of me i despise and want to reject profusely but all that loathing only makes it more stubborn and shout louder, i cant keep pretending this horrible flawed part of me isnt there and pray it will go away when ignored long enough. im still a child it seems and reading or writing fills me with contempt, the idea of showing kindess to that part of me, understanding, it just leaves me with more contempt, even whilst completely aware thats the only way to make it silent. to give it attention, when thats the last thing i want to do. it doesnt deserve it, but in order to be a decent human, i need to suck it up and show compassion so that i can finally become mature and be proper. but then, that kindness, it feels so plastic and cold, a degrading smile, since its all happening in my mind, id be aware of my intentions, aware of the fact that kindness isnt sincere, isnt for myself. its all so tiring. to go from despising to loving, how? i cant even understand anymore, give any grace- i have no reason for this seemingly hurt part of me. whatever. i went off trail, but yea, even now i cant really bring myself to talk to you about this. partly because of my aforementioned failure in communications, and mostly because it seems this feeling off disturbance and conflict in our relationship seems onesided. i dont want to bring up something when you are not even aware of said state of affairs. it feels more like id be creating a problem rather than mending. but at the same time , leaving something in the dark , neglected, will only leave it to grow ever so persistent and intrusiv

up until now, being 19 has been the most calm period of the usual dread and agony that shows up every so often to kindly remind me this part of me will not fuck off. maybe thats all the growing up and maturing i'll do, the heaviness is the same but i act and think less dramatic, i no longer think as egocentrically anymore. these emotions, thoughtpatterns, messed op working of the mind, numbness and the acceptance of life's baseline being "estranged from the world and myself, going through the motions and the line between reality and the dreamworlds of my mind is getting more blurry everyday, but my delusions that refrain me from traumatising a train operator are holding ever so strong (that itsself being a delusion) - im aware that this is not a solely unique thing anymore. ive long moved past that isolated way of thinking, and whilst that realisation offered some morbid comfort, its yet another fleeting moment above the baseline that now seems even more indistructable than ever. being 19, it just made me realise i genuinely am no longer a kid. ive already rambled about this point ad nauseam to myself, bored to death. it seems im srambling for a delusion of grandeur to cover up these persistent thoughts, trying to achieve stuff just to be able to say "im 19 and this is what ive done up until now." i doubt it will fix much, i think its rooted somewhere dark and cold and miserable and i just dont wanna go there i dont wanna face myself and do that all over again thats waaacccckkk. it just feels so heavy and all the rational words i keep throwing against myself, its to no avail really, as expected. for once again, this isnt a rational fear or emotion. i just. feel old. and as if its all too late. regrets too, a lot. of just, not doing shit. i feel like ive wasted so much of everything, of the life once in me. ill keep going as always, thats not really the problem, or maybe in a way it is. the teenage drama of it all, how it felt the world was ending after every minor inconvience, breakdowns feeling too heavy, thats no longer the case. but atleast it kinda felt like something, right. now i just feel a tad bit numb, nothing big yet, but it feels as if something crucial is missing, a core. i truly feel estranged, out of tune with myself or the world. i cry most days, but its just tears, and it doesnt feel ... i dont know it doesnt feel as if the one who is crying is me in the sense that the thoughts leading me to cry really arent that dramatic or upsetting, im not all that upset. once again i feel desperation to hang out with people as much as i can, go to all these places i havent been, but when i went on vacation a few days ago, that left me painfully aware of this aching hole, either because it woke me up realising that i cant outrun the problem causing all this wack nonsense (me) or because the aching got worse after feeling disillusioned with my bestfriend who i once again put on a Platonic pedestal (as in the dude plato). well, thats life or something. so wack. someone punch me in the face so that i become tyler durden or something.

all this time I felt so much pain thinking you’d simply didn’t care even whilst aware of the situation. i couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t talk to me , and concluded you’d simply found me a nuisance to your life, and whilst that last part may not be wrong, I have so much regret for not seeing you outside the perspective of my own suffering . I always looked up to you , you seemed invisible and as if your life was all under your control, it did not cross my mind once that you were struggling too. I could never read you properly, your face didn’t reveal much, I guess stoic would be a good description. You barely talked to me or at all in this house, I never had an accurate idea of who you were , what you thought and what you felt. the thought of how little I truly know you is indescribable. all I know is that I my perception of you was far from the truth, I didn’t have a lot of knowledge to work with so I filled in the blanks with my own loathing , which turned you into a person possessing such hate in your heart . once again, I was so stuck in my own head, that I didn’t even consider how unfair it was for me to judge your character that way, I did not give you the grace of having other reasons and intentions other than a deeply rooted disdain for a reason I didn’t understand. that projection might have morphed into a self-fulfilled prophecy , because i no longer longed for reconciliation with this idea of a person who hated me for no apparent reason. I started hating how you’d talk after an argument as if nothing happened, as if you hadn’t hurt me. not thinking I might have hurt you too. or the way you seemingly developed the skill of holding conversations when you were talking to your friends. i hated how it seemed you had it all figured out, a complete life, where i was put out of the frame. i didn’t attempt to talk anymore, not that I ever really did I suppose. whenever I’d talk, it seemed you didn’t care much, you wouldn’t reply or be annoyed. i began putting of the idea of communicating, we could barely hold a conversation about the weather, let alone about the cracks in our relationship. so I did the easy thing and avoided it, repressing any idea of trying to fix this and managed to believe giving up all hope was the better and easier option. now that ive left behind this idea of you, the person filled with unrestrained loathing has been replaced with something even more terrifying: complete emptiness. I don’t know who you are. I don’t think that is much of an overstatement. only now after all these years did I look past the mirrors surrounding me and seen you through another perspective. I feel so much uncertainty in my own judgement , i don’t know what is real anymore. and i cant help but think, even after all this, that now once it has been too late, you actually do hate me. and I once again cant muster up the courage to talk to you and withdraw like the coward I am. i don’t know where it went wrong, but it seems like it has been forever. Im being reminded unkindly by the memories of our shared past that Im wrong once again, and that there was once a time where you and I got along. i don’t know how to approach this and know that if I attempt to talk to you now , it wont change anything. no matter what I say. It seems you’ve made up your mind, but I don’t know. I don’t know anything really, but I do think youre a good person at the end of the day, and a strong person. and if you do decide to leave it all behind, it was nice knowing you for the first few years and im sorry for never considering your perspective and I hope youll move along swiftly past it all and forget. I hope in that case, I can forget it all too , since reminiscing feels like getting stabbed .

You know, I think xxx hates me. I think they really hate me. I always think back to this one vague memory. A shining, diamond clear blimp compared to all the hours I have lived up until now. I was quite young and it was a summer day, family was visiting I believe. I was in the garden, alone, in a plastic car for children to ride in. Next to me was another one of those, with no one occupying the seat calling for another soul. The garden door was open and I called out to my mother in the kitchen, asking for the whereabouts of xxx. She told me they'd had gone outside with the nephew or whoever. I started to imagine xxx next to me, an opaque version of them, in the car next to me, smiling. I teared up a little at the sight of it. It was incredibly silly yet I don’t ridicule the little girl in that memory. I ridicule the girl writing this passage, who still tears up every now and then thinking about this memory and thinking of a relationship I could have had. We always hold things so dear when they are so out of reach. You cannot help but look up to that which is above you, you start to adore it and imagine the warmth and joy you’ll achieve once you finally grasped that star hanging over you. In the time it takes you to grasp it, you start to ponder and daydream so much about it that it goes higher and higher. Sometimes you reach it and are met with an inevitable disappointment, realizing you have placed it much higher than it should have. Realizing the worth of that which you tried to reach, lay in the distance. And when that distance has been bridged, the worth is lost as well. Sometimes you don’t reach it yet it stays just in sight, above your teary eyes. A weight on your mind, always thinking of what could have been. In both cases, that which you believe would have brought you happiness and comfort, brings instead pain and sorrow.

(...) I started to get accustomed to that empty feeling, that gloomy way of going through life. In a world that was falling apart, indifferent to any desperate attempts of mine, I decided the best way of going was to find warmth in the cold familiarity of loneliness. I felt as if I was special and more educated about life’s pains by wearing black and by being aloof and cynical. I understood that this world was corrupt, that power was in the hands of the evilest men you could think of and that everyone was blind to it. I was simply too nihilistic and aware of the worlds troubles and fate that I could not connect with the average teenager. Instead of truly caring about these troubles and thinking what I could do in any way or form, I decided to make it about myself. Do not get me wrong, I still believe that we as humans are overdue in some weird way. The world is ending, but it has always been anyhow. We say that sentence and then go on, until the end of time. I don’t think we can change the fate of the world; I don’t think we ever could. We have to learn living with the fact that whilst reading, typing or eating, whilst breathing, our fellow man is dying in inhuman ways. We have to learn to live with the fact that everything we eat, that the paths we walk on, that the stuff we use, that all that comes from the soil made of human blood and tears. That there is no ethical consumption. We do it by making jokes about things that aren’t ours to joke about. We do it by making ourselves believe the brand we use is more friendly, when it only is less drops of an ocean of sacrifice and blood. We do it by talking about it to other people, believing we are spreading the word when we are only spreading emptiness in the words we carry, knowing we are not doing anything in the grand schemes of things. We do it by hiding under the blanket and doomscrolling (...).

placeholder thoughts on this one, coming soon.

placeholder thoughts on this one, coming soon.

placeholder thoughts on this one, coming soon.