Cut

Warning, this will get pretty bleak and is an ongoing writing.

I think as far as adults problems go, this is easily the dumbest. Literally my one objective here is to do nothing and I have failed several times over. Ugh. I think the worst part is knowing why I do it, what makes me do it, and the psychology behind it, but still doing it.

Growing up catholic with two pro-corporal punishment parents likely planted seeds in me that pain was the only way to make things right. While I would eventually part ways with religion, and my parents would stop after a certain incident went wrong, the association I had with my own pain making things "right" never really left. Ninth grade was the last time I practiced that. But I was fully in control and could still stop when I wanted, and I did for some time.

2020 was when this habit was ressurrected. It took a few attempts but I finally found a tool that would suit me. The cause was my job. Since leaving Sonic, I haven't returned.
December 24th, 2020. My painting of life has had its blots of dark moments, but I know for a fact that this was the worst day of my life. When the news broke, I took a glass bottle, shattered it, and used the sharpest remains on myself. When the glass wasn't doing the job, I took my cheap utility knife and started again. I didn't want to be alive at that moment. I thought I had more time.

2021 was a pretty bad year as far as years go. I went through two suicide attempts and most of my prominent scars showed up here. I don’t talk about my attempts much because like, why would I spring that on someone. It didn’t work so what’s the point? Just to make someone feel bad? No thank you. To show them that I'm so incompetent, I failed at the same thing twice? Taking a raincheck there. I think around this time my eating disorder was nearly done but all in all I was a wreck. I kept the worst of the details to myself at that time. None of my friends knew, none of my family knew. The only way someone could have found out was by decoding my 2020 self-portrait.
Of the few people that did know, two were very supportive of me getting better and one told me to grow up, specifically after I relapsed.
I remember eating my thanksgiving food alone in my room and also hurting myself. It wasn't the same without grandpa. I didn't want to be here without him.
Around Christmas time I made sure to buy plenty of asprin and razor blades. I then made sure the shower was nice and hot to get the full effect. This actually hurt, like a lot, but its what I deserved. The pain meant it was working.

I made it a New Year’s resolution for 2022 not to cut anymore. January and February tend to be oddly stressful for me and i was close to failing early on. I kept this mostly on the down-low. I told a few people I really trusted about it. Something about being told, "I'm so proud of you," over that nearly brought me to tears. Why am I like this?
One day I went into a Lowes and noticed some nice looking Dewalt utility blades. I bought the knife and blade and the power of it could make a dent in parts that were prviously too tough. I shouldn't have bought the knife, but it made sense at the time. If I was going to do something wrong, I still wanted to do it at a high level.
There was a point in the year where my backpack that I got for my birthday was stolen. I emptied most of its contents earlier at work but several sentimental items had gone missing. As a very sentimental person, this was probably one of the worst things that could happen. My sketchbook was gone. I documented all the good doodles so it wasn't that big of a deal. A book I borrowed was gone. This made me feel pretty terrible because I never ever want to be the kind of person who borrows things and leaves it worse off. What hurt me the most was losing this little sculpted face thing my best friend made me. Perhaps hurting myself wasn't the best response, but it was the only thing I had control over.
By the end of 2022 I was still hurting myself. It was new years, I was in the company of friends, and I still couldn’t help it. Someone knew I had snuck the knife my way and was about to stop me but didn’t want to cause a huge scene, especially since she wasn’t 100% sure I actually snuck the knife. It wouldn’t have been enough to stop me if she pursued. I felt I needed this and needed to do as much of it as possible before I stopped. It made sense when I did it. I'm a terrible friend and I did not deserve their company during that party.

I made it a New Year's Resolution, again, to not cut for 2023. January and February were hard to get through again. My close friends were super happy for me making it past the 100 day mark.

In June, I had a particularly scary attack. I don't know what triggered it but all I could think of was pouring gasoline on myself and lighting myself on fire. That was all I could think about at work and the thought wouldn't go away. Eventually, desire grew more detailed. I knew which gas station I would go to, what card I would use, and where I would light myself. I was thinking my room, my bed is so comfortable, I think I would enjoy it. Somehow, I talked myself down to something less severe, cutting. Just the arms. There isn't a shortage of long sleeve shirts at my disposal so hiding would be easy. No one has to know, no one needs to know. It's fine, really, am I not allowed to do what I want with my body? I'm not sure what compelled me to do this but I told my best friend. I spared her the severity of the details and only brought up how I was close to reaching, "day 0." She really had my back that day. If not for her, I'm pretty sure my arms would be covered in scars at this point. The crazy thing is, I did attempt to reach out to other people to no avail.

This whole week, 09/17/23, I've thought about it. I've thought about doing it and maybe more. I know there was a weird moment Sunday where I made my peace with the idea and found the perfect spot to jump. Renee snapped me out of it at the last minute. Would I have done it? I really don't know. I was surrounded by the best people in the world and I still wanted to end it. I'm terrible. The thoughts went away the rest of that Sunday but the week didn't fare too much better. I don't want to bother my friends with this. They deserve someone who isn't constantly malfunctioning. I just need to be alone. I can't be seen like this.

Suddenly my mind feels a bit more clear. I went to several plant sales, ran five miles, dropped my cousin off at the airport and listened to the new Doja Cat album. This sequence of events is entirely out of order. I feel like a different person. Its like the person who found no other option but to self-harm has left the room. I wonder how long he will be gone? Somehow my brain has fully convinced me to not tell my friends when it gets bad. I hope they don't think I'm ignoring them. I just need to be alone.
My mood seems to have stabilized, for now. At the height of its instability, I was ready to avoid my friends for the rest of the year. I was also going to harm myself again and just not tell anyone. I don't like the idea of ever holding people responsble for my mental health or assuming someone is there to "fix" it. However, its also clear to me that I cannot fix it by myself nor can I afford to seek treatment of any kind. Pandora's box is already open so my friends know. I used to see that as a bad thing, because how irresponsible can it be to not only reveal that information, but also admit to still being "there." How cruel, how awful. Despite this, I guess I'm getting better. I'm also seeing a concert today with my best friend instead of self-isolating and wishing I had the nerve to end it so you know, things aren't all bad.

10/04/23 What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you fucking say that? You even knew to never do that. Are you fucking retarded? You must be to say that to the most important person in your world! I don't care if she asked. If its something like that you keep your fucking mouth shut! Fuck you! You deserve less! Go cut your ugly body and be an anti-social piece of shit somewhere else. I fucking hate you, I want you gone, you're not worth preserving! Do your friends a favor and kill yourself. Your c-grade art is not worth the trouble of staying around. They were right you know, your scars are ugly, you are ugly, and no one in their right mind could ever love you.Your friends can't wait forever for you to get better, whatever that means. Grab the utility blade and do it. DO IT! DO IT YOU FUCKING COWARD!!! I'M NOT ASKING! DO THE ONE THING YOU'RE ACTUALLY GOOD AT AND SELF-DESTRUCT!!
During a run I stopped by the tracks, waiting for the train to clear. I went closer and closer until I was five feet away. I wanted it. Under Pressure was playing and something about the last verse hit me. I won't type it out but it made me think that if I did it, everyone would know instantly. Even if I do 100% deserve it, and I do, there is something cruel about letting the news echo to everyone. It needs to be quiet, I do not deserve attention. I do not want to hurt people anymore. How do you eliminate a deep sickness quietly?
Renee is having a big picnic next week. I do not want to embarass her and her friends with my lowly presence. Surely they'll have plenty of art to go around without me. I have nothing to contribute because I am a sickness. How do you cure a sickness?

They were right about everything. I am disgusting, my scars are repulsive, I am undeserving of love and warmth. I couldn't even hug Renee because I felt so repulsed in my own body I didn't want to disservice her by making any sort of contact. I don't know how I can continue to live like this. Things have gotten worse. Am I going to make it to 2030? I don't know. I can't be with people, I can't be by myself. I can't keep living like this. Finish the super projects, then see if you still want to kill yourself. Frankly, you should so the world can move on sooner but clearly these modes of friction are stopping you from continuing. Finish the projects and then we can think about setting you on fire, or jumping off the bridge, or whatever crazy flavor of the week thing you have in mind. You really shouldn't have cancelled that one project you pathetic fucking faggot.

10/16/23 My mind has finally started to clear up for the first time in what feels like months. It might have something to do with Stef's magic chocolate. This was also our first time we've hugged. I didn't have enough time to refuse it but the inclination to refuse was also not there. It felt nice, and I felt happy to have someone as wonderful as her in my life. I never took it for granted, but my resolve feels somewhat strengthened.

10/26/23 The urge to cut hasn't resurfaced since eating the chocolate. What the heck did she put in it?

11/12/23 Since that incident in August, I can hardly look in a mirror without being filled with those thoughts. They were the only person I trusted enough to see the scars and for them to say what they said. Feels bad man. People I love have a weird way of hurting me the worst. If I can make more of myself become less, I think that would make me happier overall. That and doing a mass purge of my room, which oddly parallels the same issue I feel about my body. Those are the last remaining impedements to my mental clarity. To amend a previous thought/statement I had, in a vacuum, I'm okay with hurting and even killing myself. I see nothing wrong with it because it is my choice and my body and I can do whatever I want with it. However, I do not exist in a vacuum, or on an island. There are people I love and who I assume care about me to some extent and even if they are okay physically, it does hurt them to see me do what I do to myself. The solution is not to kill myself where no one can find me and be listed as missing, nor is it to die with the most attention given possible. Rather, the goal is to get better, that's what would make everyone the most happy, myself included. I feel like I'm better off than I was in 2020-2022, and maybe I'll get better soon.

11/23/23 The thoughts are back. I need to cut. I need to cut all of the imperfections. This disgusting form deserves it and that is all it deserves. I can't stand to look at myself, or hear my voice. It needs to die. How does my extended family not throw up in disgust when I'm present? NO ONE SHOULD SEE ME!

12/??/23 December has usually been a rough month for my mental health and this served no different. Again, I was close to doing it. Hostile messages were sent my way begging to see me and be forgiven. I should block them but I can't. Reading these messages are the closest thing I can get to self-harm without doing it. This is about what happened in August. I hope my life ends with no noise so I can stop embarrassing the people in my life. I wish my physical form didn't exist. I wish only for my art and ideas to remain, but not me.

01/01/24 Somehow, some way, I made it. A large part of it is thanks to Stef. When I start to spiral, my mind convinces me that its fine to hurt myself because no one will know and no one will care, its fine. Its a delusion in the literal sense where I believe something that factually isn't true. However, Stef has been the one thing that has actually broken through this web of delusion that pops in sometimes. Despite how hard my brain works, it cannot convince me that she doesn't care about me and wouldn't be hurt if I relapsed. Snort, the action figures, her heartfelt texts, the seashell, the robot, the sculpted face, the voodoo donut, all of her music recommendations, the art she shares and photos from her walks, going to The Barbie Movie in pink, her sharing vegan chocolates. There is a person that cares and its her, and that's made all the difference when it comes to me pulling out my knife and going at it. I don't know how to express how grateful I am that I have her in my life but I am. I suppose the ultimate form of that is getting better. Concert tickets also work haha.

01/28/24 The mom of the person who told me how disgusting my scars are, how fat and out of shape my body is, how annoying it is to deal with someone who is always in some state of broken, the mom of that person, she called to apologize. She hasn't heard from me in some time. Her kid used to always bring me up at least once in passing. She eventually asked them if something happened and said she was appalled that they could do such a thing. I still feel I deserve every bit of it but she apologized nonetheless. She's always been good to me. I could never hold hard feelings to her. Is it weird to express that I always felt grateful that she's accepted me for who I am? My own parents don't know and will never know. Maybe I saved a lot of embarassment there. They were never that accepting of my cetain lifestyle choices, but she always showed me unconditional love, even now. Love is strange.
Since going vegan I've lost about ten pounds. My mood seems to brighten when I see the numbers go lower. I probably shouldn't think that way given I used to have an actual eating disorder but whatever, let me have this. There's a small chance I can meetup with a childhood friend but I can't have him see me like this. I can't have anyone see me like this. The August incident has agitated an already terrible situation regarding my self-image to the point where I can't even do a proper self-portrait. Only a metaphorical kind or something that beats around the bush of my hideous face and revolting figure. When I'm at a mirror I can only focus on bits and pieces, I cannot look at the whole right now. Even photos taken with and by my best friend, I can't look at them, its too much. If I can keep up this pace of cutting away all of this imperfection, maybe I might get better so I can see my friends again.
While the cutting issue seems resolved, I genuinely don't know if I want to live that long. It sucks that the one out that I planned can no longer be enacted so if I was to finally be at peace, I would need an entire new plan. Time will tell what that might be. My friends won't be alone, I know that much, that puts my mind at some ease. My brain is a moth that constantly wants to light itself on fire.

02/07/24 Mood has been spiraling down at a destructive and rapid pace. Every day has felt worse than the last and I haven't experienced anything close to happiness in over a week. I don't like going for the arms but in three days I just might do that. My repulsive stomach is long overdue to be sliced. I don't want to involve my friends or anyone for that matter. I can't keep getting their hopes up like this, or worrying them. They must be sick to death already that I'm going through another episode. I don't see a light at the end of the tunnel. There's only one way out. I don't want to bother my friends for one more second about this. They have enough on their plate without this. At least it won't be a surprise when it happens.

02/10/24 I wish I could write more about my birthday, but in regards to this story, I had to tie a loose end from August. Normally, if I sour on someone, I can block them and move on like nothing happened. I can't seem to pull the trigger with this person. The only way to end things would be during one of the few times a year we actually meet up. I expressed I had no interest in seeing them this year for my birthday but they said they would be coming out anyways at our usual spot. I took the bus and walked to our meetup spot. Their eyes lit up with excitement when they saw me and approached me with open arms. God, it hurt me to do what I had to do next. I'm a real hater, and I do enjoy seeing people I hate suffer. However, I don't hate this person, but I also no longer hold a feeling resembling love towards them. I cut off their advance for a hug and cut straight to business. For my own good, we can't see each other anymore. We can't be a thing anymore. They got me the closest to relapse out of everyone in my life including adversaries and my dumbfuck brother. They restarted certain habits I had back when I had an eating disorder. I actually felt somewhat good about my body last year and they ruined that. I can barely see my friends because of this self-disgust they helped manifest. For someone I loved, or thought I loved, they hurt me in a way only someone I loved could hurt me. As I continued to tell them how they affected me, I could see the hope slowly dim from their eyes. The part of me that loved them wasn't here anymore. This was it, they would no longer contact me. It was over. The cab ride home was silent. Graciously, the driver picked up that I wasn't in the talking mood. A very nice message was left on my phone and that was enough to somewhat settle my burnt nerves and rest.
I feel embarassment and disgust for the future I thought we could have had. I feel cold and this is the feeling I must sit with for the time being.

02/18/24 I saw Renee today. I made her a gift for her birthday and I finally have the oppurtunity to give it. She's the first person I actually told about the August incident in some detail, albiet vague detail. For what little I told, it was also felt like a huge weight has been lifted off my chest. It also helps that she has a way with words. I also told her why I couldn't hug her back in October to which I was able to rectify. It also breaks my heart to hear about this stupid disease she has. She's too sweet and smart and wonderful for this. From our talk, it looks like this year's super project will be leaning towards that subject. It will be difficult but I will make it work.

02/21/24 Its happening tomorrow. I can't hold out any longer. I deserve this, there is no getting better, this has always been an inevitability. I'm sorry I couldn't be stronger.
Update: I never told Stef about this and yet somehow she interfered. Her and Chryss and near the end, Julien? Jool? Juul? Anyways, today has uplifted my spirits to a degree where I think I will be safe, for now. Initially, I planned to cut at 2/22/24 at 2:22 am. I'm weird about numbers. My brain has gotten very good at making sure I don't reach out at all. While I don't want to treat my friends like unpaid therapists, I also think they should know on some level what's going on. At least, the really close ones.
Regarding my deactivated accounts. When I'm about to relapse, or severely hurt myself, I usually shut down my social media pages. The few times I didn't I worried a lot of people by posting all the asprins and blades I was purchasing and that really wasn't cool. Plus its embarrassing to have to explain it later. Like jeez, if you're going to allude to suicide at least have the decency to stop posting. Also, if the worst happens, I don't want people to have easy access to my art. Selfishly, I want that to die too. When I spiral my mind gets really destructive. Before I reactivate it, there's a few things I need to do. For starters, I need to fix my ugly disgusting body into something I can look at. I also need to have some art ready, duh. Also, I don't know how expensive this might be or where I would even do this but I kind of need to get diagnosed. I used to see a therapist growing up but it wasn't helpful because I had a strict guideline of what I could and couldn't said which gave inaccurate readings and inaccurate help. This is going to be tricky because my parents cannot know and my brother especially cannot know. I just need to see what's wrong with my head so I can fix it. Currently I'm in a state of clarity so I can see that this isn't normal and I can't do this again. I got so lucky this time that Stef pulled me out of this spiral but I can't just rely on well-timed intervention forever. Of course, its unlikely I will actually see a professional given how things are these days but I will at least try to search for one before I call it quits. Ewwwww, I hate treating my physical form like its deserving of compassion.

03/21/24 Last month we dropped my abuela off at the airport so that she may go back to Honduras. Being at the airport is really, REALLY harsh on my brain so for the several hours I was stuck there the only thing I could think about was cutting my arms. I don't even need a knife, my nails would suffice. The scars would be more ugly but is there really a pretty scar? My stomach argues the negative. I also thought that it was nice that she got to see me before I irreversibly ruin myself somehow. Then I thought how I shouldn't think like that. Lots of thoughts all around. That was in February, and that was the last time, so far, I thought about self-harm.
Last month was my birthday. I spent the start of it at Gumby's pizza and tried to invite some people. Naturally, a lot of my friends were busy so they let me know. No hard feelings. Two however, I was rather close with in the past. They didn't confirm the invitation nor decline it, they did a third worse option. They left it on read. That did really hurt me last month. While I'm mostly over it now, once I reactivate my social media, I'm going to have to slowly dissolve them out. I don't think I'm asking too much for a yes or a no with something like this. I don't need a reason, but man, I thought you guys were cool.
I chatted with my ex a few days back an it may have been a mistake. When I reach a mental low point, my resistance to these things tend to go down. It started as a text, just to check up on me, see how I was doing. There didn't seem to be any reason to keep my guard up so I engaged. During our call I asked them what they did after that hotel lobby incident. Why did I ask that? They said walked up to the room, alone. They passed by one of the old staff members who basically saw us grow up here. Usually we would chat with them or say hi but given their distressed composure, no such chat was had on either end. They didn't bother to turn on any of the lights. They walked to the balcony and looked at the city beneath them. They thought about our previous nights spent together talking about our dreams, future, and other such things on this balcony. They thought about the quiet mornings where we would say nothing but enjoy each other's company as the sun rose. They thought about how much they missed me and how empty this all felt, alone. For the remainder of the night, they just laid on the bed and imagined I was there. There's a more detailed list of what else they thought but a lot of it so sickeningly romantic and sweet and nice that it would totally wreck my street cred if I wrote it out. When our call was closing out they hit me with the three special words that honestly, still did nothing for me these days. I paused for a moment to figure what I would say instead and that's when I heard them say, "its okay, you don't have to say I love you anymore." I shouldn't have taken that call.
I spoke with my super ultra mega best friend and naturally, she had some insightful things to say that I hadn't quite considered. Again, I hate self-compassion and self-love. Or rather, it still makes me uncomfortable at this point in time. However, in absence of that one person who I previously showered an endless amount of love towards, why don't I try that for myself. I really, really had not thought of that, but you know what, it could work. It may be hard to seperate the part of me that feels I deserve to die (and worse). However, the alternative is continuing down the same path which by all means, is a path made of quicksand. I think from here on out I will make an effort to be less derogatory towards myself. For archival purposes, my previous writings will remain unchanged, but from here on out I won't type or write out how I really feel about myself. Ewwwwwww, self-compassion feels weird.

03/30/24 This has been a pretty stressful week. Whenever I get really stressed out that one tendency seems to build. I think about it all the time. I visualize where I will go, how deep, how much force to use, how it will look when its done, how to hide it, which knife to use (Dewalt of course), and the sensation when I finally do it. Its genuinely exhuasting to keep holding this back. Its getting difficult, so so difficult. Stef's birthday is coming up and I feel that would kill the vibe if it happened any time before or during that so I'll try to hold off a little longer.

04/03/24 Emergency trip to see Deerhoof. If I focus all my energy driving to Denton and back, maybe I won't light myself on fire or cut my arm or my stomach. I invited Stef at the very last minute but I secretly hope she doesn't come because I don't want her to see me like this. Something needs to change.
Update: The concert was fantastic. Deerhoof's final song shredded so hard I thought the stage was going to catch on fire. Satomi did the cutest little dances while playing guitar. SHe also signed and drew cute pictures on my shirt. I bought a zine from them. The zine discusses their view and the idea of noise. Interesting stuff. Deerhoof has a very unique sound to them and that is very intentional. I'm so thankful for Deerhoof in general. During one of my depressive episodes, their album, "Actually, You Can," helped lift me from that slump. They came to Austin in December but I was broke. So glad I had a second chance in some form.

04/13/24-04/14/24 I'm going to preface this by saying I will not be writing about my ex from this point forth. If anything, previous parts of this long entry will be quietly erased.
Throughout the week, the thought's about self-harm has not only resurfaced, but it stayed for a long while, getting more aggressive the more I resisted it. I hate hate hate hate how my mental exhaustion with trying to resist this habit has also translated to physical exhaustion as well. I should be tired from exercise, doing chores, making art, research, singing badly to my favorite music. Not the literal act of attempting to do nothing. Do you know how demoralizing that feels? These feelings were getting bad but a phone call was about to make things worse. I knew, I just knew if I left the door open, they would come in. I didn't have the mental energy to deal with this anymore. Granted, the call was antagonstic in any way and they were quite receptive to my issues, I just couldn't continue to speak to them. They are not responsible for my poor body image, my suicidal tendencies, or any other maladapted quirk I have, so I won't hold them to that. However, by reopening and worsening a lot of wounds in August, my headspace has been damaged in a way where I legit cannot resume normal connection with them without causing great damage to myself. So, I relayed the info to them. I owe them that much, right? If they love me as much as they say they do, then there is no other way for me to get better without a more substantial break. Before hanging up, they requested a song, or rather, they wanted to sing me a song. I'm leaving several details of the call out but I'm not composed, my voice is shaking and I'm trying as hard as I can not to cry because when one tear comes out, they all fall down. I allowed the song. The song was, "You'll Never Know," which was prominently used in The Shape of Water, our movie. A movie we used to hold hands watching, we would do the little sign language bits to each other, in the first few viewings I actually got super emotional and then they got emotional seeing me get emotional and we both cried quietly like two lovesick dorks. I used to hum that song at work, sing it on my walk home, sing it while I made them breakfast, play it while we had picnics, play it during our car rides, and I even made them a card or two with the words expressing how much I loved them. I remember I used to watch videos on how to make eggs look like a smiley face like they do in cartoons and I practiced endlessly to perfect the craft for them. The look on their face when I finally made it right was one of the most rewarding things in my life at that point. Because I loved them and I like to do nice things for people I love. As previously stated in this essay, I can get delusional, especially when someone claims to love, let alone care about me. It took me longer than it should have but I eventually surrendered to their love. When I think about this transition between ambiguity and certainty regardig their feelings for me, this song is never far. This song was probably the most loaded song they could have sang, and they sang it perfectly. When they finished, they gave a cute little, "well, how did I do?" I told them they did good, but I have to hang up now. I don't know if they love me anymore. I have felt certain about that in so long. Writing this out feels like self-harm. I couldn't remain in the house like this. My nerves were on fire so I did the only thing I could and ran. I ran and ugly cried and tried not to think about anything to great failure. My brain then started to rationalize where I could cut, and how deep. Why fight it? This is who I am? To who's benefit is it that I don't lose a little blood and a little skin? Its my body isn't it? Its not like I'm hurting anyone important or someone I care about. I was in a long, miserable, losing state. When I got home, my stupid fucking brother was in the front, high and presumably drunk again, as usual. When he's using substances, he forgets I fucking hate him and he talks to me. And my reward for not being a piece of shit is sometimes I have to listen. I've previously stated that I didnt hate him but that's a lie. I hate everything about him. The fact that I have to live with this fucking loser makes me want to kill myself and hearing him talk, even worse. This talk was the last straw. If I was going to be trapped like this I at least wanted it on my terms. Then I thought about how many days I hadn't cut. Then I thought I should contact Stef. My brain told me not to annoy her but for just a moment, I was able to bypass that and reach out for help. The rational being, even if this did annoy and piss her off, she would probably prefer to know BEFORE I did it and not after. I didn't even want to bother her so I was just seeking distractions. All I can say is that she really came through for me that day. This was probably the closest I've come to a relapse and she like 100% had my back. What did I do to end up with this unequivocally wonderful force of good in my life? I don't know. I can't let this second chance go to waste.

04/21/24 After that attack, I've been reorganizing certain parts of my life to deter another attack like that from happening again. It seems to be working, but there's a lot of work to be done.
Lots of introspection was done at the art event. Various questions were written on mirrors and there was a lot to think over. Also it looks like having to see my reflection for an extended period of time will send me to spiral into a panic attack so that's cool.

04/22/24 Stef got me a gift. I will cherish this gift forever! Where I ride, this special gift will ride! I know if I was alone I would sob with joy but I didn't want to freak Stef out so I kept myself contained.

05/02/24 The life insuarance has been cancelled. Back when project sunset man was set to 100% go off, I had this in place as a bit of a gift to my two closest friends. Gift? Consolation prize? Maybe its a massive apology? Given my own personal view of myself, I think thousands of dollars of cash is more than fair for the ability to never hear from me again. A glowing net positive if you will. Hell, if there was a button to wipe my existence out and I get a free coupon to see The Shape of Water in a nice theater I would take it. I'm rambling lol. I just want the people I leave behind to have a little something nice. Both recipients have expressed that they would much rather have me not be dead than to have the money. I guess that makes sense, but my brain has a difficult time convincing me so. They both don't have a shortage of friends let alone artist friends, there are powerful algorithims that can share music that would likely resonante more than my curations, the money from this would eclipse anything I could give on my own, and the internet has more black comedy than I could ever produce. I feel I could easily be outsourced worst comes to worst. I always felt like they deserve better if not the best. Why do I have such a hard time believing there are people who like me for who I am? Anyways,much like cancelling project sunset man, cancelling the life insurance is not a guarantee I won't kill myself. This is all a gamble. However, lately, I feel it's a gamble that has had better odds than ever. I have a more clear vision of what I want, how to get there and who I want to be and I have the best people in my corner. I think things will be okay. I just need to let certain things breathe. I think it also helps that I'm at the part of the depressuve episode where I'm mad that I let things get this bad so I'm working hard to fix things. Some people don't get that. I must use this gift while I can.

05/07/24 Totally unrelated to my cutting issue but oh my god. At first I thought I was getting stupid because I've simply been unable to finish this James Baldwin book, Just Above My Head. Great book by the way, beautiful and life changing as usual. Anyways, turns out that book is just dense in the literal sense and metaphorical sense. That being said, when I read anything else, I can actually zip through the pages like magic. I feel so invigorated reading new stuff! This is incredible!
Recently I've had a bit more of a breakthrough by imagining the person I want to be. It sounds like the most stupid and obvious thing in the world but I can actually see this person and I think I know how to get there. Its only a matter of time. There's still several aspects of myself I hate, but a spotlight is on them and rather than kill the entire being, it is these aspects that must go. They must be cut.

05/24/24 Still riding that post-Cheekface high. I had a great time. I was beyond exhausted though since I had been working on this quilt since getting home, went to bed by 3 am, woke up at 7:40 (thanks Renee haha) and then between eating and the occasional break, I was nonstop working on it until 6:10. Between that and all the energy drinks my nerves felt a bit fried. I feel so fortunate that me and Renee's friendship didn't die in 2023 as the forecast has shown.
A weird revelation I had lately came from hearing Genesis Owusu's song, "Don't need you." The black dog is his metaphor for depression and in the song, he has this moment of clarity where he realizes, hey, I don't even like you, why am I even listening to what you have to say? And I guess from hearing that, it made me reflect on how antgonistic my brain can be and that when its not being helpful, I should just leave it on read.

06/28/24 (545 days) This is going to be an unorganized ramble, leave me alone lol. Its taken me a bit to process what's transpired this week. Its a lot to take in. Renee doesn't feel comfortable being my friend anymore and views the dynamic as unhealthy. When I first read the news at my desk, it took everything I had not to sob at work. My mind started to spiral and I started to think about hurting myself again. An alternate solution came to mind so I'll be good for now. I don't want to ruin the hard work I put in. In a weird way, and it disgusts me to say this, I think I'm starting to value my overall wellbeing more. I want to be better. At around ten I sent a response to Renee and unfollowed her from my main instagram. I don't have the heart to unfollow or remove her follow from my spam so I have to wait until she makes her move. Stef, bless her soul, made sure to check in with me. I will say, I am just so,so embarrassed that she even had to text her. Initially, I really didn't want to talk about it with anyone, but from our call, I guess deep down I really did. I'm so fortunate to have her. I also like that she actively challenges the bad part of my brain that hates me and also thinks I am undeserving of Renee and will never find someone like her again while I'm all too dispensible. I still need more time to process this. Since the summer after eighth grade I've considered her to be my best friend. Sure, she got bumped to seconnd place on April 15th 2022, but second is still pretty good tbh. Every single year, since I could remember, I've wished her a happy birthday. Even during that tumultuous time 2022-2023 when I told myself not to do it, to have some self-respect, I still did it. I used to vent way too much to her but I didn't want to kill our friendship so I stopped and tried as hard as possible to deal with things on my own and just keep things to myself overall. It worked for the most part, even if it did close me off way more. I was kind of hoping we could be friends forever. I care about her, love her even in like a, "you're a super important person to me and I only want the best for you and if you hurt then I hurt" type of way. My affinity for her used to be unhealthy but I worked hard on that. I have other friends now, good friends. I never wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. God, I just want to crawl in a hole and never be seen again. I don't think I can even speak to Mr. T again. He's going to be so dissapointed that I ruined things. I can't. I don't know how to be a better friend for her. How do I stop being the worst of me? I remember before I left her apartment, I gave it one good look before leaving because somehow I knew it would be the last time.

I had a nightmare about her. I was at a cafeteria eating. An Angel Olsen concert was that day and I needed to kill time. When I look up, I see the tables are full of Renee's friends. They try to look away from me. There's looks of shame, everyone is uncomfortable and wishes I would leave. Even the people I thought I was on good terms with seem to no longer like me. At the very far end is Renee, she looks disappointed. I feel my whole body tighten, I feel stressed and I can't breathe. I throw my food in the trash and quickly head out so I won't disappoint anyone anymore.
Since our friendship has ended, another depressive episode has triggered. This is the worst I've felt since my grandpa died. Everyday my mood is dragging on the one scale and I feel so suicidal that if my previous attempts didn't go awry I would have attempted already. She can't know about this. She can't know that I would react this way. That would be unhealthy. Nothing brings me joy, and the few high spots I get crash rapidly. A relapse in eminent, where no one can stop it. I'm letting a horrible evil back in my life and I will deserve this.

I had another nightmare about her. There was a gala of sorts and I was a journalist. I was doing short interviews and scribbling all the details on my pad. Eventually, Renee shows up, again, with a distraught look. She walks up to me and tells me I need to leave now. I know I had so much work left to do and I didn't want to leave but I left while trying my hardest not to cry. I walked in the quiet, dark streets for a bit until I stumbled upon a Schlotzksy's. The sign had a familiar orange glow but the building was one big, domineering, Marble block. I enter and head straight for the restrooms. I hate what I see in the mirror and completely sympathize with her request to see me out. The sides of my shirt and soaked after being clenched in fear for this event. I pull out some pills and swallow them. I think I'm dying, and everything feels colder.
I really don't have nightmares. Not since ninth grade. And now they're coming back? Why am I like this?

It's been 680 days since I last self-harmed. Already passed the big 666. Am I cured? Kinda, but not really. I have more resistance built up so in the event of an attack I can actually hold off the urge with more time than the impulse can last. That's great news, right? Again, I have all the thanks in the world to give to Stef. A few other characters too but we will get to that. So, is there anything left to conquer? Also yes. But a few more things to address beforehand.