What has become apparent in therapy is that a lot of this dissonance I talk about in my blog, or this doublemindedness about myself in terms of hating and worshipping myself, comes from some childhood trauma. And I hate to use the word trauma because that refers to real things. That refers to sexual assault,…

Continuing on with my hopefulness arc. The title of this post is a famous line from a show called FLCL, pronounced Fooly Cooly in English. It’s an old anime I remember watching on Adult Swim as a kid – it had a pretty good English dub and was that right blend of wacky, violent, horny,…

It has now been one year that Jane and I have been broken up. Last year, on Friday, April 19, 2024, I went on a little field trip for class. It was a daytrip with three of my classmates to Jacksonville State University – we were in a class called Campus Ecology, which was about…

Nostalgia is often heralded as a good thing nowadays. Perhaps good isn’t the right word. Comfortable? Comparative? I don’t know how to phrase it, but nostalgia feels like this kind of infection that people have. The judgmental fuck I am, I see it in others as this return to times of safety and comfort and…

It seems that every time I sit down to write nowadays, I’ve got a beer or a glass of wine or something next to my keyboard keeping me company. While it’s easy to explain this away with alcohol kind of lubricating the more emotional parts of myself, realistically, I’m developing some kind of alcohol dependency.…

I have not been doing well. That’s about par for the course for me, the boundless depressive. I had enjoyed about 8 months of a novel strain of hypomania, this sort of joie de vivre that was more akin to jolts of electricity than it was to a sea change. I suppose around December, the…

Consider what you were, back before things had names, back when pointing was your native tongue. Consider this you, covered in baby fat in very tiny shoes in a very large world. Sure, you had bouts of illness and soccer games and elementary school calendars to put tiny little ledges in your memory to hold…

I couldn’t think of how to title this, or really what I’m talking about. Well, that’s not true. I’m trying to come to terms with the fact that tomorrow I am going to cut things off with my ex. I thought I was ready for that, I’ve been feeling ready for the past few weeks.…

To be frank, I have been neglecting this for a while. I certainly haven’t been at a loss for words nor thoughts, but I guess the ritual of sitting down and typing out my thoughts was intimidating, or unsavory, or maybe just kind of tedious. Beyond that, though, I guess, is a general fear of…

The seams that hold a person together aren’t very strong, y’know. Specifically, they’re quite liable to any type of pulling or stretching and even the slightest tug in the wrong way will send your buttons tumbling across the floor. It seems pretty satisfying to be a button that spontaneously bursts from its threaded prison towards…