Hall of Fame (TW)
Reflections. I've come to realize the value of a journal in that you write down what you're thinking about, and in a sort of way you write, or in this case, type it out and as a result process what you're thinking about, or try to process it at least, and as a result, it'll be my best effort to update this diary of whatever I'm thinking about whenever it may be happening, in order to have some clarity of thought, I suppose. Perhaps relating to potential goals I may have, or literally anything on my mind. Trigger warning is up to be better safe than sorry, generally shouldn't be posting anything really explicit here. Let's see how long this lasts.
Constant direct beratement and criticism behind my back, surprisingly, doesn't put me in the best of moods. I get the message.
How can you express hugs over the internet? Seriously, when people say that I'm clueless as to what I should reply back, thanks? Okay? Hugs back? I really don't know, although I suppose I have difficulty with normal displays of empathy even in person, it's definitely exacerbated over the internet. I have no feelings of gratitude, because it seems like such a sort of mindless and generic response to any problems someone may have, and as a result leaves me feeling simply uncomfortable. A puzzle piece that doesn't fit into the puzzle.
Great schools.
Let people know, and they don't care, nor make an attempt to do so.
So be it.
Never found what I was looking for. Perhaps I shall once I leave, or perhaps that is the fantasy of leaving.
Sometimes I'm alright, sometimes I don't know.
Sleeping on the floor, I don't need a bed anyways I guess.
Forsaken and forlorn. What have I done?
Wipe the blood of your hands.
Sua Sponte
Of one's own accord.