An Open Letter

Hey. I'm not fully sure why I can't bring this up – I guess because I don't feel like it will change. I also don't think you would take this well, so here I am writing another post. I find it hard to write this down, as I'm setting myself up to look like an idiot again.

For a while, you treated me like a close friend. But also for a while you've treated me like an acquaintance. I don't know if this was because something was going on with you, but either way you never told me. You would do things and say things that would constantly make me feel insecure for thinking we were close. And whenever I would start to pull back to match that level, you would say something to make me think I was crazy and that we are close. It might be on me for giving so many chances, but at the end of the day I somehow constantly keep feeling like a friend that you are just stringing along.

I feel like there's a good chance that this is not something you intentionally do. You again said some very nice things that made me think that you value me as a friend. You also stayed in my apartment for a long time. But you still make it incredibly painful for me to bring up whenever you do something that hurts me. And on top of it, it is somehow always my burden to initiate that conversation. One of the only things that I've asked of you was to initiate a conversation like that. You never did, even after reminders.

I don't think you're a bad friend, but a lot of the times you'll do things that will hurt me or that are ignorant. But the problem is I can't bring up anything like that to you, and you never ask to check. I start to feel like shit whenever I think about you because all I can think about is the unresolved issues, that I have no place to put down.

I've said this several times, that anger is grief in a trench coat. The trench coat is coming off a little bit here. I wish you would step a little bit out of your world and do the things that are hard sometimes. You always blame yourself and are quick to jump to the conclusion that you are just a horrible person. I don't think you are. But I think that fear makes you avoid those difficult conversations. But that just puts the pain onto other people. I wish you were able to face what I have to say.

From what I remember of the myth, when Pandora closed the box the only thing that she kept trapped was Hope.

We finally saw each other in person yesterday, but they didn't bring up or acknowledge anything about the conversation that we had put on pause. I don't think anything will change there, I don't think they're willing to.

The birthday present was a blow to the gut, and the confirmation messages after was the second punch. I honestly feel like an idiot for having hope, they mentioned that it was something related to my blog but I don't think they looked at it at all. I put a link in the coded post two before this to something I wrote before my birthday – I think if they had seen that they might have thought twice about it.

I find myself constantly thinking about analogies on why it hurts, but I have to remind myself that I don't think it matters. They aren't going to ask why I was upset, they don't read this anyway, and I don't think I have it in me to bring this up to them anymore. I honestly feel like shit because I keep thinking about how much of a fool I've been. I gave a lot of benefit of the doubt. I don't really think I was wrong anymore. The gift kind of felt like a slap in the face – mocking me for thinking we were close all this time.

Fucking hurts. But I think it would hurt a lot more if I keep valuing them the way I do. For my own sake I'm going to put time and effort into other friends. Nothing changes, I get why people believe that.

I was right

R wlm'g ivzoob pmld dszg vohv gl hzb. R gsrmp gszg R'n rm xlmgilo lu sld R ivhklmw gl gsrh uvvormt, yfg zg gsv vmw lu gsv wzb, R uvvo sloold zugvi ivxvrermt Vhnv'h yrigswzb kivhvmg.

Hsv tlg nv z szmwnzwv hgznk kzw(?), z gsrxp kzkvi drgs rg hgznkvw lm, z hsrig gszg hzbh “Prmpb rh fhrmt gsv uvzgsvi, kvievigvw rh fhrmt gsv dslov xsrxpvm”, z slg wlt ovtl nrmrurtfiv pvbxszrm, zmw z hlfevmrvi pvbxszrm lu gsv hgzgfv lu z prw kvvrmt uiln yifhhvoh.

Gsv urihg gsrmt R hzd dsvm R lkvmvw rg dzh gsv hgznkvw kzkvi, zmw R tlg hgfmmvw uli z orggov yrg. Gsv wizdrmt dzh z ivxivzgrlm lu gsv wizdrmt hsv wrw lm gsv sllwrv R tlg ozhg bvzi uli zoo nb uirvmwh gl kfg hlnvgsrmt lmgl. Rg dzh z wizdrmt lu gsv yfggviuob tilev dsvm dv dvmg lm z dzop gltvgsvi lmv grnv. Hsv zohl kfg gsv gvcg “Rg dzh z tllw wzb” fmwvimvzgs. Gszg dzh gsv mznv lu z klvn hsv hvmg nv z olmt grnv ztl, zmw R'ev szw z hvxgrlm lu rg zh nb wrhxliw yrl hrmxv gsvm.

R wrwm'g ivzoob uvvo hvvm. Gsv hsrig hsv tlg wlvhm'g ivozgv gl nv zg zoo, gsv ovtl nrmrurtfiv R gsrmp rh yvxzfhv levi gsv hfnnvi zg gsv hfnnvi xznk R dvmg yb gsv mznv Slgwlt, zmw R nrtsg szev nvmgrlmvw dsvm hsv wrw gsv wizdrmt zylfg sld xllo rg dzh zmw R drhs R xlfow tvg rg kirmgvw. Lyerlfhob R'n mlg fkhvg gszg hsv hslfow szev fmwvihgllw vczxgob dszg R nvzmg li zmbgsrmt orpv gszg – yfg nliv zoo lu gsvhv kivhvmgh uvog orpv mlmv lu gsvn dviv NV. Gsv xolhvhg gsrmt dzh gsv hgznk, yfg urihg lu zoo – dszg xzm R klhhryob wl drgs z hgznk? Zoo R szev rh z gsrxp krvxv lu hlnv zig nvwrfn, ml rmp, ml kzkvi gl kfg rg lm, li zmbgsrmt orpv gszg. R qfhg szev gsv hgznk nlow, dsrxs rh ivevihvw zmw fhvw. R zohl szev gsv ivhfog lm z krvxv lu gsrxp kzkvi gszg'h qzttvw zg gsv vwtvh zmw prmwz hnvooh yzw. Dszg zn R hfkklhvw gl wl drgs gszg. R prmwz uvvo orpv hsv dzh nliv “Ls gsrh dlfow yv z ufm kilqvxg, zmw z xllo zig rwvz” zmw hsv nzwv svi ldm wizdrmt. Rg dzhm'g vevm hlnvgsrmt ivzoob kvihlmzo gl nv. Rg dzh hlnvgsrmt hsv wivd uiln z krxgfiv hsv gllp lm z dzop dv dvmg lm. Orpv R tvg gszg R dzh kzig lu gszg dzop, yfg gszg dzhm'g ivozgvw gl nv. Rg dzh nliv svi.

R ivnvnyvi z dsrov ztl R dilgv wldm R dlfow yv kivggb fkhvg ru hsv tzev nv z krvxv lu zig, zh gszg dlfow yv nliv svi gszm nv.

https://biggergig.com/i-had-a-parking-spot-right-in-front-of-the-store

R gslftsg R szw vevm vmxlwvw rg, yfg R wrwm'g. Kozrm vmtorhs. R'n slmvhgob nliv hzw gszg gsvb nzwv gsrh rmhgvzw lu z wizdrmt lu nv li Szhs li zmbgsrmt orpv gszg. Rmhgvzw lu vevm wlrmt gszg, gsvb yzhrxzoob qfhg nzwv zm zig krvxv uli ufm, zmw tzev nv gsv krvxvh zg gsv vmw. Mlg vevm hgfuu gl yv zyov gl fhv rg.

R uvvo fmtizgvufo, yfg zg gsv hznv grnv R gsrmp R dlfow szev vmqlbvw hlnvgsrmt orpv z trug xziw gl z ufxprmt xizxpvi yziivo nliv. Nzbyv mlg, nzbyv R'n vcztviizgrmt – yfg rg wvurmrgvob uvvoh orpv gsvb wrw hlnvgsrmt gsvb dzmgvw gl wl, mlg hlnvgsrmt R dlfow szev dzmgvw. Gsv ufxp zn R hfkklhvw gl wl drgs z ifyyvi hgznk kzw lu gsvri wizdrmt. Gsvb yzhrxzoob zhhvnyovw z ovtl slfhv, tofvw rg zoo gltvgsvi, zmw tzev nv gsv slfhv zmw dvmg :W slfhv!

R prmwz qfhg uvvo orpv xibrmt mld. R tfvhh R uvvo orpv xibrmt yvxzfhv lu zoo gsv dzhgvw grnv zmw sfig zmw olev yvxzfhv lu sld R gslftsg gsrh kvihlm dzh z olg xolhvi gszm gsvb dviv. R gsrmp dv'iv hfiuzxv ovevo uirvmwh. R drhs R xlfow hglk gvcgrmt svi, R gsrmp R mvvw hlnvlmv vohv gl hzgrhub gsv hznv mrxsvh hl R wlm'g szev gl mlg hzb xvigzrm gsrmth zh lkklhvw gl hvmwrmt svi rg.

Lmv gsrmt gszg tlg nb slkvh fk zmw xizhsvw rg dzh sld dsvm R urihg hzd rg, R tlg hgfmmvw yvxzfhv gsv xzkgrlm fmwvi “Rg dzh z tllw wzb”. R gslftsg hsv nvzmg gszg hsv vmqlbvw gszg wzb gltvgsvi. Gszg nzpvh nv dzmg gl xib uiln uvvormt szkkb. Hsv pmldh R hgifttov z olg drgs uvvormt olevw, li gszg kvlkov dzmg gl zxgfzoob yv zilfmw nv. Ru hsv szw nvzmg gszg, rg dlfow szev uvog orpv hsv gslftsg zylfg gsv gsrmth R'ev xlmuvhhvw, zmw gslftsg zylfg hlnvgsrmt R dlfow ezofv. Yfg rmhgvzw rg dzh gsv mznv lu gsv klvn hsv hvmg nv z olmt grnv ztl. R orpv gsv klvn, yfg rg'h zohl svi mlg nv. Gsrh zoo uvog hl rmxivwryob rnkvihlmzo. Dsb gsv ufxp dlfow R dzmg z ovtl nrmrurtfiv lu z slgwlt nzm? R wrwm'g vmqlb gsrh hfnnvi, R wlm'g dzmg gl yv ivnrmwvw lu rg. R wlm'g orpv ovtl urtfivh. Gsrh hsrig rh mlg nv vrgsvi. R wlm'g urmw rg ufmmb. Gsrh uvog dlihv gszm dszg R vckvxgvw, zmw tlw R szw old vckvxgzgrlmh tlrmt rmgl gsrh.

I find similar situations give a good change of perspective for different qualitative things in life. I think looking at stuff like relationships in a chamber makes it impossible to judge anything – imagine someone being in an abusive relationship for their entire life without experiencing anything different. I talked with F today actually for the first time in a while. (I find it ironic I’m censoring his IGN, but I might as well be consistent here.) He’s still the same flawed person I knew before, but at least something has changed since last time. It’s not much, but at least it’s something to let me know that he’s capable of change – no matter how small. He started flaming someone else during my ranked game, and I asked him to mute all and not tilt them, as I wanted to win so I didn’t have to play any more games than I had to. I think he did, and we ended up winning. He also didn’t get mad as often as he usually does.

I always held the view where I think a good person is someone who changes for the better, as over the long term they will improve. I may not say it or think it at the moment, but I’m actually very proud of him for changing for the better. I don’t think it’s easy, especially when you’re used to not having to do that. It does get easier, once you start doing it more. But that first step is the hardest. I’m proud of him for that.

I wonder if there’s an argument to make about the area under the curve for a person’s immediate quality as a friend. Is a friend who’s a good friend who is slowly getting worse over time better than a bad friend who’s getting better if it’s for a short enough period? I feel like it’s a bit more nuanced than that. I used to think relationships were transactional for everyone inherently, but there are other factors I didn’t really think about till I asked some friends why they’re friends with me. One mentioned loyalty – how we’ve gotten in a lot of fights and still at the end of the day we come back together. Thinking about that now, I realize how much that breaks transactionality apart for me. I have a few friends that I think are not the greatest – not toxic but also not perfect either. I still would choose them over other people because I care about them and I’ve built up that loyalty over the years. I wonder if people are loyal to me in the same way – and I guess under that question I really mean I wonder if people will not leave me if I stop providing as much value to them. It’s a pretty ingrained in me thought, so I wonder what reality is like.

Something that I really don't like but myself is I tend to overthink and plan out interactions in advance when I'm nervous. I end up rehearsing mentally over and over different scenarios and what mannerisms and body languages I'll have. It makes everything feel almost performative to me, and I end up having a lot of anxiety around social interactions because they start to feel like something I need to prepare for, like a presentation or exam.

I don't know what happened, I used to be such a confident person when it came to talking and things like that. Now my throat closes up at minor inconveniences, and I find myself unable to talk. I like texting or messaging for this reason, because then I don't need to worry about my tone, facial expressions, or anything else like that. It feels almost psychopathic to say it like this – but to me it feels very reasonable. I don't get how people are not bothered by the fact that their body language or face may betray what they really think. Maybe it's because I police everything I say whenever I'm having a real conversation. I wonder if what I'm doing is right.

When I was back at home after I had a difficult conversation with my mom, she hugged me at the end. Normally my body shuts down when she does this, but I took a risk and hugged her back. She held onto me so tightly. After it was too much for me to handle I let go of her and she still held me tightly. After some more time of that she finally let go and I walked away. I saw in my shirt there were tears.

There's a deep longing in me for the kind of love where someone selfishly loves you. I mean that in the sense of they love you in a way that's sustainable. Not because there's something I'm doing for them, but more of the kind of love that overpowers even my own wishes. Even after I couldn't handle it anymore, she kept holding me tightly. Maybe she was trying to make up for the times when she didn't. I wonder if it's hard for her the same way it is for me.

I always think about the romanticization of abuse, typically is something along the lines of “he hit me and it felt like a kiss”. I thought about the opposite today, and it scared me how it resonated.

It's almost ironic how I crave to be loved and seen, but the thought of it makes me want to push it away and run. I'm trying to think about why I feel this way, and I guess it's just because it doesn't feel right. I'm not sure if I believe that I deserve it. It just gutterally feels wrong. I feel like I'm always plagued by the dichotomy of wanting something, but also my inherent behavior of rejecting it.

I think my thoughts have dried up, All I can hear in my head is “I just want to be loved” sung by XYLØ.

It's been a while and it hasn't really gotten better. I have brief stretches of nothingness surrounded by cold waves that crash down on my chest. It feels almost cruel how having a chance to breathe is such a soft, passive thing while starting to drown is incredibly violent.

I think a schedules helped me a lot, but I still feel like I'm moving through honey. Things that used to make me happy now become a viscous barrier I have to force myself through. I wake up and I feel like I'm chained to something every time I move. If I don't force myself, I end up passing hours just rotting in the same place, doing nothing. I feel horrible, tired, and hopeless.

I also have a belt constrained around my lungs. I'm paralyzed by this feeling of dread – almost like a train crawling to a stop towards me, and I'm standing there frozen on the tracks. All I can see is this impending doom, and I'm powerless to move out of its way. It feels ironic how I'm more afraid of a small inconvenience compared to the idea of not existing anymore.

I was in a Costco line waiting to pick up my dogs medication, and I just felt an overwhelming desire to cry. The worst part is I knew I couldn't. Things have been fucking rough lately, and I just don't have a way to put any of this weight down. I talked with my dad about trying other experimental treatments, and that's somewhat fizzled out. I feel resigned to my fate – I don't have the energy to try to change things. I was sitting in the gym today waiting for something I didn't know before starting my set. The weight was almost comically light, and I knew it. But I still was just paralyzed by something I couldn't figure out. I permanently feel in the state of having just enough energy to sit down and never enough to get back up. I think if I didn't have routine I wouldn't be able to do anything. Hell, without Hash I don't think I'd wake up or get out of bed.

I'm tired. I really am. I'm tired, I'm tired, I'm tired. God gave me everything I asked for and I'm still in pain. I've started thinking about God more recently, I think I need to believe there's someone there for me who has a plan. Because I can't really see anything for myself in the future. I can't even see myself in an hour. I'm trying I really am, but I feel myself losing slowly, piece by piece I'm being whittled down.

I talked with my therapist more today about handling different people’s interpersonal issues. I think it’s fairly natural for everyone to have their quirks and difficulties – but it doesn’t make it any easier. I’ve thought about these sorts of things a lot, and I think universal communication is the only way to bridge these gaps. I also think that this needs to be proper communication – which is an unnatural thing I think in the first place. It’s pretty hard to put aside your predispositions to try to accommodate someone else’s viewpoint, and I’m still trying to figure out when/if it’s ever appropriate to be natural with communication.

I struggle with emotions when I’m frustrated or sad, as I tend to dilute them to make them more palatable. I pretty easily concede speaking about me being upset or hurt when faced with any opposition – which is an unhealthy thing that I’m aware of. I guess the inner child in me constantly sees the situations where I’ve had to bottle up emotions to appease a parent. I’m fairly tired, and relatively lucid due to my medication, and I feel that fear of consequences slipping away. I don’t feel as afraid to say things that are abrasive or damaging.

I’m a bit worried, the things I want to say right now are things that would set off some bad things.

AAAAND I’ve just hit them with the “Your turn” after being interrupted. I’m pretty tired of this, and I don’t really think I’ll get a chance to speak or have any meaningful thoughts or feelings acknowledged let alone addressed. I feel pretty fuckin hurt. I remember why I don’t bring up things anymore, it’s almost a curse how Adderall lowers my activation energy to tasks. The very thing I’m prescribed it for ends up biting me back for it. Oh well. Maybe they’re all right.

Someone reached out to me on Discord, sending a very sweet message mentioning how they actually read this blog a bit and enjoyed seeing an “honest down-to-earth blog”. It was a real ‘small world’ moment because they saw one of my solutions on Reddit for Advent of Code, and they noticed afterward it was me! It's pretty surreal how things like that happen, especially with how big the internet is, but it was a very cool interaction and something that felt almost like divine intervention to me.

Literally an hour before, I was thinking about my blog while in the shower. I was thinking about how much it’s devolved from the original posts I had, and how low-effort it’s become. I was fairly disappointed in it, and I also constantly have the disparaging feeling that it’s not worth the potential shame or consequence of someone reading it and making fun of this. It’s more or less something I’ve decided I want to show to myself I don’t care about, as I can’t really live a life of fear of my actions – or at least I don’t think that’s a good life. I want to be cringe, do cringe things, and lead the life I think is best in the current moment. This may include making lame videos to post on relatively anonymous social media, writing shit down on this blog, or uploading silly little videos to my youtube channel for (hopefully) no one to see.

I guess it almost feels like I’m being encouraged by God or some higher power to continue down this path of doing stupid shit. I wouldn’t have met a close friend if I didn’t have this blog attached to my discord, and I’ve had a lot of meaningful interactions because of the things I do. I think if I didn’t do anything that I could potentially be shamed for, I would never really be able to connect to anyone anyways. I’m glad I do the things I do. Thank you to the person who sent me that kind message, I really cannot stress enough how happy it made me ♥