I asked my dad if this feeling of what’s going on will ever go away and he said yes, as long as I keep saying every night what he wrote down for me until then. My mum nagged me about saying a longer prayer but my dad said to keep it simple for my sake because I won’t be able to remember anything longer… annnd he’s right.
I asked him if I’m going to have to sleep with a knife at the end of my bed forever and he said no. I should’ve felt comforted by that but I wasn’t. What if I’m doomed to be forever haunted. What will it feel like once this is all over? Still aware of how fucking nuts I sound about all this, bro.
I was really cautious about drinking shit when I put my invisible trays in. Now? As long as the drink doesn’t have a lot of color, I don’t really give a shit. I won’t eat with them, not because I care about damaging them… It just feels weird.
Also, at the risk of sounding like a loser… At first I was like, oh no! How am I supposed to kiss someone with these in? Is it gonna feel weird? Will they be put off? Then I came back to reality and realized I’ve barely kissed anyone this year to even be considering this an issue. I honestly don’t think I’m going to be doing any kissing for the rest of the duration.
I get self-conscious when I talk sometimes and they’re in shifting mode. I sound kind of stupid and my mouth does this weird thing. I don’t think anyone else notices it as much as I do and I don’t want to be “that person” who has to tell everyone to avoid looking like a dummy. I used to be that person. It made me look dumber being that way, ha.
I think once I finally do that dump run to get rid of the bigger stuff I’ve been trying to sort out, my place will be in the form I’d like it to be. It’s definitely getting there.
Oops, hit a brain fart.
Is this too personal?: My laser hair removal kit came finally. I don’t like having body hair on myself but I had a moment where I was debating if I wanted to get rid of my pubic hair forever. Would I regret it later? Eventually, my answer to myself was lol, no, because I don’t even remember having it during puberty. I have been trying to grow it out this year and it’s been fun but at the end of the day, I’d rather have a sphinx cat of an old lady vagina. You’re welcome for that image, btw.
I’ve always thought it was kind of silly to define how much of a woman I am by how natural I should be. The more I lean into being artificial in some ways, the more of a woman I feel to myself because the combination with natural is pretty dope. Don’t mistake it for superficial which I think is where the problem begins.
To get pretty real with you, I think the key is to do whatever shit you want to do, do it for yourself. Like, if my boobs were really for guys or attention, I’d be even further into my old habits. Instead, I’ve gained more personal value and treat myself like a priority. I also look better in clothing to myself and more and more, I own this confidence. I don’t really give a shit for people trying to preach otherwise.
I recently started drinking soju in a small sake bottle with a small sake cup. I quite enjoy it because it keeps my moderation under control. I don’t shoot it so I get to practice leisurely. This is way better than drinking wine, tbh.
Confession: I think about this scene often because like, this is the kind of love energy I want:
This form of jotting is way better for now, less stressful and makes me want to write more. It’s easier. It takes the pressure of feeling like I should have cohesive thoughts or write better and… I don’t really have either going on right now. This is open mode, as John Cleese would put it, so fuck it.
Last night, I slept well enough finally. I’m not very good with reciting the prayer I’m supposed to do but like lol, this isn’t a movie. I switched up the knife at the end of my bed to more gangster one because uhm, I ain’t fucking around now, son. These minor changes seem to help and if you call it placebo, I will fucking punch you.
If I squint somewhat, I can find it pretty funny that all this weird shit is happening right now because like, I’m probably the most stable and responsible I’ve been.
I like the current cast of I Live Alone. The chemistry between them is really good. I also really like the show because of what I’ve been learning from it. It made me realize that I had the wrong impression of living alone and how much of a westernized view I had of it. My point of view about the lonely aspect of living alone has changed because of this show. Also, like, lowkey how to utilize space.
My feelings for sentiment is getting out of hand as I get older. If I even begin to read something heart-warming, I cry. Like, I strongly feel it and then the tears come. It’s so embarrassingly a core of me that all I can do is continue to admit this.
You know, I don’t think I’d cared as much about losing weight right now if it didn’t affect the shape of my face as much as it does right now. I think that’s what’s making me going okay, okay, insecurity check. I’m really considering the Kybella shot but apparently so is everyone else because there’s a shortage of it in Canada.
I legit went to Victoria to spend about four hours there today because unexpected time crunch but shit still needed to get done.
No exorcism needed. I had to carry a picture home and now I have to learn to practice a prayer before bed. Something is following me though I’ve been told it’s not malicious like lol, it’s supposed to be comforting. I’ve also removed the mirrors from my room. I forgot about the one in my closet. I still don’t feel right but it’s a start?
To be honest, it’s like, spirits aren’t a thing that makes logical or conventional sense and if it were up to me, I wouldn’t believe it. But because I’ve dealt with spirit shit personally and also witnessed it, I know this shit is real. But like, it’s not really something that you can easily or openly talked about unless it’s with someone who believes in them without the same type of experience. When that’s the case, I can’t be bothered because they’ll offer unsolicited advice or try to bond over it and I’m. not. fucking. interested.
I just want to sleep for a day or two.
Cue lame joke: The only banging I’ve been doing this year is my hair. Besides my random moments of please do not fucking breathe closely in my general direction because it’ll accidentally set off my vagina, I have no interest in touching or being touched inappropriately. To be honest, I’m mostly content with false hope that one of my Korean fantasy boyfriends will become a reality. It’s better than being disappointed with real life. HEYOOO.
I’m growing out my bangs though. It was fun while it lasted. If my hair was naturally curly, I would keep it because I love Natasha Lyonne’s hair. At least I got to experience it for a moment when my hair felt like cooperating.
I’m making bone broth in my new instant pot. I will attempt to learn how to make ramen at home. If it fails, I’ll just cook noodles in my bone broth and pretend I did it right.
I’m going to get swole again. I’m going to get swole again. I’m going to get swole again. I’m going to get swole again. I’m going to get swole again.
I will go back down to 52kg. I will go back down to 52kg. I will go back down to 52kg.
I want to meet someone to share incredibly dumb laughs with. I’m like, talking about the guffawing type of laughs. I want someone who can bring the funny to the table too because honestly, I feel like the people I’ve dated in the past have been pretty weak in that area. I want to meet someone whose sense of humour doesn’t rely on sarcasm because that’s the fucking worst. It’s so uncomfortable and boring.
I WANT TO KNOW HOW PEOPLE CURATE THEIR GODDAMN INSTAGRAM SO GODDAMN WELL.