(December 30th, 2024)

[15:29 PST]

I feel as if I'm not a person
in the psychological sense.
I don't interact with people
nor do I love anyone. I don't
love my parents, I don't
love any of the people I've
gotten close to. They were
just in my life. People feel
that I owe them an explanation
for how I act and behave. My
mom believes that the staring
off into space, the depression
so bad that I cannot get off
the couch or make myself food,
or the voices are a choice,
that I am doing this on purpose
and that I am fine. The funny
thing is, the voices have 
been here since I was little.
My mom noticed and didn't
give it a second thought.
Something that could've been
preventable is now a chronic
lifelong condition that I 
just have to live with now. 

The more I think back the
more I realize that I
haven't felt anything
close to true happiness.
Ever since I was little
all I've had were distractions.
Roblox, fortnite, all of 
these things I'd play
to disassociate from my
regular life, to live
something else. The only
real friend I had throughout
elementary school sexually
assaulted me in the back
of a truck, still I saw
him. Why? Because he was
the only person in my life
who listened to my problems,
ironically for being a 
third grader he had his
shit together better than
both of my parents combined.
Still, I'd go over to his
house, he'd go over to 
mine and it'd continue 
to happen. I'd live with
it because at least it
was something, it was
at least some sort of
warmpth.

It is a given at this
point that at one point
or another I will eventually
kill myself, I am a husk
of a person. Maybe I'll
write a suicide note on
here before I do it or
not. It doesn't matter
in the end, nobody who
is close to me will
ever find these logs
and that's how I
intended it. They will
be buried in obscurity 
along with me, maybe
a person will stumble
upon it while searching
through old gopherspaces,
have the thought of 
what they saw in the 
back of their mind for
a bit before moving 
on with their lives.
I am too normal in
my mom's eyes to bring
me to a psych ward
so I will never receive
the help I need. 

In the present moment,
I have a cat next to
me at the very least.
It won't miss me if
I leave however,
it will think I
just abandoned
it.

[00:13 PST]

Talked with my mom about
what I discussed involving
my friend. Never went into
full detail with it. She
apologized for screaming at
me and I apologized for 
cussing her out. All is
fine in the world. After
going through a process of
leaving, rejoining, regretting
rejoining, and then leavnig again
in an endless mindnumbing cycle
of social relapse, I've decided
to delete my account on a chat
app. I have been using it for
almost a third of my life at this
point. I should've stopped using
it three years ago, it lost the
original purpose I had for using
it, talking with friends at school.
My old iPhone 6 that got given to
me by an uncle was put on multiple
telemarketer lists. I'd get random
texts to porn games and "Sexy girls
in 20 miles of you" texts. Which was
really funny to me because the only
thing in 20 miles of me at that point
was trees and then even more trees. 
Maybe it was that one lady who sold
jerkey on the side of the main road,
who knows. Still, I used the chat
app a bit before that to talk with
the abuser who moved, we kept in 
contact until about two years ago.
I'm glad to have gotten rid of him.

I will miss some of the people on 
the chat app. The whole idea for the
HOWSMYDAY project stemmed from me
asking how other people's days were
going on a daily basis to keep
some sort of schedule in place.
It never really went beyond that 
though. Just venting when I needed
to and inquiries. This is the 
(probably) fifth time I've
deleted an account on there. I
always come back for one reason
or another, the minimalist UI
is comforting to some degree.
These logs will now also count
as a sort of sobriety chart.
If raid won't cut it to get
rid of the bugs I'll just
have to get a fumigator.

Goodnight SDF
-May