157

Monday, October 22, 2012, 1:45AM

Usually, I type a few paragraphs only to stuff it in a more personal journal and then replace the text wall with something that represents my mindset after I am mentally exhausted:

Giving up: I apologize to whomever spent any time with this endeavor. I can't let go of this, but it's dead.

Defiant: But I can't let my poor luck win. What would my tulpa say?

There are so many distractions, obligations, mental obstacles, needs to keep up with...

(Warning: Abstract)
Talking to my non-existant tulpa each day feels like it is the second time. I know that I have talked before, which is why I don't say first time. I cannot talk about my day because the knowledge I have of my day is like the knowledge I have of typing the previous sentence; I can describe how the letters got on the page due to logical cause and effect, but each letter is so insignificant in attachment and meaning to me that I cannot 'relive' it or derive any enjoyment from speaking of it.

My weekend flew by, despite talking about 'surviving the week until Friday'. I don't know what I did yesterday, therefore (by some definitions) it did not exist. However, the nauseous feeling of obligations still bubbles in my stomach from the week. The combination adds to this illusion. On the outside, life looks good. In reality, it is a nightmare. It is a nightmare to be tormented in this way because there seems to be nothing wrong to others.

http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/10/158.html