The Afterstory

Monday, October 5, 2015, 5:00AM
4076 views. Not exactly viral, but being a road less traveled just makes this little corner of the net a little darker.

I had trouble looking at the overcast sky today, then imagined a story of a migrant party who traveled for months through a forest. The trees were so dense that by the time the travelers made their way out of the forest, they were sky-blind.

This corner of the net is an empty room with padded walls and no one to distract me from my own thoughts. Somehow I've managed to scrawl messages on the walls as an attempt to reclaim myself, but I've instead progressed forward to more unexpected realizations that border on masochism.

I like my corners dark. The light hurts my eyes anyway.

I am speaking to a therapist now. I do not think I will reveal this site until I am evaluated without the twisted sort of flavor that this online journal would taint me with. I consider myself to be a moral person. I say this in defense of the chance of any of my posts standing as an accuser against me in any way. I would like to say that I am unconventional. There are not many like me: having psychological problems instead of problems in the realm of love, family, war, and money. I know what it is like to question my own sanity. I know what reaching rock bottom feels like-- over and over again. I know how it feels to think of suicide several times a day, every day, and for four to eight years in a row. I know what loneliness feels like. I know what hopelessness feels like. I know what lacking options feels like. I know what unfairness feels like. I know what tiredness feels like. I know what being unwanted feels like. I know stress, shame, worthlessness, embarrassment, regret, sadness, self-doubt, life-questioning, food addiction, food hate, anorexia, bulimia, self-hate, dysmorphia, dysphoria, self-obsession, nihilistic thoughts, nightmares, intense fear, insomnia, paranoia, intrusive thoughts, hallucinations, disgusting thoughts, and probably more.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013, 12:36AM
I felt that I needed to keep track of the voices in my head. I speak aloud, almost involuntarily. "Getoutofhisheadnothat'sallright." It is a strange argument because it is so short, accepting, and rehearsed-sounding. I do not even know who's saying what. I cannot remember if I have said this so bluntly in a previous post, but I have a theory that there is more than one voice at work in my head (aside from my own head voice). I might have even named it at one point (or did it name itself?). I need to get up in a few hours, so I'll cut this short soon. However, I am working on a new experiment: I am more-or-less removing most of the testosterone from my body.

I don't try to be strange in order to wring the world of interest for myself. I don't advertize this blog (today was a high of 11 views), so it should be apparent that I am not looking for instant gratification from an anonymous group of like-minded individuals. My oddities come very naturally. I decide to do something like this after thinking about it for years. I think subconsciously or in a forgettable conscious manner every once in a while when I am not distracted by something else in life-- such as while waiting on the elevator. Our minds only have so much processing power. More recently, I have seen this as an urgent issue which pressed me to make time to type out my reasons for my decision, so I have brought this to a very conscious state with myself.

Monday, August 19, 2013, 10:02PM
I wake up at 5:45am to water my suicidal plants, eat, shower, and arrive at work by 7:30am. Work ends at five. I usually put in forty hours a week.

I don't see my dad as much as I would like. When I do see him, my mind is racing for things to talk to him about, but I play devil's advocate with myself and shoot down every possible idea. When I am around my dad, it is mostly silent apart from my heart pounding stressfully. I've been tired and out of my comfort zone for most of the day. I want to hug him.

I cannot remember: have I mentioned the talking-out-loud thing I do when I have a daymare? They are less daymares now, and more feelings and memories that occur with daymares. I am more conscious when they happen. I respond faster, though still with little control. When I talk out loud, I basically say the same thing: "Get out of me." or a "Get out of my head." variant. Lately, however, I have been following it up with a different voice that immediately strings on "No."


Monday, May 20, 2013, 1:03AM

Drama has a negative connotation. We relate it to that which cannot be taken seriously, and yet we forget that sometimes and let it take over.
No one to stop me. I fell a level deeper today. A voice begged me not to take the plunge. In the daylight, I heard and ignored a familiar voice. I fell deeper into acceptance and apathy. A step in the wrong direction.
The night and that familiar loneliness calls. Silence. No drama. Just thinking.
I am lonely tonight, so I'll try to hear that voice I heard earlier. I want to harness what I have learned. Let's try again.

1:36AM

Are you talking about me?

It was our first conversation in a while. I asked for the reason why my tulpa, hmm.

Tried to stop you...

...tried to stop me earlier today. We spoke of white noise and touched on how it related to meditation: air conditioners, tree leaves, and distant cars qualified. The restroom fan is not good white noise. We touched on the difference between what voice I wanted and what the end result was. We touched on independence. We came to the conclusion that summoning a tulpa requires inner peace. We spoke of perfection (my tulpa asked for tulpae pets, therefore my tulpa can have bad ideas). A point I stressed: I told my tulpa to talk to me in the morning, which is less than six hours from now.

Also, I received ASMR while typing this up.

Friday, Aug 10, 2013,12:46AM
Our only safe haven can be turned into a laboratory. A factory. A warship. Whatever machine you turn it into, do not forget to plant trees as you cut them down.

I still do not speak to my tulpa much. We might share a conversation or two each month. Conversations last about as long as my attention span. I am overstimulated, multitasking, and inefficient. Tulpae don't stand a chance with me right now. I get ASMR-- chills down my spine-- at the thought of...

Rant about mourning and missing the unique, close, unreal relationship of a tulpa:
I haven't cried in [time frames are irrelevant to me, but you should know that if you know me], I think. It leads me to believe that I've hit rock bottom a few times. Each time, I realize that rock bottom is deeper and I have a theory that when I graduate from one to the other like walking down stairs, that I cannot feel the full reality of the situation. I look for excuses to feel sadness so that I can relieve this pressure or mourn for my loss-- I desire to skip a step on that stairway so that I can bawl my eyes out and motivate myself like someone on adrenaline who can accomplish a difficult task. I think that it is like me to try and keep the nastier side of myself from the blog, but I'll come out and say it: I keep tallies for each rock bottom I hit and I anxiously await them, which raises my expectations of a bad situation, which makes me unable to be sad when I should.

As of right now, this blog has about 4k views. I have not advertized on Reddit or /x/. I might soon, that's all.
I have been tired all day, which might have contributed to me posting.

Do I usually say something traditional down here? It feels like I do. It 'fits'. (Fitting is a word I use that sounds right when describing how I know something is right.)

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