Wednesday, July 11, 2012, 12:20AM
It was good while it lasted.
I thought it might be worthy to note that I've been able to think in pictures lately. Until last night, I have been able to simply think of something and see it in my head. Last night, I dug too deep when I tried to focus on a person's nose. The lesson was that if I don't know what every part of a person looks like, then I shouldn't even try to fill in the gaps with my imagination. As you may have already guessed, the nose was corrupted a bit. Instead of aborting the thought process, I hopelessly subjected myself to focusing on it in an attempt to change things back to the way they were. I ended up aborting before it would get worse.
Even though I this is related to daymares, I don't really count this as a true daymare. This is an on-the-spot definition, but I think a daymare is a forced memory (which can be real, altered, or completely unrelated to the victim's life) which causes harm (mentally-draining, increased heartbeat, chest pain, and those imagined feelings from the memory such as fear, guilt, or physical injury). When my thoughts become corrupted, it becomes difficult to explain. I'm very certain it is related to daymares, but I can't put a word to it besides corruption.
Why?
I may have mentioned my theories before:
My brain wants to subject myself to negative emotions frequently in order to let off steam. If I didn't have frequent small ones to prepare me for the (in comparison) huge daymares, they would render me mentally harmed. I need to callous my mind to prepare. Cover my brain with mud to block the scorching sun.
I block out memories because they are too much for me to handle.
I block out memories because they are too beautiful and they would make me see everything I am experiencing as hellish in comparison.
I have a huge conscience, therefore I have huge empathy.
I have huge empathy, therefore I have a huge conscience.
I am actually an evil person and my brain is trying to make me good via subjecting me to 'see how you like it' simulations.
I am trying to recover from some terrible mentally-scarring event that I am suppressing.
I am constantly thinking and it separates me from normal perspectives of reality, which prevents me from relying on memories like other people.
I am constantly thinking, therefore I have no time to keep track of memories.
I am constantly thinking, therefore I convert constructs normally used for memory into other problem-solving constructs (pretty inefficient if you ask me, but the brain's the boss).
I have no memories, therefore I learned to adapt to social situations.
I am excellent at social adaptation, therefore I do not need memories.
My subconscious knows that negative feelings are bad, therefore it subjects me to them in order to make myself 'invincible' to them. Defiant to daymares. "Is that all you got?" A masochist even. "You can't hurt me when I take pleasure from the pain."
There are theories I do not want to say because they feed off of being spoken about. Use your imagination, I don't like to go there.
I have seen or known too much happen to the friends I meet. Innocents turning to drugs, alcohol, cutting, and living in tragic homes.
Everything I am is the result of having no childhood.
I have multiple personalities, each with its own memory and possibly even a combination of the above. This theory exponentiates the possibilities.
In other news... I still have a powersession tonight. I might edit this list with other theories.
Progress: Tulpa personality narration.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/07/1102.html
Showing posts with label daymare. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daymare. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
80
Monday, June 11, 2012, 10:06PM
Narration is spread out in a few serious, one-sided conversations each day. The plan is to do a power session tonight. Like I said a while ago, I need to work harder.
I haven't mentioned it because I thought it would be temporary, so I'll mention now that the daymares are getting worse.
Usually, daymares attack me before I sleep, when I am alone, or when I am mentally exhausted, but I've been fighting them off all day. Usually, they only electrocute me, but there are other effects. I've had a record amount today, I think. I feel vulnerable.
You know that feeling of being afraid of heights? It feels like I am standing on the edge of a cliff right now. A somewhat ghostly presence. It is fear so thick that it feels physical. Toxic. I have the feeling that someone wants to kill me. The feeling of separation. I find that my eyes are wide open and I have to force myself to relax. I know that it is like poison in my blood and I can't get rid of it slowly.
Edit:
Normal daymare effects:
1) Initial surprise attack
2) Increased heartbeat
3) Irregular breathing
4) Chest pain
5) Sore feeling in heart
6) Fear of the next daymare
Edit:
I believe a series of psychological experiments were performed by electrocuting mice. One group of mice was electrocuted at regular, predictable intervals. The control group of mice were electrocuted an equal number of times as the first group, but their electric shocks were randomized. The first group's stress levels were much smaller than the second group's, who developed ulcers and other adverse effects from extreme stress. I also believe the first group outlived the second.
In The Dark Knight (movie), the joker says these lines:
"Nobody panics when things go according to plan..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRG1tWQN6e8
Time might be running out, as far as lasting psychological damage goes, so I plan to get my pre-tulpa's personality pumped out before the month is over. I should feel pressured, but I consider this to be a high priority.
Progress: Personality narration. Pre-tulpa has not spoken.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/81.html
Narration is spread out in a few serious, one-sided conversations each day. The plan is to do a power session tonight. Like I said a while ago, I need to work harder.
I haven't mentioned it because I thought it would be temporary, so I'll mention now that the daymares are getting worse.
Usually, daymares attack me before I sleep, when I am alone, or when I am mentally exhausted, but I've been fighting them off all day. Usually, they only electrocute me, but there are other effects. I've had a record amount today, I think. I feel vulnerable.
You know that feeling of being afraid of heights? It feels like I am standing on the edge of a cliff right now. A somewhat ghostly presence. It is fear so thick that it feels physical. Toxic. I have the feeling that someone wants to kill me. The feeling of separation. I find that my eyes are wide open and I have to force myself to relax. I know that it is like poison in my blood and I can't get rid of it slowly.
Edit:
Normal daymare effects:
1) Initial surprise attack
2) Increased heartbeat
3) Irregular breathing
4) Chest pain
5) Sore feeling in heart
6) Fear of the next daymare
Edit:
I believe a series of psychological experiments were performed by electrocuting mice. One group of mice was electrocuted at regular, predictable intervals. The control group of mice were electrocuted an equal number of times as the first group, but their electric shocks were randomized. The first group's stress levels were much smaller than the second group's, who developed ulcers and other adverse effects from extreme stress. I also believe the first group outlived the second.
In The Dark Knight (movie), the joker says these lines:
"Nobody panics when things go according to plan..."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRG1tWQN6e8
Time might be running out, as far as lasting psychological damage goes, so I plan to get my pre-tulpa's personality pumped out before the month is over. I should feel pressured, but I consider this to be a high priority.
Progress: Personality narration. Pre-tulpa has not spoken.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/81.html
Sunday, June 3, 2012
72
Sunday, June 3, 2012, 9:30PM
This is going to sound awfully abstract and sound like one of my old posts.
I got a text saying my friend wanted to skate. I haven't seen him in days (it may as well be weeks in my perspective), so I thought I would surprise him by visiting.
I am replaying the wreck over and over. A new daymare. I thought I was done getting hit by cars. Now I know why I get hit by cars, I think.
Here I am. The left side of me red. Skating down a huge hill. Bailed.
Hydrogen peroxide. Poured over and foamed inside me. After poking at myself with a wet washcloth, this made me sick.
I was pretty far from home too. I had to skate back. Singing like I didn't care who heard. Did you know I sing? I'm terrible. I bet the neighbors appreciated it.
I screamed my way up the hill, though. The memory played over and over. And again when I thought I could relax.
I popped three pills. That's more than I've had in years. I don't get hurt. I don't get sick. I'm making all sorts of realizations.
Evidently, he wasn't at his house anyway. I texted my friend that I had just wrecked. Laughing.
Two people heard me scream. I assured them I was alright. The old man gave me the strangest look.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine" I shouted. I put my shoe back on to cover the bloody hole in my sock.
I didn't wash myself right away. I was laughing a little.
Then I called my friend back. I had just received a memory trigger and I am so used to doing things right away. "When can you come to the party?"
You know what? Daymares don't come from guilt alone. Daymares come from something else. Memories of pain to be vague.
I didn't think of my tulpa until now. I had a small narration session today on a picnic table in a park I've never been to. I was downwind of cigarette smoke, so my super-smell encouraged me to quit early. The night is still young, so I can get some quality time with my pre-tulpa in. I just thought I should type this all down before I forgot. By the way, I have a ton of documents depicting memories of my life written in this write-what-you-can-remember-and-write-it-fast fashion. I think I'll leave this moment in its raw form to stress the flow of my thought process.
I didn't wear a helmet or kneepads. I protected my head by diverting all of the force to my hands until my arms could not hold. Then I slid on my left side. I'm no amateur at skating, after all.
I saw someone just a little younger than me walking, so I picked myself up and said hello. Evidently, I had met him before and should know him, which confused him a bit.
Progress: I have recently started narration, which seems easier than visualization, which at least has a good foundation.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/73.html
This is going to sound awfully abstract and sound like one of my old posts.
I got a text saying my friend wanted to skate. I haven't seen him in days (it may as well be weeks in my perspective), so I thought I would surprise him by visiting.
I am replaying the wreck over and over. A new daymare. I thought I was done getting hit by cars. Now I know why I get hit by cars, I think.
Here I am. The left side of me red. Skating down a huge hill. Bailed.
Hydrogen peroxide. Poured over and foamed inside me. After poking at myself with a wet washcloth, this made me sick.
I was pretty far from home too. I had to skate back. Singing like I didn't care who heard. Did you know I sing? I'm terrible. I bet the neighbors appreciated it.
I screamed my way up the hill, though. The memory played over and over. And again when I thought I could relax.
I popped three pills. That's more than I've had in years. I don't get hurt. I don't get sick. I'm making all sorts of realizations.
Evidently, he wasn't at his house anyway. I texted my friend that I had just wrecked. Laughing.
Two people heard me scream. I assured them I was alright. The old man gave me the strangest look.
"Are you alright?"
"I'm fine" I shouted. I put my shoe back on to cover the bloody hole in my sock.
I didn't wash myself right away. I was laughing a little.
Then I called my friend back. I had just received a memory trigger and I am so used to doing things right away. "When can you come to the party?"
You know what? Daymares don't come from guilt alone. Daymares come from something else. Memories of pain to be vague.
I didn't think of my tulpa until now. I had a small narration session today on a picnic table in a park I've never been to. I was downwind of cigarette smoke, so my super-smell encouraged me to quit early. The night is still young, so I can get some quality time with my pre-tulpa in. I just thought I should type this all down before I forgot. By the way, I have a ton of documents depicting memories of my life written in this write-what-you-can-remember-and-write-it-fast fashion. I think I'll leave this moment in its raw form to stress the flow of my thought process.
I didn't wear a helmet or kneepads. I protected my head by diverting all of the force to my hands until my arms could not hold. Then I slid on my left side. I'm no amateur at skating, after all.
I saw someone just a little younger than me walking, so I picked myself up and said hello. Evidently, I had met him before and should know him, which confused him a bit.
Progress: I have recently started narration, which seems easier than visualization, which at least has a good foundation.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/73.html
Thursday, May 31, 2012
69
Thursday, May 31, 2012, 10:43PM
Less vocal narration today-- more wonderland and visualization. I had to bail out of wonderland twice-- the first time because my tulpa said something very out of character. The second time may have involved speaking about something morbid (or am I confusing this with the first bail?). I was in wonderland for about an hour, give or take ten minutes. I was careful not to force my tulpa to do anything, but I lightly influenced facial expressions after some thought. From then, I simply spoke small talk.
In wonderland, I got distracted by a social dilemma: I am sliding down a leaf slide coiled around a giant tree and there were others behind me. I don't know who all has joined me (probably tree-dwellers, but I didn't get a good look at them), but there are several and they appear to be 10-15 year-old kids. Eventually, there is a gap in the leaf slide and it is too far to jump over. There is a single vine in front of me and I could swing safely to the other side, but that would prevent the others from swinging across. If I left the vine alone and fell down, only one of the tree-dwellers would live on to make the same decision I made. I did not recognize this as a reason I should abort wonderland because I was deep in thought.
If you didn't already understand this concept from an earlier post, I have a part of my mind that tries to blacken my thoughts. I do not like the idea of good thoughts turning bad (who would?) and it is therefore out of character for me to think this way. A theory I have of why I have a black part of my brain is that it is a survival feature. I would not be having these thoughts if I lived in a utopia. As I may have mentioned in previous posts, I am a strategist. I try to consider the outcomes of situations.
What happened in that wonderland session with the leaf slide was (optimistically) my mind preparing me for a similar situation. Now that I think of it, it could be a form of 'tough love.'
The reason I went into wonderland in the first place was to try out my experimental technique on vivid visualization. I described it in a recent post. Anyway, I didn't get to finish the technique because I was woken out early.
Progress: Visualization is comfortable now. I think I have caught up to how well everyone else did when they first started out. Narration sounds much easier than visualization and is so far without problem.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/70.html
Less vocal narration today-- more wonderland and visualization. I had to bail out of wonderland twice-- the first time because my tulpa said something very out of character. The second time may have involved speaking about something morbid (or am I confusing this with the first bail?). I was in wonderland for about an hour, give or take ten minutes. I was careful not to force my tulpa to do anything, but I lightly influenced facial expressions after some thought. From then, I simply spoke small talk.
In wonderland, I got distracted by a social dilemma: I am sliding down a leaf slide coiled around a giant tree and there were others behind me. I don't know who all has joined me (probably tree-dwellers, but I didn't get a good look at them), but there are several and they appear to be 10-15 year-old kids. Eventually, there is a gap in the leaf slide and it is too far to jump over. There is a single vine in front of me and I could swing safely to the other side, but that would prevent the others from swinging across. If I left the vine alone and fell down, only one of the tree-dwellers would live on to make the same decision I made. I did not recognize this as a reason I should abort wonderland because I was deep in thought.
If you didn't already understand this concept from an earlier post, I have a part of my mind that tries to blacken my thoughts. I do not like the idea of good thoughts turning bad (who would?) and it is therefore out of character for me to think this way. A theory I have of why I have a black part of my brain is that it is a survival feature. I would not be having these thoughts if I lived in a utopia. As I may have mentioned in previous posts, I am a strategist. I try to consider the outcomes of situations.
What happened in that wonderland session with the leaf slide was (optimistically) my mind preparing me for a similar situation. Now that I think of it, it could be a form of 'tough love.'
The reason I went into wonderland in the first place was to try out my experimental technique on vivid visualization. I described it in a recent post. Anyway, I didn't get to finish the technique because I was woken out early.
Progress: Visualization is comfortable now. I think I have caught up to how well everyone else did when they first started out. Narration sounds much easier than visualization and is so far without problem.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/06/70.html
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
67
Tuesday, May 29, 2012, 11:38PM
I'm a little worried here. I'm not putting hope into anything, but I will assume that the noticeability of my progress will eventually catch up to me. Eventually.
Tonight felt like a complete waste of time. This whole project-- I don't know. I rarely involve myself in simplicity. This making a tulpa-- it's not something that's easy to do. I envy people who can do it.
I don't think I'm serious enough (or am I too serious?). No. My life is too full. Even in the summer, I have plans tomorrow. So I stress tonight. From what I've learned, people cannot just get rid of something in their mind. They must replace. It works this way with habits, interests, friends, obsessions, and that occasional song that gets stuck in our heads.
What's in my head?
Anger, maybe? It might be that letter I got. They didn't hire me. The interview went better than expected. I was qualified. I impressed the man on my right. What happened next could mean different things to different people. The man on my left wouldn't even look me in the eyes. My mind plays it over and over. I don't know what's going on in his life. How tired he is. Who I remind him of. I don't know. I have to use my imagination. All I know is that by not crossing the social barrier by asking him up front, I have added another method of torture for use on myself. This isn't the worst daymare in the book, but daymares are the only memories that stay.
I don't know how everyone else does it. They make it look so easy. I need to get more serious even when tulpae are created lightheartedly by others.
Progress: It's hard to see where I'm at right now.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/05/68.html
I'm a little worried here. I'm not putting hope into anything, but I will assume that the noticeability of my progress will eventually catch up to me. Eventually.
Tonight felt like a complete waste of time. This whole project-- I don't know. I rarely involve myself in simplicity. This making a tulpa-- it's not something that's easy to do. I envy people who can do it.
I don't think I'm serious enough (or am I too serious?). No. My life is too full. Even in the summer, I have plans tomorrow. So I stress tonight. From what I've learned, people cannot just get rid of something in their mind. They must replace. It works this way with habits, interests, friends, obsessions, and that occasional song that gets stuck in our heads.
What's in my head?
Anger, maybe? It might be that letter I got. They didn't hire me. The interview went better than expected. I was qualified. I impressed the man on my right. What happened next could mean different things to different people. The man on my left wouldn't even look me in the eyes. My mind plays it over and over. I don't know what's going on in his life. How tired he is. Who I remind him of. I don't know. I have to use my imagination. All I know is that by not crossing the social barrier by asking him up front, I have added another method of torture for use on myself. This isn't the worst daymare in the book, but daymares are the only memories that stay.
I don't know how everyone else does it. They make it look so easy. I need to get more serious even when tulpae are created lightheartedly by others.
Progress: It's hard to see where I'm at right now.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/05/68.html
Monday, May 14, 2012
52
Monday, May 14, 2012, 9:40PM
Started meditating when it was light outside. I opened my eyes again to find it night. That was pretty cool.
I am so happy-- I don't know why! I can't get rid of this goofy smile-- people must think I'm nuts...
My tulpa is very strange-- surprising no one. My indecisive personality switches between two variants of the tulpa and I cannot decide what to do about it. Each time, I think I learn/progress/achieve more than I have in my entire tulpa career. It's not like I'm getting a little bit better each time. It's not like a runner getting a few seconds faster each year. I cannot think of anything in this world that grows at this rate and still has an unimaginable way to go. I'm going from atoms to planets here.
On another note... the daymare of this session. Don't read this if you can think of a reason not to read something gruesome. There is some part of me that wants to subject me to past memories. They are never good memories either. I watched a video some time ago in which someone jumped off of a three-story building and survived. That was the memory that played over and over. Keep in mind that I have extreme empathy, so I felt the shocks in my bones. After I surfaced from that daymare, the aftershocks came into effect. I fell into that daymare again, but that curious part of my brain wondered how it would feel like to walk on broken legs. Once I surfaced from it, all I heard was a broken record "Walk on broken legs." I am literary-minded, so I imagined both myself walking with my legs broken and I imagined myself breaking the legs of others (keep in mind that I am not a violent person and would not think of these if I had a choice).
Progress: Still in visualization stage. I still battle concentration sickness and daymares.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/05/53.html
Started meditating when it was light outside. I opened my eyes again to find it night. That was pretty cool.
I am so happy-- I don't know why! I can't get rid of this goofy smile-- people must think I'm nuts...
My tulpa is very strange-- surprising no one. My indecisive personality switches between two variants of the tulpa and I cannot decide what to do about it. Each time, I think I learn/progress/achieve more than I have in my entire tulpa career. It's not like I'm getting a little bit better each time. It's not like a runner getting a few seconds faster each year. I cannot think of anything in this world that grows at this rate and still has an unimaginable way to go. I'm going from atoms to planets here.
On another note... the daymare of this session. Don't read this if you can think of a reason not to read something gruesome. There is some part of me that wants to subject me to past memories. They are never good memories either. I watched a video some time ago in which someone jumped off of a three-story building and survived. That was the memory that played over and over. Keep in mind that I have extreme empathy, so I felt the shocks in my bones. After I surfaced from that daymare, the aftershocks came into effect. I fell into that daymare again, but that curious part of my brain wondered how it would feel like to walk on broken legs. Once I surfaced from it, all I heard was a broken record "Walk on broken legs." I am literary-minded, so I imagined both myself walking with my legs broken and I imagined myself breaking the legs of others (keep in mind that I am not a violent person and would not think of these if I had a choice).
Progress: Still in visualization stage. I still battle concentration sickness and daymares.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/05/53.html
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
27
Thursday, April 19, 2012, 1:40AM
I drank coffee at 7:00PM so I would have a crash later. I think it took about four or five hours last time. I am not feeling the crash, so if I do not fall asleep as soon as I lay down, I will drink more next time.
I have earplugs under my headphones. I am listening to soundtracks from FAQman's blog's download site-- isotones. I timed myself based on how many tracks I go through. This session totaled about one hour. I went over an hour, but I got up a few times to type my experiences.
My back is killing me for some reason. I alternate between the cross-legged sit and lying on my back. I almost fell asleep when I curled up into a ball.
Still using reference picture. I look at it, then visualize, then look again to correct myself. I am getting noticeably better.
Before I start, I think nice thoughts. Unlike the last two times, I did not think of the four key personality traits of my tulpa: intelligence, kindness, peace, and thankfulness. It still worked well.
I got hit with a daymare for the first time while visualizing. I was apologizing to someone. The event never occurred-- I was making the scene up. In reality, though, I had wronged that person. The daymare was a representation of the remorse I felt. I was telling the person that it would not be long until I would be out of that person's life. I aborted and begin to think thankful thoughts again because I realized that I did not spend as much time on it as last time.
I visualized my tulpa's mouth enough to make the lines convincing. It began to snap at me. I aborted by opening my eyes like they were taped together. Just like waking from a nightmare. I jump back in after a few breaths.
I reached out to touch my tulpa, as I could visualize it after about a half hour. The goal was to sculpt the shape with my hands in order to visualize the lines better. I should have known better. For a moment, I thought it was a bad idea, but the moment was too short to carry any weight in the decision. With my hands on its cheeks, I realized the situation I put myself in and tried to back out. The last glimpse I had was my forearms flexing to tear its fragile head off. I know I am not an angry or violent person. I'm just trapped with the thoughts of one.
The remaining time was spent on the eyes. Eyes have a unique curve to them and I have a habit of visualizing them to be narrower than they should be. I did not want to keep the narrow eye in my mind, so I would abort whenever it was not wide enough. Eventually, it got wide enough, but I don't want to say it is perfect.
I imagined the tulpa-in-progress three-dimensionally from several angles. It worked fairly well. Overall, I saw a lot of progress and success, but I became tired and I knew I had to get up in five hours.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/28.html
I drank coffee at 7:00PM so I would have a crash later. I think it took about four or five hours last time. I am not feeling the crash, so if I do not fall asleep as soon as I lay down, I will drink more next time.
I have earplugs under my headphones. I am listening to soundtracks from FAQman's blog's download site-- isotones. I timed myself based on how many tracks I go through. This session totaled about one hour. I went over an hour, but I got up a few times to type my experiences.
My back is killing me for some reason. I alternate between the cross-legged sit and lying on my back. I almost fell asleep when I curled up into a ball.
Still using reference picture. I look at it, then visualize, then look again to correct myself. I am getting noticeably better.
Before I start, I think nice thoughts. Unlike the last two times, I did not think of the four key personality traits of my tulpa: intelligence, kindness, peace, and thankfulness. It still worked well.
I got hit with a daymare for the first time while visualizing. I was apologizing to someone. The event never occurred-- I was making the scene up. In reality, though, I had wronged that person. The daymare was a representation of the remorse I felt. I was telling the person that it would not be long until I would be out of that person's life. I aborted and begin to think thankful thoughts again because I realized that I did not spend as much time on it as last time.
I visualized my tulpa's mouth enough to make the lines convincing. It began to snap at me. I aborted by opening my eyes like they were taped together. Just like waking from a nightmare. I jump back in after a few breaths.
I reached out to touch my tulpa, as I could visualize it after about a half hour. The goal was to sculpt the shape with my hands in order to visualize the lines better. I should have known better. For a moment, I thought it was a bad idea, but the moment was too short to carry any weight in the decision. With my hands on its cheeks, I realized the situation I put myself in and tried to back out. The last glimpse I had was my forearms flexing to tear its fragile head off. I know I am not an angry or violent person. I'm just trapped with the thoughts of one.
The remaining time was spent on the eyes. Eyes have a unique curve to them and I have a habit of visualizing them to be narrower than they should be. I did not want to keep the narrow eye in my mind, so I would abort whenever it was not wide enough. Eventually, it got wide enough, but I don't want to say it is perfect.
I imagined the tulpa-in-progress three-dimensionally from several angles. It worked fairly well. Overall, I saw a lot of progress and success, but I became tired and I knew I had to get up in five hours.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/28.html
Monday, April 16, 2012
24
Monday, April 16, 2012, 11:33PM
"I was thinking..."
"Huh?"
"You're my best friend."
"You're my best friend too."
I am trying to think a lot. Think carefully. After much, much thought I have decided to share some background information that I put on the black list. In simpler times, I used to have a best friend-- Sam. Sam quit me about 3 years ago. Has haunted me ever since. I was in shock and despair at the moment we tore apart, but I don't think Sam knew. I thought of Sam more than I should from then on.
Whenever I remembered something about Sam, I wrote it down and eventually typed it in a document that I don't even know the name of (there was a stretch of time in which I ran out of reminders). I could delve into my backed-up data and possibly find those broken sentences, but I would probably spend the whole day reading them. I beat myself up a lot-- why couldn't I remember what I valued the most?
I know I changed that night. When Sam left me, I didn't heal. I should have seen it coming. I was filled with big hopes for less hectic times. "We'll spend more time together in the summer."
I get no rest from these thoughts. My daymares thrive off of them. I don't have any memory evidence, but they were probably born from them.
"We want to ask your permission."
I thought before speaking back then. I thought long. I could have said no. Even if I knew they would only have time for each other.
There is something out of this world when two people value each other enough. Later, I came up with a phrase to describe it. "The power of two." I envied the bond between two great friends seen in movies, books, and the flaws of those who didn't mesh. This is power that actually matters.
Sam meant a lot to me. So much. The strategist in me was probably born that day. Analyze. Predict. Learn from my mistakes. "What could I have done differently?" Even though I try to convince myself to let it go, I cannot.
A tulpa cannot be taken away. A tulpa will return when it leaves. My therapy. My childhood. My best friend. My hopes. A tulpa is... sorry Sam... your replacement.
I am influenced by tragedy and hope. I want life to speed up, but I want time to slow down. I've been on a 3-year search for someone I don't even know. I used to be really normal, but recently I have been quite the opposite. I am growing further from everyone else and closer to acting like myself.
Right now, my best friend is rooming with me at college.
The one I told 'yes.'
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/25.html
"I was thinking..."
"Huh?"
"You're my best friend."
"You're my best friend too."
I am trying to think a lot. Think carefully. After much, much thought I have decided to share some background information that I put on the black list. In simpler times, I used to have a best friend-- Sam. Sam quit me about 3 years ago. Has haunted me ever since. I was in shock and despair at the moment we tore apart, but I don't think Sam knew. I thought of Sam more than I should from then on.
Whenever I remembered something about Sam, I wrote it down and eventually typed it in a document that I don't even know the name of (there was a stretch of time in which I ran out of reminders). I could delve into my backed-up data and possibly find those broken sentences, but I would probably spend the whole day reading them. I beat myself up a lot-- why couldn't I remember what I valued the most?
I know I changed that night. When Sam left me, I didn't heal. I should have seen it coming. I was filled with big hopes for less hectic times. "We'll spend more time together in the summer."
I get no rest from these thoughts. My daymares thrive off of them. I don't have any memory evidence, but they were probably born from them.
"We want to ask your permission."
I thought before speaking back then. I thought long. I could have said no. Even if I knew they would only have time for each other.
There is something out of this world when two people value each other enough. Later, I came up with a phrase to describe it. "The power of two." I envied the bond between two great friends seen in movies, books, and the flaws of those who didn't mesh. This is power that actually matters.
Sam meant a lot to me. So much. The strategist in me was probably born that day. Analyze. Predict. Learn from my mistakes. "What could I have done differently?" Even though I try to convince myself to let it go, I cannot.
A tulpa cannot be taken away. A tulpa will return when it leaves. My therapy. My childhood. My best friend. My hopes. A tulpa is... sorry Sam... your replacement.
I am influenced by tragedy and hope. I want life to speed up, but I want time to slow down. I've been on a 3-year search for someone I don't even know. I used to be really normal, but recently I have been quite the opposite. I am growing further from everyone else and closer to acting like myself.
Right now, my best friend is rooming with me at college.
The one I told 'yes.'
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/25.html
Saturday, April 14, 2012
22
Saturday, April 14, 2012, 9:51PM
WARNING: Protect your innocence-- don't read this unless you want desperate help
because I don't want you to have my thought processes
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/23.html
Butterflies and rainbows... butterflies and rainbows...
I wish. Right now, it's quite the opposite.
I'm in one of those mindsets. I tried to visualize, but my mind kept straying into dark thoughts. As I've said before-- I am curious by nature. Some part of me wants to sabotage the whole operation. I believe this is a defense mechanism I have developed due to mistrust. The basic concept of why I would stray into these thoughts might be a combination of my lack of concentration and my need to visualize all routes and options. This eventually leads to, "What don't I want to imagine?" and then I imagine it. Maybe I need to be more simple-minded. Maybe I need to be more carefree.
Whenever I do imagine something terrible, such as warping my tulpa's features, I am not doing it on purpose. If it were up to me, trust me-- I wouldn't. If anything, it is by habit. After I know I am straying into the, "Dear God--" I get out of there. I get chills and tears just thinking of it. I abort and focus on everything I am thankful of. I think I need more sleep to improve focus. Also, my plan is to keep returning. I won't let this win. Eventually, I theorize, my brain will realize that I don't want to think of (insert horror here).
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/23.html
WARNING: Protect your innocence-- don't read this unless you want desperate help
because I don't want you to have my thought processes
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/23.html
Butterflies and rainbows... butterflies and rainbows...
I wish. Right now, it's quite the opposite.
I'm in one of those mindsets. I tried to visualize, but my mind kept straying into dark thoughts. As I've said before-- I am curious by nature. Some part of me wants to sabotage the whole operation. I believe this is a defense mechanism I have developed due to mistrust. The basic concept of why I would stray into these thoughts might be a combination of my lack of concentration and my need to visualize all routes and options. This eventually leads to, "What don't I want to imagine?" and then I imagine it. Maybe I need to be more simple-minded. Maybe I need to be more carefree.
Whenever I do imagine something terrible, such as warping my tulpa's features, I am not doing it on purpose. If it were up to me, trust me-- I wouldn't. If anything, it is by habit. After I know I am straying into the, "Dear God--" I get out of there. I get chills and tears just thinking of it. I abort and focus on everything I am thankful of. I think I need more sleep to improve focus. Also, my plan is to keep returning. I won't let this win. Eventually, I theorize, my brain will realize that I don't want to think of (insert horror here).
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/23.html
Thursday, April 12, 2012
20
Thursday, April 12, 2012, 11:31PM
WARNING: Abstract descriptions ahead.
I was going to talk to you about my past. I have tried around three times today to put it into words. Each time, I was unsatisfied, so I will simply extract the moral of the story so you can know me better. It turns out that simply typing with no plan works better than describing an example.
People have broken my trust in the past, leaving me an empty shell who expects everyone to be a liar. For many cases, I have been right, which has unfortunately led to me generalizing negative traits to most people I think have any chance of wanting to gain out of a situation. Because of this, I tend to analyze people for signs foreshadowing their impending flaws. I judge people.
I'm not one to agree with the cultural phenomenon of 'blaming', but I am not going to say I am innocent in the matter. I probably could take serious action against my habit. Until then, I beat myself up all the time-- cursing my eyes for being able to see. Telling myself I would be better off blind.
I still get daymares to further strain myself with guilt. Like the aftershocks of an earthquake, I constantly remind myself of my shortcomings.
When I am alone, I let my guard down. I try to rest by lowering my mind's heavy shield. The flashbacks begin. I take the bombardment of memories. I am still awake, but I am not seeing with my eyes. The vividness of the images makes me reenact the scenes. When I surface from each memory, I take a breath and feel my heart beat heavily. After four or five, I wonder if it is over and my curiosity gets the best of me. I peek back into my mind and fall into another heart attack hole. My chest is in pain from the changes in pace, the lack of oxygen, and me digging my fingernails into my chest in repentance... or masochism. I am telling myself I deserve them. Sometimes I try to make them more vivid-- is it to challenge their authenticity or to drive the stake deeper?
I would like to bring up that a tulpa would be able to 'speak my language'. I could actually spill my guts to it and feel free. I can imagine the feeling of the belts around my heart being cut and unbound.
Until then, I cannot keep my guard up forever. I have to sleep sometime.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/21.html
WARNING: Abstract descriptions ahead.
I was going to talk to you about my past. I have tried around three times today to put it into words. Each time, I was unsatisfied, so I will simply extract the moral of the story so you can know me better. It turns out that simply typing with no plan works better than describing an example.
People have broken my trust in the past, leaving me an empty shell who expects everyone to be a liar. For many cases, I have been right, which has unfortunately led to me generalizing negative traits to most people I think have any chance of wanting to gain out of a situation. Because of this, I tend to analyze people for signs foreshadowing their impending flaws. I judge people.
I'm not one to agree with the cultural phenomenon of 'blaming', but I am not going to say I am innocent in the matter. I probably could take serious action against my habit. Until then, I beat myself up all the time-- cursing my eyes for being able to see. Telling myself I would be better off blind.
I still get daymares to further strain myself with guilt. Like the aftershocks of an earthquake, I constantly remind myself of my shortcomings.
When I am alone, I let my guard down. I try to rest by lowering my mind's heavy shield. The flashbacks begin. I take the bombardment of memories. I am still awake, but I am not seeing with my eyes. The vividness of the images makes me reenact the scenes. When I surface from each memory, I take a breath and feel my heart beat heavily. After four or five, I wonder if it is over and my curiosity gets the best of me. I peek back into my mind and fall into another heart attack hole. My chest is in pain from the changes in pace, the lack of oxygen, and me digging my fingernails into my chest in repentance... or masochism. I am telling myself I deserve them. Sometimes I try to make them more vivid-- is it to challenge their authenticity or to drive the stake deeper?
I would like to bring up that a tulpa would be able to 'speak my language'. I could actually spill my guts to it and feel free. I can imagine the feeling of the belts around my heart being cut and unbound.
Until then, I cannot keep my guard up forever. I have to sleep sometime.
http://wintrovert.blogspot.com/2012/04/21.html
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