broke: all my good actions are faked and contrived & I'm a bad person secretly
woke: the self is what I perform and therefore I am as real as what I do
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@khoairollingaround
broke: all my good actions are faked and contrived & I'm a bad person secretly
woke: the self is what I perform and therefore I am as real as what I do
i can fantasize all that i want, but the truth is, i probably will be the same person in 10, 20 years (if i am lucky to live long) and i will probably still feel so fucking lonely, ashamed of something that i am not sure of, somewhat hating myself, not a good friend and partner, and i will still blame it on my parents and its embarrassing as hell man.
the only way out is through but fuuuuuuuuuck fuuuuucckkkk cant i like scooch past or something
you're just mad because you're hungry and tired and your legs hurt and you head hurts and you're too hot and you have depression
fuuuuck i just realized that the future idealized version of myself cant exist without current me being the catalyst for change and doing hard things. has anybody heard about this
after a day of arguing i be cutting up fruits for him to eat when he gets home. the apple doesnt fall far from the tree thing you know.
one thing about me is that I'm looking stuff up. you mentioned something and I don't know it? I am pulling out my phone and googling that shit. an actor? theoretical physics? a world leader? a vocabulary word? I am on the wikipedia page as we speak
it's like why do i feel ashamed of every action or inaction i ever make. will i ever be ok with myself. will i ever just let it be
loudly going "YOU'RE GOOD YOU'RE GOOD" to myself to ward off the memory of every embarrassing thing i've ever done
i’m so over being lonely.
this feels sour in my throat.
writing? oh, i’m definitely writing. in my head. during the most inconvenient times. like in the shower or when i’m about to fall asleep. actual typing? no, no, we don’t do that here.
I love cooking things and then not sharing them with people. For me, cooking is really an act of disconnection and hatred.
i cannot hate myself into a version of me i will love.
i cannot punish myself in any way that will unmake the past.
this was a strange year, i have never been around death this frequent. maybe it comes with age. it is, in the end, how all lives end.
goodbye my fragile baby quờ, i will miss you so much. i am so sorry.
qua nhà ngủ với bà, sáng đi ăn sáng cùng bà.
in the middle of mourning and grief, of attending funerals of loved ones, of friends with new babies and milestones, i feel like time is choking me in the neck.
is this post selfish, am i making this about me again?
i used to have this tiny laptop-thing that mom gave me, and i used to write my diary in that everyday for a year. i am glad i keep this. i read this and i was like, i love her. she was always trying to be better, she was always worrying about her friends and her study and her crush and she was kind and funny and she was always making list out of everything. i don’t remember being this cute lol.