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aurorahasinsomn1a

I just want to let everyone and the universe know that I'm very very cross with @beyondmemoria rn. We're absolutely not friends and I'm not talking to her rn

memorymessage

we are not on good terms for real

i didn't know bts and jb were performing so i was freakin out a lil

@aurorahasinsomn1a

aurorahasinsomn1a

@beyondmemoria

memorymessage

BEEF TEAM BLESS UP

and they made me realize i haven't been happy for a long time

so when i feel myself slipping back into the despair, i just remember how i woke up in my friend's bed, went to work, and had a good, fun, chill time full of jokes and welcoming vibes

the panic attacks were just there—beneath the surface—but the laughter kept it at bay

my brothers

and holy, that game he made?! such a fun downtime game. he said he wants to get it into an arcade cabinet and--yes! it would be the perfect arcade game!

damn, i work with such talented, cool people

i'm in my 30s, btw. that is the stage of life i'm in.

but basically just an overgrown child.

every time i say my age or show my id, i get the shocked face followed by, "i thought you were (insert guess between 16-20, depending on what i'm wearing or how many zits i have that day)!"

fitting, i suppose—because for any emotional maturity and objective intellect i claim to possess, it's hardly ever applicable.

"i give myself very good advice, but i very seldom follow it. that explains the trouble that i'm always in."

the external matches the internal, despite any false protest i might claim in the contrary.

i now share a 12-month lease for an apartment with a man who still doesn't know whether he's coming or going—someone who won't be there for sickness or medical emergencies. and here i am: a chronically ill person.

i've willfully trapped myself in a prison of isolation and uncertainty.

how... moronic... could i possibly be?

yes, i'm an adult. at 30, i should live alone and depend on myself. but i don't want to. i can't yet, as illustrated by this recent health regression. i didn't agree to this apartment under the premise of becoming isolated—i always told him that i expected this apartment to make things easier and facilitate being able to see him more, not less.

i'm- i'm just not at the independent stage of life yet. i still need help. i know my needs.

hell, i don't even think it's reasonable for anyone to live alone, for any reason. maybe that's just my specific set of life values, being raised in a family-oriented environment. i feel like you should at least have a friend or roommate, or, hell- a cat!

but this apartment has a pet ban.

i would just be... alone.

i'm willing to go so far as to say that living alone makes you mentally unwell. i have even personally witnessed this. multiple times, even.

beyond that, as said: he doesn't know whether he's coming or going. to the very core of that phrase. he's my boyfriend, but he's also my boss. if we broke up, i would lose everything--if not because he would fire me or kick me out, then because i wouldn't be able to stand the pain of being around him.

am i stupid or am i stupid?

last week, before the health flare, my mom warned me of exactly this, but i countered with: well, i may as well take what he's offering anyway. who would turn down an apartment?

idiot. idealist. idiot. i know how he makes me feel. i know i wouldn't be able to stand it if our relationship degraded further than it already has. and idiot-me still agreed to the apartment, with no evidence things would ever get better or be truly okay.

dumb

dumbass

and i'm still finding so much out about long covid and its vascular inflammatory processes--i've only just now learned that edothelial dysfunction, the main process i suspect to be behind my specific long covid symptoms, also causes anxiety and depression. it's no fucking wonder i become an emotional wreck when i get vascular pain and brain fog spikes--because it's not even purely emotional, it's down to a physical inflammatory issue.

depending on how long and intensive this current regression is, i may need to restart the process of getting into the long covid clinic--which is 3 hours away, and something i would need help with.

my mom is my current help in life, and i may be shooting myself in the foot by moving away—i may end up with no one and nothing. again, i still don't know how bad this flare is, but i do know it has only gotten worse the last week alone.

not to mention, the poor ventilation in the apartment gave me a physical reaction on the very first night i stayed there.

i am... so overwhelmed.

why did we rush into this?

it could not have been any worse

that i woke up

and my face was swollen

how could it be? that all this has happened?

and i cannot find the happiness?

my body cannot find its health?

and i can only envision

a swift exit

and i used to dream of some far off goal of when i would be able to have an apartment with a view

one exactly like this, with history in its walls--with old, sturdy wood and high ceilings

now it's just

sitting there

it's just sitting there

it's in our names and it's just sitting there...

the refuge he wanted me to have...

empty

i'm still here

after all, i'm still here

and i love my mom so much

i don't want to leave

i feel like... me living here has been good for both of us. we've always been so distant, off and on here and there, but our relationship has been so good lately. even when we fight or have differences--we talk about them.

i'm so proud of my mom

and... i'll never forget 2025

for how horrible it was

my mom was there

"i signed a lease with you that is longer than the amount of time we've known each other. i've never done that for anyone."

holding. gripping. clawing.

help

i slept in the new apartment for the first time.

woke up with a swollen face, raw throat, and brain fog.

building is old--each unit has shared ventilation from back when there was a basement cooling system ("swamp cooler")--and so, everyone else's personal fumes and exhaust are intertwined. nightmare scenario for someone as sensitive and sick as i am/have been.

smelled smoke bleeding in through the vents. mom and boyfriend said it smelled like weed, but it smelled worse than that to me. i usually like the smell of weed--reminds me of my cousin's room back in the day. this was worse--more of a burnt smell, with no pleasant undertone like weed has.

boyfriend spent a couple hours in the afternoon sealing the shared vents with tape. they're useless anyway--don't know why they weren't sealed decades ago.

hope it helps. don't know yet. left shortly after to go spend some time at the pool.

now i'm alone, at my mom's-

...

sick.

i've been sick again.

for almost a week now.

and i just-

i can't believe this is happening to me again. it started happening last sunday--the brain fog; the fatigue; the vascular facial pain and numbness.

why? why now? i have an apartment with my boyfriend. i'm supposed to be... happy? more often than not i only feel despair--crying out to no one with tear-sodden cheeks, asking to be okay again.

please let me be okay again.

it had been so long since i last felt like this that i forgot what it was like.

i mean, i've had flares, but the flares were usually triggered by something, like lack of sleep, and they would usually clear up. this time? it just happened. out of nowhere. i was out with my friend, and suddenly started getting fatigued. almost fainted. had to be taken home.

got worse over the next few days. today is by far the worst. all the symptoms are active and fully agitated. tomorrow, it will have been a week of unrelenting symptom flares and regression.

i can't let this take my life from me. i can't. working is the only stability i have. i have to work. if i don't work, i don't see him. i have no more motivation. working together is almost all we have left these days.

and i-

i have to admit what my real feelings are.

there's a reason i love the film 'obsession' so much, though i've used distancing language to praise its theming and filmography.

there's no distance there, truly.

i feel like i'm nikki.

i feel like he's my bear.

i didn't want to be in love. i didn't want to be found. i was happy on my own--in my bubble of an isolated, slow life.

then he coaxed me out. and i thought it could be fun--i thought it could be a lighthearted fling. cute. getting the attention of an intriguing older guy. nothing too serious.

then, there was... a night--an expensive hotel suite; confessions; bonding; discoveries...

complete surrender.

i haven't looked at him the same way since.

and i warned him.

my family warned him.

i am fragile. i have had a hard life. i am sick. i require conscientious handling.

and he still took everything i had to offer.

he should have listened, and left well enough alone.

but now-

i can't...

i can't look at him the same anymore.

because--

"i love you so, so, so, so, so much. i don't think i could live without you."

"i love you... in every reality."

irrevocable.

and it didn't take long after that for him to start pulling away. he would still take everything i gave--still does--but now he is distant. because he takes what i give, and gives it elsewhere, instead of giving back.

and i try to be happy with the offerings to fill the gap of emotional reciprocity--he got me an apartment, for fuck's sake. but... that's the pathetic part, and it's why i relate to nikki--because i only feel compelled to move when he's watching.

no. worse.

it's down to my physical body--elucidated by how my symptoms abate around him.

the health episodes hit so, so much harder when he's not around.

when he's near, it's like i can rally and be okay. i can sleep without it feeling like i won't wake up if i close my eyes, as long as it's next to him. i don't feel the pain anymore, at least for awhile.

the fog clears. i can see. and even if the fog doesn't clear--he makes me feel like it's okay to not be able to see for awhile.

and i don't even know why i feel like this. i don't understand it at all. because... because maybe he hasn't made me feel truly okay for a long time now. but i still remember when he did. and that remembrance is powerful enough to affect in real-time.

love is- is the worst feeling in the whole world if it's not reciprocated.

i'd rather have nothing than to know how good it could feel, but never be able to capture it again.

and i would do anything to make this easier.

i would do...

anything.

to make it easier.

i can't stand laying here.

waiting.

"i'm always waiting for you."

and he won't even reply.

memorymessage

this goes away starting next week.

does that mean it won't be back again? does that mean i won't someday be right back where i started? of course not--i have to remain pragmatic.

but...

but next week there will be the assurance of a protected building, and a room with a locked door that no one except he and i can enter, with all my belongings therein.

his, too. reminders all around.

i will not feel hypervigilant about footsteps; i will not tiptoe quietly in fear of waking someone and getting reprimanded; i will not have to be vigilant of if someone is drinking; i will not be shoved into "bedrooms" the size of a closet; i will be able to do my laundry when i want without getting nagged about the noise of the washer; i will not fear my own family breaking into my room while i'm working

i will not have to fear them anymore.

...but...

i do fear the cost.

what does this place mean to him? is it just somewhere to dispose of me while he spends more time away? does he think this means i'll be okay with seeing him less? will he even ever stay there with me?

what is the unspoken price?

perhaps i won't fear what the footsteps mean anymore, but, even now, away from home, they make me a peculiar kind of anxious. i told him before that being able to hear the heavy door to the inside of the building makes my heart briefly speed up, because... i just keep hoping... it's him—hoping he's thinking of me and coming.

so many times, though... he doesn't. doesn't think of me; doesn't come. so many times he's only wanted away. away, away, away.

i can only hope for better days.

i don't want to think of the price—prices i would weigh against my own safety.

if only he knew.

i would sacrifice my safety if it meant being by his side.

so, please... please don't let this apartment be a cage of sadness and loneliness masquerading as a facade of freedom and safety.

because i genuinely don't know which i'd pick if that were the case. i'd probably go back to being unsafe if the alternative was long stretches of utter solitude and loneliness in my "safe" confinement.

so emotional and so emotionally dead simultaneously

i genuinely believe there can never exist a political content creator community that can foster an ideology separate to personal vendettas

there is fuckall reason for there to be any animosity among fans of hasan and fans of badempanada, other than personal vendettas

i genuinely cannot stand personal vendettas at all. they both have pros and cons to their respective viewpoints, but, ultimately, have similar goals. badempanada does not like hasan, or vice-versa. sure. great. why should i, someone who consumes both of their content, and has a personal opinion of both of them completely separate to how they feel about each other, "pick a side"?

why should anyone "pick a side"?

i can't stand the people who are also unwilling to acknowledge bias shaping. if you liked badempanada all the way up to the point that he started making more commentary against hasan's political strategies, then you have personal bias to acknowledge. your issue isn't with badempanada's views--your issue is "he came after my fav!"

i cannot stand this behavior at all

i don't think it's possible for political commentary to divorce itself from the inherent operation of commentary communities in general. everything is petty and drama, all of the time.

there is not a single thing that badempanada or his community could say that would make me stop watching hasan's content and shaping my own opinion of it; there is not a single thing that hasan or his community could say that would make me stop watching badempanada's content and shaping my own opinion of it.

they both have values; they both have flaws. i will never divorce from one because of the complaints from the other. no one should, as far as i'm concerned.

ideologically, they are more aligned that they are not--their strategies are completely different. there's value in taking in both perspectives while also shaping your own.

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