diary 28
14 March 2017
It’s going to be alright
will byers stan first human second
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
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diary 28
14 March 2017
It’s going to be alright
diary 27
3 March 2017
We agreed never to speak again.
I’m moving on, and I forget the loneliness at times, but it’s the hardest during late nights like this.
I wish there was a way I could sleep without the tossing and turning, and the need to think of you in my arms.
diary 26
11 January 2017
It’s been nine days since I saw her off, after walking her dog Leo one last time.
The folks in the department notice I’m not the same person I was last semester. I’ve started tucking my shirt in. I’m telling fewer jokes. I smile less.
A big part, I think, of why I struggled over the summer about her was because I didn’t have that many friends I could talk to about my emotions. That’s not to say I didn’t have friends. It’s just -- they told me they’ve heard the same emotional story, over and over and over again, like the boy who cried wolf, and they were getting tired of it.
That just makes me feel more alone. But I’ve been alone for a while, and I can continue to be. She told me she had her group of friends, the same group she bakes pizza with, the same group that comes together to survive in the harsh Chicago winters and academic environment. I don’t really have a group like that. I’ve never had a group like that. The closest thing is the “boozy brunch fam” the group of friends with whom I would frequent boozy brunches with, during a New York summer, and get shitfaced. I don’t really consider most of them close enough to tell my problems to (except for maybe one), and one of them would roll her eyes anyway.
The next closest thing to that kind of warm family I have is the group here at the math department, but again I don’t think I should burden them with anything. I don’t talk to my actual family about these issues either.
Brandon doesn’t really help either despite being my best friend. He listens, but he doesn’t understand. I can’t make him understand. I don’t think I can make anyone understand -- that’s not something anyone can just force others to do, they have to be willing to understand in the first place. And he’s heard this “tragic love story” already. Another eye-roller.
I’ve resolved to do fewer drugs. I’ve resolved to read more. I’ve resolved to pass comps. I’ve resolved to be more well informed. I’ve resolved to do more in local politics. I’ve resolved to find an advisor. I’ve resolved to kick ass. I’ve resolved to like myself more.
It’s a new year, it’s a new me. It’s time to grow the fuck up. It’s time to be less annoying. It’s time to be a boss ass bitch. It’s time to look forward and don’t look back.
It’s time to be a little less Bojack Horseman and a little more Princess Carolyn.
And maybe when I come back from this adventure I’ve set myself out on, I’ll see her again. And maybe I’ll feel alright. I’m doing alright.
diary 25
10 November 2016
Welcome to fascist America
diary 24
19 October 2016
At least when we all go to hell, it won’t feel so lonely.
diary 23
19 October 2016
I spend most of my time studying mathematics and sitting around, listening to sad music, feeling sorry for myself.
diary 22
26 September 2016
The fact that the hotheaded Trump acts like a child in front of the cool, calculating Clinton is appropriate, considering how neoliberalism breeds fascism.
diary 21
9 September 2016
I cut out so many people from my life.
Am I doing that thing where I’m trying to run away from my emotional problems and then realizing I can never do that?
Am I doomed?
Am I depressed?
I feel that maybe I should try and improve myself, but I don’t want to. I don’t feel that I deserve to.
Maybe I like Bojack Horseman so much and sharing it with people because it’s a cry for help.
diary 20
9 September 2016
But we all deserve love
Even on the days when we aren’t our best
‘Cuz we all suck, but love can make us suck less
We all deserve love
It’s the very best part of being alive
And I should know, I just turned twenty-five
- Lower Your Expectations, Bo Burnham
If I could sacrifice myself with no one noticing and as a result, the world became a better place for everyone, then I would do it.
Everyone deserves love -- but I don’t think I do.
I’ve hurt too many people for it.
If only good could be done, by leaving forever.
diary 19
1 September 2016
It’s been one month since I last saw and spoke with you, and you still weigh on my mind.
diary 18
28 August 2016
Sweet Jesus I need to get laid
Politics as a Game: some notes on Hillary Clinton
One thing that the Internet and social media has given us, as a species, is the ability to be fully self-conscious and self-aware in a global sense. We, the non-academic Americans, can now fully realize with a click of a button the nuances and intricacies that our high school history classes ignorantly missed or deliberately misled, and come away with a fuller realization of the nature of our country in relation with, not only its own internal domestic biology, but also other nations and their respective histories. It is then our moral duty, as citizens, to utilize the technology we have and learn as much as we can with regards to our current state of affairs -- especially in times that demand it.
These notes are intended to be a collection of information and thoughts with an emphasis on the United States 2016 presidential election, and hopefully does not come out as yet another trite thinkpiece.
diary 17
23 August 2016
It gets easier. Everyday it gets a little easier. But you gotta do it everyday. That's the hard part. But it does get easier.
diary 16
23 August 2016
Things I’ve done to cope with sadness:
1. Watch the clip from Shrek with the song Hallelujah
2. Watch the clip from Shrek 2 with the song Accidentally in Love
3. Watch the clip from Shrek 2 with the song I Need a Hero
4. Cry
diary 15
16 August 2016
Some things I want:
I want you to call yourself “your girl” in relation to me. This sounds extremely misogynistic, but I have this desire because I remember when you went to your work event and came back home with two bottles of wine, the first thing you said to me was “hey guess what, there was free alch at the event. your girl just got us two bottles of wine.” and my first thought was oh. interesting terminology. wow, no one’s ever called themselves my girl in relation to me.
I want to be single but also want to be with you and only you forever. I know we’re (eye roll) fucking millennials trapped in the 21st century dating game, but I fucking hate pretending that I like other people when no one’s made me hate them more than you, I hate you so much for all your little quirks and annoyances, but I want to suffer from them until the day I die because they’re still you and I want to be with you. But I also want to spend a few years being single and fucking around. But I also don’t want to get emotionally attached. But god sex is great. But god love is greater.
I want to be able to treat your body again and again like a thirsty man drinks water -- and drown in it. I have literally memorized the contours of your cute little fucking smug patronizing smile, and I love the way your face sorta moves to the side entirely when you make a >:T face which you tend to do and it’s literally the cutest thing in the world. Aside from your cute, cute Midwestern accent that you get when you’re tipsy. Aside from the fact that you love to show off pictures of your younger sister when you’re drunk as fuck because that fact is also incredibly fucking cute, you Lt. Maes Hughes piece of adorable garbage.
I want to do to you what misogynists do to sex addicts -- like a poet using a dildo, in an overly inflated metaphor about objectification. I want to put you up on a pedestal made of shit because you are actually pretty horrible sometimes to some people, but so is everyone, and that’s okay because I want to be with you because that’s still you and I want to be with you, and also I have a penchant towards iconoclasm (in particular towards smashing away patriarchal pedestals). I want to fuck you until you smile one of your wide dimpled smiles and gasp you’re unreal and this is the best sex I’ve ever had and oh god I’m coming again.* I want to spank you until I leave a handprint on your fucking juicy ass holy shit. I want you to feel me get harder as you grip my cock with one of your patented famous handjob techniques. I want to feel you throb around my dick as we come together and you ask Can you feel me?. I want to smell your purple hair as we spoon. I want to feel your toes curl with mine. I want to wake up at 5 AM because my cock grew hard against your wet cunt and we rinse and repeat the above, again and again and again. And we fall asleep, again.
I want to marry you then get divorced because of irreconcilable differences and then rekindle our love over the divorce process and then fall in love again just as the divorce is finalized and I have to stay a hundred feet away from you and then we get married again for an hour until I have to leave (just like the time when I asked if you would be in a relationship with me for an hour before I left Chicago -- shortest relationship ever, we joked, after we complained about the tiresome parts of dating (especially long-distance dating)) and we would divorce and marry and divorce and marry and I want to do that until we both die together. I just want to be with you for that long.
I want to message you but I’m afraid that if I do, and I tell you everything, about how I feel and what I want, then you’re going to say no and leave forever. I know you want to be single for a while because you’ve been in relationships your whole life, I totally get that, that’s why I ended my previous relationship. I don’t want a long distance relationship either. But honestly, my god, I would love to throw all of that away if I could just be with you. Jesus, this timing sucks. Maybe I’m overhyping you because of the limited amount of time we spent together? Maybe if we had spent more time together then we would come to hate each other more and I wouldn’t be here moping into empty 1s and 0s? Maybe you’re in the same boat of fear that I’m in and don’t want to say anything out of shame or fear of looking like a dope for catching sentiments in this awful goddamn fucking prison of a game called 21st century online dating? Neither of us want a long distance relationship. You don’t want a relationship at all. You want to be single for a bit, and that’s fine, I had my time like that too. I don’t want to get in the way of you being single for once in your life. But also maybe I’m just saying all of this because I don’t want to get outright rejected. I don’t want to talk with you because (1) what’s the point, if you don’t want to be with me? I’d be so despondent. We could be friends, sure, I’d love that, but right now, I love you and if you don’t want this, that’s fine too, but then I wouldn’t want to talk with you anyway so I’ll just end up being despondent for a while until I’m healthy again to talk with you and be an actual fucking human being -- but I’m currently being despondent anyway! (2) And if I actually decide to talk to you, I’m afraid I’ll get my hopes up, and you’ll crush them anyway. And then I’m back in case (1). But for possibly a longer time? In either case, at least one of us is sitting alone in their room curled up in the fetal position and just hurting for a while. In both cases, I know that at most it’ll be me.
I want to know your thoughts. I want to know your opinions on politics. I want to know your arguments for your philosophical positions. I want to know your justifications for drone striking children in the Middle East. I want to know your first and last dreams and aspirations. I want to know your deepest, nagging fear locked away in the back of your mind. I want to know the secrets you keep from certain people, except maybe mine because I know you’d want me to respect that. I want to know why your favorite songs are those, why your favorite thing to cook is pizza (I actually know this one -- there’s a communal element to it and you love the act of feeding other people (not feeding itself necessarily); maybe it’s tied to your no-nonsense get-shit-done attitude of caring for your community), and why you think travel is inherently interesting (I also know this one because you told me it necessitates new people, new places, just new experiences, etc, and I wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer; you wrote to some fucking lit mags, gimme that quality star writing sweet Jesus). I want to know why you cried for two hours once in front of your boyfriend. I want to know why you worked once as an operator for the suicide hotline. I want to know if you want to know about my job history because I’m a pretentious narcissist. I want to know if you’re thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of you. I want to say we both know the feelings are there, but neither of us can be with each other. That sucks ass. It’s easier to pretend you don’t like me at all. And hell, maybe that’s the more probable reality. Maybe I’m just fooling myself again. I’m paralyzed. All we can do is sit and hurt.
I want you.
*A comment on this remarking that this statement is essentially bragging would in itself make the brag more obvious whereas without the comment would retain the subtlety of the brag; as I don’t want to brag, neither through explicit bravado or self-conscious, postmodern commentary, I’ll leave an asterisk mark and a pretentious footnote that’s hopefully so long-looking and intimidating that it immediately repulses the reader away from further reading (the fact that I’m making the joke about the footnote being so phallic is further indicative of the inescapable trappings of Ideology. God I truly hope you don’t find this diary somehow and then realize that this is about you and how fucking weird I am).
diary 14
11 August 2016
You bring out the best in me
so that without you
only the worst remains
diary 13
10 August 2016
Dear Maggy,
The song Accidentally in Love which I am currently listening to, from the movie Shrek 2, was nominated for an Academy Award in 2004. I guess I am writing to say that I can see why now.
My stomach literally hurts because I miss you so much. It’s literally painful. It is literally the worst feeling I have ever felt, and I have been kicked in the balls. And had my heart broken - but by someone else, and not as much. I have also been rejected from some good graduate schools, wow I was so bad on the GRE. It is worse than my stomach after the night I had the curry phaal challenge from Bricklane Curry House and consumed so much lassi I diarrhead molten fire at 5 AM. It felt like I was being repeatedly punched in the chest. This is mustard gas. It’s a fucking poison. You are a fucking poison. A poison I would gladly drink.
I miss you. Please come back. Please start a long distance relationship with me. Please just be with me. I’ll give up my job, I’ll give up my dreams, I’ll give it all up if I could be with you, but I know that’s not the kind of guy you want, so I will draw the line at there. I will be the submissive stay-at-home-dad while you do the corporate pants-wearing and then end up sleeping with your male secretaries while I’m heartbroken at home because I gave you EVERYTHING. I would vote for Hillary Clinton for you because I would literally abandon my principles because fuck them, I’m with you. And I would gladly take them back after realizing you like me having principles. I just like you so painfully much I just want you to like me back as much so I’m desperate for anything. Like the character Jake says to the character Lainie from the movie Sleeping with Other People, I know we would both fail in long distance relationships because we just fail at these sorts of things because they’re hard it’s not necessarily our fault, despite failing at all of this, I would rather fail with you than anyone else. And god I know I’m afraid of a relationship based on me genuinely loving you and you loving me mainly because I was the only one to show you that much affection, and us eventually growing distant because you don’t love me as much as I love you. But these are the real and honest gutwrenching feelings I have.
I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.
tobias