#diary style

[treefrogcyltrithian]

Diary Style Short Writing Test

I Still Think Titling These is Stupid - Abel 11/13/03 My friend Aoela. ‘Aoela is just so… Aoela,’ That's what a normal person would say. Instead it's usually just– bleh, epithets. Aoela the Amazing, Aoela the Gorgeous, Aoela the Aoela, the list goes on and on, because she's ‘one of a kind’—the worst kind. I hate Aoela. Its just a hop, half a skip, and three quarters a jump then she's at my door step. No, never ‘Rich brown curls and emerald green eyes’, I'm met with puke eyes, and dirt cosplaying as hair. Save your sympathy, I'm used to it. Knock, pause, knock knock, pause, knock knock, I hear it seven days a week, four weeks a month, twelve months a year, every day since we popped out of the womb, she makes the journey. I hate how comfortable she is, in my house, with my family! ugh. I hate how she learned to push every button she finds, if it weren't for her I wouldn't even know I had buttons. I hate the way my parents look at me when I lead her up to my room. Ha, id laugh except the joke’s never on them. I hate how her presence makes my room smaller, it's impossible not to get close. I hate how I can't even think when I do, if I could I wouldn't be close in the first place. I hate how she leaves. Every day by, or before, 7pm. Why does the heater leave with her? I hate how she always catches me staring from across the street. Like god, it's not like I was hiding it, so you can stop smiling like that. And you know what? With all this crap, there is one thing I really hate the most. I hate how, even if I could ignore her knocking, close the door, say ‘not today’, take a step back, or not find her emerald eyes from across the street. Even IF all that was possible, I'd still pretend it wasn't, because she's so Aoela, and I could never hate that.

My Abel - Aoela 11/14/03 (pre-journey) Abel's a mess, a dork, and an idiot. Abel is probably waiting at his window right now as I'm writing this (note: just checked, he was) Abel was there on day one. Our moms say we had our first smiles when we met in the hospital, Abel says he was probably being polite. My Abel? Polite? Nice try. Abel's an ass, I love it. He keeps writing about me in his diary. I wonder if he thinks I can't read. When I called out Sophie today, he smiled, with his teeth. Gosh I almost died of joy in that stupid cafeteria. Hm, sucks that it means he's just gonna to be extra careful not to do it again now. Yesterday Mrs. Sanderson gave me that look again, the ‘just get it over with already’ look. If I could, I’d tell her to be more patient. If she blows my whole deal and sends me straight back to the friend zone, well then I'll have to retitle this, and that would be annoying, wouldn't it? Imagine that ‘My Friend Abel’, it's gross. I mean I'd have to change the whole passage too, ‘Abel's kinda fine I guess, he's whatever or something, idk’. Never, if I ever settle like that I want you, yes YOU, to take me out back and put me out of my misery. My friend Abel, he’s dumb enough to believe that's what he is. But he’ll always be my Abel. Strike friend, he's mine.

I felt motivated, and now I have no idea what to do with my newest thing...

Is this what Tumblr's even for? I think so. Either way, I'm doing this.

[the-soft-scholar]

weekly reflection

this week felt like walking through a quiet forest. some days the path was clear, sunlight spilling between the trees, other days the fog settled low, softening edges and hiding familiar markers.

i learned that patience is not passive, that sitting with a thought until it unfolds is sometimes the most courageous act.

i noticed moments of peace— a cup of tea in the morning, the way sunlight hit my desk just right, the hush of evening before the world intrudes.

i am letting go of small anxieties that have no claim on my attention, and of expectations that weigh heavier than comfort. i am learning that peace does not require perfection, only the willingness to return to soft, steady rhythms.

the week ends quietly, like a tide pulling back, leaving space for reflection, for rest, for gentle growth.

[vsh-69]

existentialism (poem)

last night i was spiraling a bit and ended up writing some slightly incoherent babble about how weird it is to notice yourself experiencing existentialism. very 'woke' of me (in the original sense, not the bastardized one), lol. anyway, i turned those thoughts into a poem! honestly, it was super cathartic to reread and dissect everything, highly recommend!

[i-am-snek-boop-boop]

New Year

I guess it goes without saying that I've got some New Years resolutions that I'm not entirely sure I intend to keep. I want to write more and travel more; say yes more and be positive more. Laugh and love and live. Enjoy life as it is meant to be enjoyed - one moment at a time. To cry when I am down and let it all out, let go of grudges and apologise and take blame. Self growth is something that I will strive for next year, to help myself become more comfortable in my own skin.

To everyone who sees this, laugh. Right now, no questions asked, just laugh and enjoy the fact that you are smiling. Enjoy this moment and relax. I wish everyone a very happy new year and I wish everyone the strength to make it another year. To not only live this year, but to conquer it. Make this year your bitch and love every second of it, bad and good and everything.

I want to thank 2018 for being a year of massive personal growth, thank you to 2018 for being the year I decided to start writing down my poetry and believing in it instead of ridiculing it. Thank you, 2018, for giving me challenges that I have overcome and as such, have grown as a person. Thank you 2018, for being a year dedicated to learning to love myself. I look to 2019 with hope in my heart and excitement in my soul.

It has taken me a long, long year to get to where I am right now and I look forward to another year, set with challenges and good times alike, so that I will be able to look upon the person who I am right now, and know that I have changed for the better.

Thank you to everyone and everything that made this year a good one. Good luck to all of you for 2019.

[kaijuu-kat]

im so lonely i can actually feel it like a force outside of my skin.

I think its started to be really bad for my health, having no deep connection with really any other human. 

hopefully it’ll get better in september, stay positive.

[lostinmyparallelworlds]

Shit this is why I never got over myself and googled “lithromantic” before.

I was so afraid that this would be the shoe that fit me. And now it looks like that is very much the way it is.

Being lithromantic is not being able to stand people being romantic towards you or being in a romantic relationship, for some people (like me) it can feel like they can’t breath and they’re going to be physically sick. That doesn’t mean they don’t feel romantic attraction, it just gets replaced by repulsion once those feelings are reciprocated.

It’s like someone dangling candy in front of your face, but every time you actually catch it, it turns to ashes in you mouth. And not just that, you hurt people in the process. Strangers, people you care about,... You fail expectations: Society’s, potential partner’s(, my mom’s) and there is no chance you’ll ever be able to explain yourself. I’ve tried to explain asexuality to people in real life, they didn’t believe it was a thing. Lith is even worse. It makes you sound like a horrible, selfish person. I’ve seen some people even characterize it as a trait of Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

I’m a nice fucking person, goddamn it. I step on a snail and I feel bad for a week. I hate hurting people. And I also hate not getting what everyone else gets, even though sometimes (and I don’t like admitting this, even to myself, but it’s true) I want it SO BADLY. I want to cuddle up with someone on the couch and kiss them and feel loved. I come close with some platonic friendships I have, but I actually want the real deal. But as soon as it gets concrete, I still want that, in theory, but in my concrete situation it makes me want to puke. It is literally unbearable.

I tried pushing the feeling away, but it is so powerful. Like being stuck in a very tight space, for a claustrophobic. It’s not like I’m afraid to commit, that’s not it. It doesn’t have to be headed to be serious or long term for that feeling to arrive. Any romantic notion will do. I get out of said situation and after the relief has faded I’m stuck with that longing again which, I’m starting to suspect now, will never get fullfilled. I want a future. I want to have a partner I can grow old with. God forbid- I want to experience sex and I want to feel that little spark I hear so much about when unrequited love gets real. But now, suddenly, all of that seems really far away. I actually feel myself grasping at straws - That it’s really just a disorder and that it’s treatable or something.

I suddenly feel like life robbed me of one of the most crucial sources for happiness. And I get to be called and feel like a bad person along the way. A player, and ice queen, someone who collects hearts like trophies. I read that I’m addicted to the “thrill of the chase” That I should treat it like any other addiction by putting myself into those tight spaces on purpose, that make me feel like I’m buried alive, until I become numb to the anxiety. That I need to learn there is pleasure to be found in other ways than emotional manipulation. Yet I can’t even flirt.

Why did it have to be that? Why can’t I be gay? Or... literally anything else (except, like, the creepy stuff like necrophilia or pedophilia)?

I feel like I’m gonna struggle with this for a while. I woud love to come out of it all with a more positive output. Just now, I would have hated to read this text. I wanted some texts that offered me some perspective, an idea of a happy future alongside this “thing” that’s always been there but never addressed. And there are some. To find an aromantic partner to be in a relationship with etc. But I don’t think I can hear it yet.

I think I need to let go of the hope that I will get to have it all and to make peace with the fact, that while life gave me okayish looks, an IQ that is basically considered genius and a serious talent for many artistic things, it also denied me the chance to ever be happy with a romantic partner. If, by some chance, that changes and I DO get to have it all, I’ll let all the other liths out there know how I did it. But for now, I’m not counting on it. It is a doozy but I hope I’ll be alright. And, also for now, I think I still need to hold onto a tiny bit of hope, that I’m wrong.

Someone who has already gone through this, could you maybe talk to me about it?

[tommarvoloriddle-thediary]

[applesauce78gerita]

August 22, 2016 (Part 1 of 2)

Today…um…where do I begin?

I’m in a sea of white…then all the sudden Professor Oak asks if I’m a boy or a girl.

Me: I’m Alex. Prof Oak: So you’re a boy. Me: What?

I’m too disoriented to correct him. It’s not the first time someone made that assumption.

Prof Oak: Welcome to the world of Pokémon! Your adventure awaits! Me: WHAT?!

Then I’m in this weird, plain bedroom that’s kinda familiar. I go downstairs and run into a lady who calls herself my mom and gives me a “Pokégear.” I desperately want to leave this oddly designed house, so I do…and find myself in New Bark Town.

I’m dreaming…I have to be…

I find myself at Elm’s lab after some girl in pigtails flirts with me and I get kicked by my would-be rival.

Having played the game before (although it’s been years), I expect the usual speech. I just want my starter already; I’ll play along.

Prof Elm: So you’re Alex. This is not the usual journey. Me: Um… Prof Elm: Be careful when choosing. Me:…

He presents me with the three Pokéballs. Suddenly, one shakes and I hear a muffled voice say: “No! Don’t pick me! There isn’t anyone in here I swear!”

I pick that one. It’s a Chikorita.

Me: Hi, Chikorita. The Chikorita: *whines* That’s not my name! My name is Feliciano! Prof Elm: Everyone names their Pokémon here. Me: Ok. Hi, Feliciano. I’m Alex.

Feliciano looks really confused. Prof Elm informs me that I must be extra careful with the way I train…when a Pokémon is knocked out, they’re knocked out for good. That’s not how I remember it…

I go on the usual quest, excited because…come on, this is an awesome dream! I’m in the Pokémon world!

Feliciano is… weird. He keeps asking me where Ludwig and Loki (?) are, and when we’re going to stop to eat. The Pokéball says he’s Brave, but he doesn’t want to battle. After the first rival battle, he promptly cried, then took a nap afterward. At least he’s nice enough and has a nice accent.

I finally make it back to New Bark Town, and the police are in Elm’s lab. Here we go.

Cop: You didn’t happen to get his name? Feliciano: He’s so mean ;.; Me: Don’t worry Feliciano, he’s just kind of a tool. Cop: So Tool is his name. Me:…Yes.

Elm sends me off on this strange journey with confidence, as well as my “mom.”

That girl in pigtails…Lara I think, is at the next Route, waiting. Oh no…is this one of those tutorials?

***** A/N: This turned out longer than I thought. Not sure the diary style is successful here, but I’ll try. This is actually just Part 1 of this entry (that’s why Alex doesn’t sign at the end), because I want to keep the posts relatively short. I’ll upload at least the other half by tomorrow. Sorry this is going so slow; I’ve actually never written anything like this before (what have I gotten myself into?)

I also don’t make things completely perfect. The “Loki” instead of “Lovi” is intentional, for example…I want to make it believable, and when first meeting people, it can be confusing, and we make tiny mistakes like that.