#introsp

[hellwitness]

A beautiful, empty seed

When i die i will embelish and nourish the ground of my grave with this colorful clothes, perfect skin and shiny hair. I've been working hard to accomplish that. Prepare the ground to plant the spoiled seed.

I have nothing less to add then beautiful agony.

I wonder what type of weeds will grow out of it.

[mardimcfli]

I've begun the habit of after waking up immediately painting my dreams. I think it's good to try and add some reasoning behind their very existence. Oh well who am I to say I'm a random guy in Ok.

[cisfor]

Post-therapy thoughts

Thanks to my fourth $160 session, I am currently writing this on the Tumblr text page rather than a separate document (take that perfectionistic tendencies!). I know of many that are passionately opposed to therapy and therapists in general, and though agreeably overpriced, I would argue anyone with fervent daddy issues and recurring abandonment schemers to duly reconsider. I have, obviously. Today, my therapist read my results from a cognitive therapy cum maladaptive behaviors test aka what went wrong with me as a child that has made me the way I am aka was I dropped as a baby test. The results were mostly unsurprising, you know “recognition-seeking,” “unrelenting standards,” “insufficient self-control,” yadayadayada. There was, however, something that scored pretty high on the list that surprised both me and her - entitlement.

Am I entitled? Well, I mean, I know that I am privileged. I have food on my table every night. I go to an international school. I scored high on the Buzzfeed quiz. But, do I actually act entitled? I think it took me by surprise when she said that and for some reason I felt uncomfortably ashamed and couldn’t stop shifting in my seat. What does that even mean, to be entitled? Perhaps that explains why sometimes I can be manipulative and unhappy and discontent. Perhaps that also explains why I choose to be a victim in situations which don’t even directly affect me. This hits so close to home. This is shameful. Hear that, internet? Take note, I’m telling you something embarrassing. I am an entitled child who cannot even fully grasp what that means. Post-therapy thoughts are often fluttered and unsettling and confusing, and maybe that’s how the institution cashes in on every follow-up session? But I am on a journey to be more self-conscious of this entitlement and how this positively and (capslock) negatively impacts my life. 

Sorry bank account

[emptii]

Uhvatila me zelja za Božićem, čajem, kuhanim vinom i šetanjem snježnim Ribnjakom. I cimetom, dada, cimetom :)

Uskoro, nadajmo se.