Bring Me Down - Chita
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Bring Me Down - Chita
08/04/24
it’s the middle of the night. I’m lying in bed, and I started thinking about how I’m 23 and feel uncomfortable with my age and the life I’m living. I’m not doing anything productive, nothing with a clear purpose. I know comparing myself to others isn’t healthy, so I decided to compare myself to who I was ten years ago. I thought about my 13-year-old self back in 2014. what have I accomplished since then? I guess I’ve developed some skills in piano, english, singing, and poetry. I started listing them, one after another, and then I thought: why am I listing all of this? to reassure myself that I’ve done things in my life? what’s the point of feeling reassured? does that help me start doing something now? I realized it doesn’t. reflecting on what I’ve achieved doesn’t motivate me to be productive. maybe instead of finding comfort, I need to feel uneasy. to think about everything I haven’t achieved yet. but that doesn’t work either. neither thinking about what I’ve done nor what I haven’t done really pushes me to act.
then it hit me, everything I have or haven’t done is part of the past. maybe I should think about the future. everything still lies ahead. but honestly, that doesn’t help either, because I can’t trust what I don’t know, and uncertainty is the very nature of the future. I don’t know whether I’ll do things or not.
so I guess all I have left is to think about the present. although now I’m realizing I have to stop thinking altogether. just be in the present. that’s it. act.
Why is it wrong to want to die?
Why is it always attributed to a state of desperate crisis? Could it not be that someone simply wants to stop doing something that no longer interests them? Why is it wrong to take your own life exactly? We don't choose to be born, so shouldn't we have the right to choose whether to continue living or not?
When is it okay to want to die? Only when you have a terminal illness? Only when you are elderly? Is euthanasia only acceptable then, or not even then?
Why do adults tell other adults what to do? Why do they confuse and contradict them in such a logical desire? Why do they make me feel misunderstood?
Where is the power of decision over my own body and experience? Why do people romanticize life?
Why do they dramatize and demonize death when it's the most natural thing that exists? 03/23/25
My experience with OCD
I used to doubt whether someone secretly hated me, and because of that, I would get mad at that person for the possibility that they hated me and I wasn’t aware of it. The worst part is that I was conscious of how irrational it all was, but I couldn’t stop feeling anger and rejection toward the person.
I also used to force myself to think about horrible situations that I knew would make me uncomfortable. When my grandmother passed away, I forced myself to imagine her body being torn apart and all kinds of terrible things happening to her. It felt like torture. That was the most intense part, and the milder version was, for example, telling myself, 'Every time you go into the bathroom and see this object, you will think of X thing.' Then I started doing a ritual to undo/cancel actions that I felt I had to do.
As a child, I was quite a hoarder, I couldn’t even throw away a candy wrapper because I obsessed over the thought that I would 'never see it again' if I threw it away, or 'poor wrapper… it will be all alone.' Over time, I even started picking up papers I found on the street, pencils at school, a paperclip, anything I saw lying around. I felt like I just couldn’t leave it there. I felt sorry for it, and if I didn’t take it, I knew I’d think about it all day. That’s why I created my ritual of tapping my leg three times, it allowed me to cancel whatever my mind was telling me to do.
I also remember imagining that the paper on the street was happy being there and didn’t want to be picked up, and that sometimes calmed me down. Same thing when throwing away clothes, I had to convince myself that the item was happy to leave my house. If I felt like I was abandoning it, I simply couldn’t throw it away because I wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt. It was crazy. As a child, I felt deep distress when my parents changed the furniture or when I found out they had thrown something away. If something broke, I would even keep the pieces.
Something that may have triggered this was that my mom threw away everything. She did whatever she wanted with my stuff. I didn’t trust her, I would ask her to leave something where it was, and she wouldn’t. To this day, I don’t know why she does that, but if she sees a piece of paper or something she thinks is useless, she throws it away. She threw away things that were important to me, maybe notes that she didn’t even know the meaning of. The worst part is that she wouldn’t take responsibility for it, so I never knew for sure if she had thrown it away or if I just couldn’t find it.
I started checking the trash every night because I knew I would find my things there. And when I asked her why she had thrown something away, she would say she didn’t do it, never taking responsibility. It was so frustrating not being able to make her understand something as simple as 'don’t touch my stuff.' She still does it, though on a smaller scale.
Psychiatric medication helped me calm my anxiety, which in turn reduced my OCD. I started taking the risk of not performing the ritual and realized that nothing bad happened.
Founded by a distant Landgraab in the early 1900's as a summer destination for the fabulously wealthy, Greymont Bay's small
I'm in love with Greymont Bay! But I can't play in it if isn't populated :( and I'm so lazy to make a savefile myself, please someone tell me where to find one!
honestly me on new years eve
I don’t have schizophrenia, but…
there's this uncomfortable sensation I have when I close my eyes, usually to go to sleep, that makes me see something I was able to notice is the same thing I used to see when I was a kid, in a fever delirium. back then, I used to relate it to a demon that was looking straight at me and pointing at me, over and over again with its fingers, and that repetition would produce such a fear in me that I couldn't sleep. it was, and is, a sensation very hard for me to explain, but I guess it could be compared to a bad trip on some drug.
this stinging repetition (the demon's fingers pointing at me at that time) I feel it today as a beating mass in my brain. it beats so fast and makes such abrupt movements that it throws me off balance. it's similar to watching a 1-second video over and over again and feeling that discomfort, the noise, the sound repeating again and again and you just want it to stop.
after a few moments it stops, and nowadays I know everything's mental so, I'm not as afraid of this sensation as I was before. when I was a kid I really thought it was a demon. anyway I still wonder what this is and I still try to find the way to describe it.
I ask X (twitter) AI to make some drawings of what I see. I said: "a big, wide mass, beating fast". I think these are the best, but they're still not that accurate. I'll keep trying to figure out how to describe what I feel and see with words.
I think I'll never get this back
I miss the innocence of the child, the curiosity and the question without the answer, I miss not knowing the answer. today, I feel the answer disappoints; gives an end; turns off the magic.
I miss not knowing how big is this city, I miss not knowing in which neighborhood are located the places where I used to stroll to with my family. I miss not knowing where I am, not knowing who I am. I miss not understanding a lot of what I do nowadays. I miss being ignorant about what was coming and not caring about it.
that's what I miss the most, for me that was the most beautiful thing about living, what made me feel alive alongside music and art. and I think I'll never get that back.
08/30/24
hi
is anybody here?
if you're reading this you probably used to follow a cute blog called cutepalefeelings (lol), I used to post pictures of joanna kuchta, charlie barker and elizabeth bishop a lot (those were the it girls here back in 2014-2015), I really fucking miss those times! I still, obviously, listen to The Neighbourhood and Melanie Martinez, I think I'm stuck forever in here, so I decided I'll use this blog, now I'm 24 so I have a life! maybe I can post stuff about myself, but I can't help but fangirl, I will never stop fangirling. a devon carlson icon will always look better than one of my own, but hey, let's try to find myself pretty. I'm so stupid I deleted all my posts once and now I regret it. But who knows! maybe I'll find myself posting joanna kuchta pics again. tumblr feels like home. idk
hey stupid face reveal... and why not the iconic the nbhd tattoo. I'm so proud of having this one on my skin. I'll always love the nbhd. lol