FUNNY THING

It's really funny that you wonder, why we feel this way now. You do stupid things, and can't decide what we can and cannot watch. Do stupid things that you know will hurt us, do stupid things, like not getting your meds. and NOW you wonder, why are you feeling this way?

You do things for people, when they hurt us. Smile at someone who bullies you. AND you wonder why you feel this way?

How stupid can one be?

31 March 2023, Journal

 Hm. I am a little bit surprise that I didn't write anything during March. I guess I have been a little more busy with work recently, and I did pick up 1 or 2 new things that interests me.

Back to my favourite hobbies of crafting and diy stuff. I mean, I bought a lot of stuff, and don't have a lot of time to do all of them yet. I did start on Diamond painting and that has been absolutely horrifying and satisfying.

I just hope I don't get super obsessed over it like i sometimes does, and over do it. It's a bummer that I can't do it for too long hours because, hunching over the painting to drill in the diamond really caused a lot of discomfort on my neck. -insert eye roll-

Dr Geo mentioned something about level of trust. He thinks that we have been circling, and he often thinks that we talk a lot about non therapeutic staff. but for me, all the things that he think wasn't, doesn't seem that way for me.

I really don't feel that I don't tell them to him because I don't trust him. Sometimes I don't understand my choice of words.

I just sometimes feel that I am literally mute about it. Physically unable to open my mouth to talk about the incident. I did mentioned that I really hated the memory of it. It annoys us that we have to talk about it.

Doesn't he know? Maybe he forgot again. Can't even play a game of tic tac toe with us. He focus more on himself and therapy more then us.

Why did he said that he felt pressured to cross boundary? He just wants to make her feel bad, and now she won't even ask him anymore, because she only think of others, never us.

There are often very conflicting thoughts and emotions, it is easy to express them when I am writing, but yes, it does get somewhat confusing and uncomfortable to read about them later on, and feel like who wrote this? -insert many eye rolls-

Of course I know who wrote it. (actually I don't) well let's pretend we know, so that we don't feel so stupid.

Work is slow today, I guess that's why I am writing now. I think that, I could actually enjoy my weekend now. There isn't this insanity that eats me up during weekend like last time. I would very much like to blame it on setraline. I feel a little bit like my old self.

My old self means, getting by, passive suicide ideation, and not fully happy. I thought I could stop therapy since I am feeling better now and not actively suicidal anymore.

It makes me really uncomfortable to feel that things are better now because, well things with my mom is quite alright now. She is really spending time to make lunch for me to bring to work. Even boil herbal soup for me, well of course I had to give her extra money for that. Honestly, if not me, who else? 

She recently said that the sister doesn't even bother to call her or visit her. I guess she feels sad and hurt that her older daughter don't seem to care about her. we obviously know why.

Given a chance, we would probably do the same. The saddest thing is that, she doesn't even know why. 

What else could we do? I still try, to do things, for her. I think that, she is old, and unwell. I hope that she feels better if I keep trying to do better. This is when the anger part screams at the back of my mind.

Yelling and raging to stop trying to please her. but again, if not us, then who else? Anger has a lot of words to say, but we have more control now. We don't cut ourselves anymore, and don't try to think of ways to die. Even though, I do agree sometimes, but we don't act on them.

I really want her to feel better, she is our mother.

It feels like anger is behind the prison bars, unable to get out. Maybe these anger and rage aren't necessary. We really do feel bad for anger too. 

It's like I need everything to seem okay, so that I don't drown in my own pain again.

I feel bad for Dr Geo, because I'm not sure if I had gotten worse. Let's think in a more positive way. It's progression because we are not actively suicidal anymore right?

AGONY

 Agony is someone that we forgot existed. Agony feels pain that can't be describe, Agony tears silently even when his head is screaming in pain, like it was going to explode.

Agony holds his head painfully, trying to gasp for air. The agony is not knowing why we are feeling so much pain. We really didn't understand.

The head throbs in pain, we are often shamed and made to feel terror. Still we pretend, like it was not her.

No one's mother would do that. Mother were suppose to love their child and take care of them. Treat them gently and lovingly.

Agony knows real pain, and we buried him. So that we can continue to pretend that everything is okay.

Agony is too emotional, who gasp for air and cry uncontrollably. These types of behaviour should be hidden. 

It's not that we want to bury him, we tried to comfort him, but his pain grew and it was too painful for all of us. So we freeze and slowly kept him silent. We really don't know how to help you or comfort you.

We are really sorry.

18 Feb 2023

 I seemed to write lesser now a days. At least not as often as when Michael started me on this journal thing.

It's hard to describe this feeling, of wanting to zone away and just stare into spaces when a particular music syncs with me.

Of course I constantly feel confused, especially Anger's post is somewhat unpleasant to read. It does seems to make sense though, to write as though they are not me.

A discarded memory came back to me, and I really hate it ever since. Still, there is Still nothing that I can do because they are past. It's painful to not know or understand/comprehend the extend of it.

It makes us mad to think that we need to pretend that it doesn't matter, that it was okay. What happened to us wasn't what people would perceived it as. It makes us mad, that we need to pretend that it wasn't.

Maybe we do excergerate. Like the adult me knows the truth, but I'm stuck with feeling confused if what happened was really not okay. We really need someone to tell us that it was not okay, and to acknowledge our pain.

Maybe we feel too much, and it hurts. So we do what we usually do, and pretend that evey thing is okay, nothing bad happened. We over think, and over react, and we are just being sensitive.

MAGICAL PLACE

 Melody likes to daydream, and imagine that she wasn't in this world. She stares into the sky and thinks she sees a flying horse. She looks for magic places to hide and pretend that she is in them. Everything is peaceful and safe in a magical place.

She stares at the tree, that very same tree everyday like it's an old friend. There was just something special about the tree that stood taller then every other trees around it.

Classes and teachers fade away as she stares into the clouds and imagine what they looked like. 

Anything is better than the boring classes and what people perceived as home.

LIFE

 Life is actually not that bad. If only she could stop being such a fucking idiot.

We would love to enjoy live, but she drives us crazy. it makes us mad!

Get away, get out. and stop being so fucking pathetic.

It makes us mad that YOU are hurting us, that YOU are letting people hurt us.

If we are going to be so pathetic, then JUST DIE.

IT DOESN'T MATTER ANYMORE

I don't think we should care anymore, about how people would think of us, especially, we shouldn't care what our therapist thinks of us if we continue writing this way. We should do what feels right for us.

It's just easier, to tap in here, while listening to soft melodies with rain drizzling around us. Everything feels so soft and mellow, like nothing else exists.

It makes us feel melodramatic like we are in a sort of movie that has a sad child playing it.

It rather suits us, because our life has been a series of plays. Here we write our script, of what happened. Like it's not real.

The fragmented memories were thrown away, tiny pieces of them, flung out of our brain. 

We didn't need them.

I, didn't know them.

As pieces of them comes back to me, I want to just run away and flung them away again.

I, didn't want them.

The movie is about a sad story, of a girl who wasn't love. Her mother is sick, her sister is a bully and her father is absent. Her therapist said that she was unlovable. He didn't said that, he asked and so maybe it is.

She grew up without knowing a lot of things and she was never part of this world.

In the end, it's a relief for her to finally go away to somewhere else. Surely anywhere else would be better. At the very least, she had felt what it was like to feel cared for just before she dies. It felt real, her therapist cared for her. 

It really matters to her, to feel real warmth and care from someone.

This time she learned that, maybe it was alright to feel care from someone.