diary (202605 - ?)

one more confession / discretion's not what i need to sell
(from 'masterpiece theatre iii' by marianas trench)

20260501, or 02; such is time.

a conversation i did not have:

"see, you're not that guy, but i can imagine a parallel universe where you are that guy. maybe you saw a cute fashion magazine, or you saw an episode of a cute animated show, or you were more immersed in kpop. like. instead of ---, kawaii was at the front of your mind. and adult-you would dress in pastels, be like a fashionable gay guy, but straight, but omg he's so cute. like the ladies who are obsessed with animal crossing? that kind of cute / soft / chill thing, you see what i'm saying?

"so you've got an obscene number of cute, fluffy stuffed animals. you're always wearing a sky blue vest over a white button-down, maybe tan pants or some shit...but your trademark colors are light blue and white, and they're in immaculately good condition, despite the obvious. and your hat is a light blue-green plaid affair; something cute that matches with your outfit. your outfits are super-coordinated; this kawaii you is really into fashion. and cute stuff. all i can see is you playing cute games, scrapbooking, playing cozy ttrpgs, and hosting cute tea parties. you bake, too; like the real-life equivalent of all of the adorable asmr baked goods. you still have a heart of gold and off-the-charts charisma.

"oh, and this kawaii!---- has a girlfriend. she's super into gothic lolita, and also does taxidermy. a lot of taxidermy. it's her job, but it's also her hobby; she taxidermies cute animals. she's really passionate about it and talks to anybody who listens. anywho, you share us the strangest photos of your joint tea-parties, where it's like. cute food, with skulls on the table. pictures of your friend group are like a j-fashion party. but the stuff with you and her is weird. there's something about the way she looks at you that doesn't seem right. you're obsessed with her, but sometimes she says stuff that gives the rest of us pause. we get the impression she would like to add you to her cute taxidermy collection; you get the impression that she's the best thing on this green-ish earth.

"so one day she sees a few of us talking, and she tells us to savor you while you last. weird. and then a different day, way in the future, she tells us that she's 'going to show him the time of his life tonight' and we 'will never see him again.' i look at the coworker i'm talking to---'you heard that, right? do you think she's really...?' 'eh? i tuned out after the first half of the sentence; i did not need that mental image.' 'yeah, but should we call the police?' 'and say what, we think our coworker's girlfriend is going to taxidermy him? i mean, what if he's into that shit? besides, all of this is hearsay...'

"next week, you're 'on vacation.' the following week, we receive an invitation to the weirdest funeral we will ever attend. yes, indeed, kawaii!---- is taxidermied by his girlfriend."

---- stares at me. he is at a loss for words. -- says: "ewwwwwwwwww." ---- opens his mouth and says: "wow, you really put a lot of thought into that one."

needless to say, it's for the best that i kept my mouth shut.

20260502, as written on 20260502!

my pillowcase is beginning to get worn out. one part of it---the part which my head tends to inhabit---is threadbare. i turn it over so i'm not using that side, yet it somehow keeps getting turned back to the threadbare side. do i use it that much? well, yes; i turn it perpendicular to the floor and lean against it. this is my beloved layer of padding between my back and the wall. truly cozy. there are two of the cheapest pillows from target inside it. one is from four years ago, and the other is from last year. the first is incredibly flat. the second appeared to be full, but flattened out within a week of purchase. this is why there are two of them inside the same pillowcase. i would like to replace the pillowcase. i'll buy a color that isn't gray, too.

my bed is made up of four boxes which have been taped together. these boxes used to contain papaya---when i saw them, i knew i had the answer to my problems. most of my furniture is made up of boxes from my workplace. i sat on a box before taking it home, and was pleased it did not seem to collapse. cardboard is sturdy. the two 'inside' boxes have smaller boxes inside them---i believe both of them were edamame boxes. on my first day using the bed, i'd noticed that the box i was sitting on---the one beside the 'top' one where my head lays---had an indent, likely due to my sitting, so i added the second box to prevent potential cavings-in. as i write this, i notice that the head box has begun to cave in too; thankfully, there was an extra box in my closet which i could shove under it.

due to the indent in the second box, there is nothing under my upper back when i lay down. this is unnerving---i should feel something, but the slight difference in height between the edges of the box (which i can feel) and the inside of the box (error, does not touch back) means there's a gap between my back and the box. however, i usually sleep curled up in a ball, so all this does is ruin my dreams of being able to sleep on my back.

i've covered the boxes with a queen-size maroon blanket which has been folded up. it drapes over the boxes, providing the illusion of an actual bed and not a collection of boxes. this also provides a slight cushion which makes the boxes more comfortable to be on. then there's my two blankets, and of course the pillow which prompted these ramblings. i am quite comfortable sitting and sleeping here. i spend all day 'in bed.' idly, i wonder---if i had a comfortable chair, would i be there instead? the answer is: potentially. i'd need an ottoman, though, since i alternate between having my legs criss-cross-applesauce and intertwined before me. honestly, a bed does provide the best real-estate for a variety of sitting positions. i can also lay on my stomach and prop myself up with my arms---you can't do that in a chair! sometimes i have one my legs folded in while the other points out; my computer will sit in the free space beside the leg, and the slight fold forward from my back stretches part of my leg. indeed, the bed provides me with the much-loved ability to comfortably stretch while doing something else. you can't do that in a chair!

---

changed the stylesheet again...okay, all i updated was the background image and the font. according to wordcounter.net, this page has 51,223 words. the file is slow to appear in my browser. i split the page at may. the downstairs guy is being annoying, even though i'm wearing earplugs, so i'm blasting brown noise from my phone again. i am surprised by how quiet it genuinely is---if i leave the room, i can't hear it; from the other side of the room, i'd never guess my phone's volume was turned up all the way. it'd be different if what i was playing wasn't noise.

i'm contemplating places to go tomorrow. i'm not going to try to buy lunch; i'll remember to eat a proper breakfast. so much shopping. my embroidery mis-adventures leave me with the desire to try to embroider something on my own clothing, or on a bag, or...well, something. could be fun. i'm becoming more comfortable, even though i'm also embarrassed by how little i've achieved with my time. i like working with my hands. i'm getting a hang of it. will this be something i continue with? rather, do i want a hobby to continue with?

i've made countless plans to change my life. i open canva and shudder at a slideshow of goals and plans to achieve them. all of this is quickly abandoned. "the only constant is change"---yes, that's my life philosophy. i am an ever-shifting mass. ideas pass through me; possibilities are all that remain. i am in a constant state of flux. i grasp new ideas as easily as i forget them. rather, my interests are constantly evolving, as discursive as my thoughts. we wonder and wander and rebound from reality. here is a world of my own, i say, with a structure only i know.

see, i've been criticized for my lack of serious nature, for my lack of coherent interests, and for my lack of consistent personality. also, for the way i jump between topics without an apparent rhyme or reason (though ask me why i do a thing and you'll learn there is a method to my madness).

i am always reinventing myself. is this because i'm young? or is this me being me? only time will tell. people seem to take my constant state of change as evidence of my femininity; she isn't serious about anything, she doesn't care about her life, her actions make no sense, she isn't putting in effort, she's never genuinely tried to do something. i enjoy my explorations. why not? i try things and develop opinions on them. i tried making tea blends. i learned: these look like potions, tea is a craft which i can engage in, black pepper is interesting, star anise is strong (i smell it every time i walk by the open bag), and ground cardamom is $6 at whole foods. i've learned i'm not interested in shadow puppets, but i still think they look cool. i've learned drawing birds is fun, and i could see myself making a habit of it. i learned that drawing doesn't need to be complicated, and it is something i can do without being as truly horrible as i thought i was. i can recreate images in simple detail---nothing great, but my attempts resemble what i'm trying to draw, and that matters! what else have i tried lately...

my only genuine worry is about how i have nothing to show for my dabbles. i can't say "i spent five years studying this" or some shit. i'd like to have that sort of thing to show for it---commitment, i think that's what i'm searching for. instead...instead i what? i sit here and daydream about how else could i transform my life?

i hope i find some clothing i could use for mori kei. i'm a bit scared of buying more clothes, and trying to find used clothes from the right places, and new stores in general. i see a future where i learn to sew, and then i back down into my current life, wher ei do not k sew and have no interest to.

20260503

nearly done with 'doing our own thing.' i'm sick of it. the author isn't convinced by his own argument---he has the shape of an argument (language has changed, probably due to our attitude toward our history / government, and the 60s were the turning point). he's failed to make an argument about 'why we should, like, care,' which was the subtitle that sold me on the book. ARGH.

went into boston today. i used to be afraid of writing down my location, but something about going to boston makes me less afraid of saying that's where i was today. of the---what, thousands?---non-bostonians who were in boston today, which one was me? would you know me if you saw me? i can think of precisely one ex-neocities user who would have a chance of having recognized my face, except there is no fathomable reason for him to be in the US, much less boston...my point being that going into the real world leaves me unafraid of doxxing myself.

the public garden was the highlight of the trip. i captured numerous photos of ducks, pigeons, and geese. mallard ducks are among the prettiest wildlife i've seen. the vibrant dark-green heads truly capture my eye. so do their black, beady eyes. and their bright orange-pink feet; that brilliant color, and its spindliness, seems so anachronistic to their white/gray/black/brown bodies. i glimpsed one with its fluffy white ass in the air, and was too busy chuckling to take a picture of it. i also watched another one pruning its feathers; i managed to capture a photo where its feathers were all spiky and fluffed out in a complete state of disarray while it stared at me.

i had to keep telling myself not to try to touch the birds. i want to pet them. i want to hold them. i want them to eat out of my hand. i do not want to catch a disease from them. i do not want them to hurt me. i think i want a pet duck, if such a thing is possible. a backyard with a pond and some ducks to inhabit it. how beautiful.

in opposition to the peaceful, relaxed ducks was a quartet of agitated geese. these four failed to glide through the water, as many of the other geese were, and opted to stretch out their necks and hit each other while honking at each other. they spread their wings and rose slightly, as if attempting to evict a member from their group. is that how geese work? my observations gave me the impression that two geese were fighting two other geese. this was amusing. the volume of their honks impressed me; i'm in awe of my fellow pedestrians' ability to ignore them. perhaps the tulips which so many were taking pictures of / with were just that captivating. while the colorful array of flora were pretty, i felt no such kinship with them. why look at flowers when you can look at birds?!

while most of the pigeons i saw were the same beautiful birds as always, there was one anomaly: a white pigeon with grey-speckled wings. was it even a pigeon? the train station was inhabited by a sea of pigeons; this white-gray bird waddled alongside them for a few seconds before it disappeared into the aether. (it looked like this, though i don't recall seeing furred feet). unfortunately, i failed to capture a photo of this bird. (i asked google gemini if this was a pigeon; it said it probably was, and pointed me to this lovely page of pigeons)

birds aside, did i get much out of this, by what measure, and do i care? i visited three or four anime-related stores on newbury street. all of them were small, cryptic affairs whose items could only be purchased for a steep price. i was hoping to obtain a poster of a show i liked---preferably samurai champloo or madoka magica---but failed to. the one place which did have posters was limited to something called "re:zero," some wanted posters (the reference is on the tip of my tongue...), and two posters which might as well have been pinups. i was amused by the collection of books at newbury comics---they had some standard penguin classic books, a few self-help books, and...what else? i'm blanking. that being said, their stuffed animals were genuinely tempting. i contemplated carrying a piranha plant around all day before deciding against checking the price. maybe in another life.

muji was pleasant. the immediate wall of notebooks and stationary appealed to my sensitivities. the two notebooks i purchased---one pocket-sized, one the size of a small planner---are simple and pleasing to the eye. they are exactly the kind of no-frills basic-bitch notebooks which i wanted. i nearly bought a clearance pillowcase---so soft, so high quality---before deciding i'd rather patch up or embroider the threadbare section of my pillowcase than spend $11 on a nice pillowcase. i tried to eye the clothing, but the styles i'm looking for are frivolous and the exact opposite of their kind of affair. i was surprised by the variety of storebrand snacks they offered. baumkuchen, which i'd learned of from "the food diary of miss maid" (i think that's what it was called; it came out this season and is forgettable), caught my eye. they had some instant latte/tea mixes, which i will buy in the future.

the sheer volume of stores catering to the running population explained the volume of runners; with this many places selling 'running gear,' one has no choice but to become a buyer of this gear, and perhaps even a user of it. the annual marathon might have something to do with it too...i did pass by a memorial for the marathon bombing. now that brings back memories---the sudden fear, one minute the marathon's playing on the tv, background noise for the running-obsessed mother, and the next the room is silent. there was a bomb. i don't remember that part well. the more vivid part of my memory is that a classmate cancelled her birthday party, and that there was an aura of fear in the air. i was too young to really understand why---in my child brain, a bombing in a city a few dozen miles a way shouldn't have anything to do with our small town. i have no memory of hearing news about the following manhunt, though scrolling through the wikipedia page does leave a chill. right. that...happened.

the two bookstores i visited were sorry, crowded affairs that did not facilitate the contemplating of purchasing books. beacon street books was primarily fiction; also it is tiny. trident had a noticable selection of nonfiction, but the place was too crowded for me to look properly. they also had a lot of zines from microcosm publishing...interesting.

my final requisite stop was the garment district. originally, i'd hoped to attack all of the used clothing stores to begin to build a mori kei wardrobe. my fatigue and lack of advance planning meant i only visited one store, but it ended up being a worthwhile place which i would happily revisit. they sold a large selection of clothes which was carefully organized by style; the racks of 60s/70s/80s-style clothing were close enough to what i was looking for. i obtained a lovely dark-blue calf-length skirt which is covered in patterns of blue, gold, and purple. i've never had much affection for my clothing---clothes will be clothes---but i've never felt as at home in a piece of clothing as i did when i put on that skirt. i love it. i am glad i purchased it. i will re-explore their selection in the future, when my wallet more inclined to support clothing acquisition.

is that all there is to say? when i was reached the train station, the amtrak was boarding, and i was amused by how many times the announcer reminded people that it was boarding. he was very adamant that people make sure they have all of their belongings on them and do not miss their train, and to remind people that only ticketed passengers will be allowed to board. ofc this makes sense, but the contrast between it and the typical announcement of which train to board five minutes before the train leaves is amusing. the DESTINATION line is now boarding on track X is accompanied by a flurry of movement; everybody has been staring at the screen and now we're running towards the right terminal.

i visited somewhere and thought about how i broke off from my family a year ago. i thought of my sister and i getting into a shouting match, with her being controlling and guilt-tripping and saying she was only here because she felt bad for me; her saying something about how "she'd take me home now" (where?) and me saying i wasn't going with her. my home is not her home. hell, i had a place to live which didn't feel like a home, but it was more homely than her idea of home. i thought about this as i wandered through that place where we yelled at each other---how could i not? that was the nail in the coffin. she was only there out of pity. the entire day had been off-kilter; her rambling about herself, me trying to make conversation, her ignoring me and leaving me feeling like a dog on a leash. i hated that feeling. i'm not surprised i left.

i wonder what they think of me, if at all. do my siblings remember me? do they wonder what's going on in my life? they didn't contact me after i moved out, and they tended to ignore my attempts to contact them. funny how you can live with someone for eighteen years and then forget they exist. --- should be heading off to college this fall; is she? what's --- doing, and is --- still working at that camp? who is doing what? did my mother decide to go back and study teaching, is she employed now; do her and my father argue less or more? have they divorced? does anybody miss me?

there's the occasional text from either parent, which i ignore, which each sign off as "love, mom/dad." the passive-aggressive tone might not be evident without context. still, this reads as a weapon---we love you (what does that word mean to them), so you should do as we say. i will not do as they say. that's why i'm here and they're not a part of my life. they spent eighteen years making it clear that i am not a part of their family. they made it clear that they need me to do as they say, that i need to make them happy, and that they will never be happy. miserable people breed miserable people.

i think this bothers me. i am lonely. there, i said it. i check my phone and hope someone texted---who would? i check my email, then my other email, then my other email. my inboxes are devoid of even newsletters. i check websites and hope for comments, or likes, or signs of life; their wastelands mock me. in my desperation, i contemplate internet relationships, and yearn to text ----, though what for? that bridge, too, is burned. i don't know how to be a friend. i feel as if i'm doing something wrong, and i'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. i remember how anxious his lack of expectations made me---when i don't have to prove i'm worthy of someone else's attention, how am i supposed to behave? i remember one phone call, where my anxious brain was spiralling and thinking about how you had to be on your way to asking me to send you inappropriate content of myself. you'd given zero indication of that, by the way; this was me thinking of previous interactions with someone else and being stressed by how you weren't acting like him. where's the "send tits or we're done," where's the dread as i force myself to comply with sickening requests, where's the anxiety and sadness and misery, when am i going to be left with the impression you've been jerking off to our conversation, when are you going to ask me to----?

ofc, you did none of that, because you're not a creepy 30y/o who expects a random internet girl to satisfy his porn addiction. we just talked like normal people, or maybe what we thought normal people talked like, and then i went and screwed things up (like i always do). you were so non-demanding; if a conversation doesn't depend on me contorting myself into something i'm not, then who am i supposed to contort myself into? what am i supposed to do? i need the drama, i need the theatrics, i need the "we're never speaking again" followed by the exact opposite, i need someone i want to impress, and that takes having someone who expects me to impress them, and that impressing must be done by molding myself into the person they want. how could i impress anyone by being myself?

i shouldn't be inflicting myself onto others, i think/write/believe.

if i contacted you, what would you do?

---

i want to go out again. leaving the house was nice. wandering around a large city---so many sights and sounds---was the breath of fresh air i needed. it wasn't enough. it was, and it wasn't, and i feel the urge to start walking, even though it's 2am, past the turn of the day. the air is cold; the chill in my room causes me to shiver. i think about going to target, or downtown, or---well, i don't know where, but i want to go out and do something. this room has suffocated me. when i leave it, i can pretend to be free. in here, the only monster is me, and god am i my demon.

you need to grow up. you need to move on. you need to---what? idly, i consider enrolling in community college and earning an associate's in english lit. it's an option. i'll need to make sure all of my classes are online. having credentials to my name would be nice. right now, all i have is a high school diploma, and i doubt that's worth much.

a memory: english class at college 2, some writing thing; creating resumes, and the professor being adamant about us needing to list our high school diploma under education. i thought that listing the degree / college / expected DATE was enough of a credential; my classmates took the professor's side and agreed that we must prove we graduated high school, or else nobody would hire us. it makes the resume look better, or it's something we've actually earned and not just something we're working on. oh how the tables have turned: if i were to update my resume, i'd delete the college, and regal the paper with my high school diploma. oh, to have fallen so far---and to have so little to show for my time. i must hold on. i must hold out. i believe: i must stay in one place for long enough to make up for my lack of education. funny how an abandoned education is tantamount to none at all; either you crossed the finish line or you didn't. how close you were doesn't matter.

my eyes grow weary.