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I haven't used weed in a few days. It was making me emotionally unstable and it was also causing dissociation as well as memory problems, so as such I shouldn't do it again for a while. I don't mind being crazy at all, so long as it is controlled, but most of this crap is purely negative, so as such I need to take a break.

I'm still a little spaced out. I thought that I was getting better, but to be fair, I stayed up late last night in order to hang out with a neighbor out of politeness, so as such that might have something to do with it. I actually got up a little bit before one in the afternoon, which is pretty much unheard of for me to do. It was odd, because it felt like I had been up all day when in reality I have only been up for around eight hours.

Hanging out with my neighbor was...interesting. He's a nice guy, but when I tried to get them to listen to vaporwave, by the second song he said that he didn't like it. He said that it was "too sad". As a result, he showed me videos of punk rock; the music videos were awesome, but I couldn't listen to the lyrics (I have a problem with that) and all of the songs essentially sounded the same. I don't think that it sucks; it just isn't my thing. He told me that he likes it because it makes him happy, and it is like saying "Fuck you" to the world, which it sort of is. His friend showed me videos of Justin Bieber unironically, saying that he was awesome. I have to admit that Justin Bieber is a decent vocalist, but I don't listen to that kind of pop music. Overall, they said that my interests were strange, but they didn't dislike me. Mostly because I know how to pretend to be interested in something when in general I don't want to bother with it. But I suppose that it was good to see that side of life.

I talked to one of my friends from MTSU last week. I found out that he had a heart attack from drinking too much. That kind of shook me up. He is sober now, but he says that he has to learn how to walk again, and he pisses through a catheter. It was odd to find this all out because almost exactly a year ago, I found out that one of my other friends died in a car accident in the middle of 2014. And now this. I really hope that he will be okay; I tried calling him, but he didn't pick up and his inbox was full.

Currently I'm trying to form my own theory of consciousness. I think that I will be able to do it, at least partially. I'm reading some books to help me with my research. Most of my theory was formed from becoming self-aware of the mental changes in my mind while high on weed.

It is just so odd how people think that art imitates life, and vice versa. So many people who think that the music videos of partying and scantly clad women is real life, and as such they live it. I'm attracted to the things that don't usually happen in life, so as such I don't know what is going on when it comes to what others like/want/imitate through pop culture.

I have the feeling that some odd things are going to happen soon. Not bad things, but strange things nonetheless. Yesterday morning, there was hardly anyone on campus; that was bizarre to see. Today was fine, but I have no idea what happened. And someone pointed this out to me, too; it wasn't just a paranoid thought. I just get the feeling that 2016 is going to be a strange year.
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2016 has been...somewhat odd, to say the least. I don't think that it is going to be a bad year (at all, actually), but when I consulted the I Ching about what the year was going to be like, it said that I was about to be blindsided by something. So I should be careful about that.

But yeah, 2015 really sucked, looking back on it. I didn't even like most of the Vaporwave music that came out.

In any case, I have only read one book this month so far. I really should read more, but I just don't have the drive anymore. You can only do the same thing for so long; to be honest, it has gotten to the point where everything I read is something that seems like I've already read it before. It is a little nuts. I still want to write, though, but even so I'm a bit cautious about what to write and how to write it. I know that I can write, and that is the hardest obstacle to overcome I believe, but to be honest, I'm starting to think that I'm sort of full of shit. Not completely, but perhaps I'm not as smart or as original as I thought that I was. But whatever; if I'm not now, I might be later, for those two traits are ones that have to be gained and not given. But knowing that I'm not reading any more for now, I can't help but to feel that my mind is rather stagnant.

I was using weed edibles for about a week, and ate the last one last night. I thought that Sativa was making me crazy, and to be fair I did go a little nuts. I calmed down, though, and last night was perfectly fine, so as such I think that it is okay now to use them sparingly. They are fun, but probably aren't good for me in the long run. Nonetheless, I was given many insights into the human mind while being high. The odd thing is that normally I talk to myself a lot, but when I was high, I barely said a word for hours. When I told this to my brother, he couldn't help but to laugh.

Not much else is going on, unfortunately, except for the fact that I finally got internet at my apartment and I've been playing Shining Force for the Genesis. I'm not spending a lot of money, which is good, and I'm also trying to get my bearings for this year. I should be fine for a while, though.
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Here is the 2015 Monthly Synopsis. I've been doing this for ten years, although on this account you can only find them going back to 2012. 2015 was a weird year; it wasn't particularly bad, but it definitely wasn't that great, either. A lot of fucking drama.

January: I try to write an autobiography, but fail because it was just too painful. I find out that one of my friends from MTSU had been dead from a car accident for several months, and I sort of feel like a douche, although it was pretty surreal. I try to take Naltrexone, but quit after the second day because I feel that it was giving me a heart attack. Near the end of the month, I get the flu, which was the first time I ever did. It was very miserable and during one night I had such a horrible headache, I felt that I was going to get a stroke.

February: I decide to take a short break from writing, and I start doing DXM every other day, which was fun and educational at the time (I still don't have any regrets about it). However, I overhear my then-roommate talking smack about me in his room later in the month, and it completely changed the living situation. I was smart enough to realize that I was probably better off on my own by that point, but still too sheltered to realize that I was about to get kicked out.

March: One of my friends has her husband die on her, and the other friend had jury duty. I stop doing DXM every other day, and I confront my then-roommate about what I overheard. That was brave of me, but looking back that was probably what prompted him to kick me out so soon, although it is quite possible he would have done it anyway.

April: I start reading more and cooking more in the beginning, but then not only do our neighbors downstairs get their apartment ransacked, but my then-roommate decides to kick me out so he can live with his friend. I understandably slowly start getting very mad, trying to be quiet and polite in public but am fuming in private. Try to find other places to live, but have very little luck; this was the first time I was stressed since my mother was in hospice. I was able to write a 9,000 word document that someone sent an e-mail to me about, though.

May: I get some reflection of my past selves due to May being the anniversary months of me leaving MTSU as well as the beginning of my mother's hospice. I have bad allergies that make my body and brain very odd, and I get privately upset about my father due to not only him forgetting about my mother, but also for him making an extremely dumb, callous comment. I honestly feel like my life is at a breaking point due to the stress and the threat of homelessness, most or all of which could have been avoided if I didn't live with a douchebag who took his insecurities out on me. As it turns out, my then-roommate's plan to live with his friend didn't work out, so his clever plan justifiably blew up in his face. I start writing poems to distract myself, or at least I said that I did back then.

June: Find the place that I live in now, and move into the place near the end of the month. Nonetheless, I'm still pissed off and worked up for a while. Finish writing a book of poetry, although I don't really remember doing that. When my then-roommate confronts me about expenses that I couldn't afford, I actually scream at him out of pent-up anger; I felt bad about it, but at least I finally had some balls. It gets worked out, though, and I left the apartment uneventfully; my friend helped me move with his truck. I feel optimistic about the place because I had the belief that this place could give me the ability to make better choices for myself, and that actually turns out to be true.

July: I love the place that I moved to, and the lack of constant internet access actually makes me happier (it still does, for the most part). I met my brother's then-girlfriend, and she seemed okay at the time, despite later turning out to have a lot of problems. But I never saw that happen personally, so that is neither here nor there. I find out that my ex-roommate was stranded at the old place without roommates for a while when I paid him the money that I owed, thus he had to pay a lot more money due to his failed plan. I wasn't happy about that, but he did deserve it. I found out that my father put his girlfriend's dog to sleep, and that made me sad despite not being close to it (it wasn't a stupid dog, just very ugly).

August: My father tells me that they plan on going on a sailing trip down the coast of Mexico, which I think was very foolish, especially when they tell me that they don't care if they die on the trip. When I told my sister about the first part in a worried voice, she at first didn't get why I was upset, but when I added the second part, she flipped out and said that our father was saying stuff like that when he wanted to die. They haven't gone on it yet, but they are still preparing, and I can't stop them. I start to drink only every other day, which I still do and I have since then sharply reduced my alcohol intake. I also get into Existentialism, which I believe to be an interesting school of philosophy.

September: Not a lot happened. A guy at my apartment complex disappeared, and there was a fuckload of empty tallboys of malt liquor in his apartment that had to be removed. It made me think about my potential future.

October: My father tells me in a roundabout way during dinner in front of his girlfriend that they are going to get married. This makes me privately very upset, because he promised my mother on her deathbed that he would never do that. My hair falls out and I feel like I am dying, even though I'm not. I think about both moving away to different town just to get away from this crap, and to get a job at Orange Julius so that I can save up for a move. I do try the latter, but I get denied. I start to realize that I really don't fit into where I live anymore.

November: I turn 32, and the week that my birthday fell on was very slow and odd. It made me think about my life too much. I had dinner with my father and his girlfriend, and while it was a good dinner, it was odd to be around them. It made me start to seriously consider that most people just have relatively shallow relationships with others, and can replace just about anyone in their lives.

December: I start to get worked up and manic in the beginning of the month; for a while, my life felt magical again. But eventually, it calmed down, and now I'm back to my basic, depressed self. My brother came over for Christmas, and that was great. He broke up with his girlfriend, and I find out many things, one of which being that his life was threatened once. He now understands to never get involved with any woman with kids again, or at least he seems like it. I offer for him to move in with me, which he might do, but he will probably find another place to live. In any case, I start wondering about the fallacy of love, the fact that being alone is what is best for me, and how my friends will get fewer and fewer over time. Probably the same old shit.

Wow, that was actually a really hard year. I'm surprised that I ended up doing so well. I had to put up with a lot of fucking shit.
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I'm fine now, for the most part. The mania wore off about a week after I last posted, although it still shows up occasionally.

Christmas was uneventful. Nothing bad happened, and my brother came over. It was kind of nice, actually. Me and my brother went to a bar the night before he left (he was here on Christmas Day and the day after), and we just got mellow and started talking stuff. He broke up with his girlfriend and is going to move away from her soon, which is a good thing because while I liked her when I saw her, she is apparently disturbed and has two kids. My brother is now able to see how it was a dumb thing to get into, and how others told him that as he was doing it, but at the time he was blindsided by "love". Well, I won't get into that whole topic; I have already said my piece about it before.

I actually got a lot of stuff. I didn't ask for anything, but I still am grateful for it. I got my brother, my father and his girlfriend some Moonpies because I can't really afford anything else.

I will likely get the internet at my apartment very soon. It is about time that I do. I had a nice break from it, and now I think that I can handle myself pretty well.

When my brother told me about the break-up weeks ago, I offered for him to live with me for a while. He said that he might take up the offer, but I think that he will move somewhere else (Portland or Everett is my best bet). It will still be okay if he does, but I think that I mostly offered because I felt lonely at the time, which is a weakness. I was willing to compromise my personal security and space just to not feel alone, and while it would be worthwhile to sacrifice that for my brother, otherwise that would just make me pathetic. I now realize that I am better off alone, for I do not risk anything or compromise anything when I am. I prefer being alone, anyway; it was odd for me to be lonely like that. It does happen, but it has been a while, and it is often very fleeting. I think that most of the reason why I am alone is that I cannot relate to others, do not emotionally depend on others (well, at least the vast majority), and cannot really make any deep connection. I wish that I could, but I can't. What I have noticed is that people who are social are generally shallow people who live on the surface of life and pay attention to pop culture and whatnot; I want nothing to do with that. I don't even think that I'm better than other people; they have their flaws, and I have mine. And I am quite flawed, otherwise I wouldn't want to be alone in the first place.

I kind of realized roughly two weeks ago that all of the friends that I could ever make, I have already made, and they will get fewer and fewer. One of my friends confirmed this when I told her; she is about twenty years older than me. I don't want to get to know anyone around me or be friendly with anyone I haven't already been, unless if I am drunk. I don't quite know why, I guess that I'm just becoming more jaded, more distant, and just more content with myself. Most people seem to have flaws and problems that I don't want to deal with, not to say that I don't have any. I don't want to become a jerk, but I feel like it will be soon when I'm no longer so openly nice anymore. Part of this whole thing might be that I'm around people who are a lot younger than me, and I don't have a lot in common with those people.

I've been having messed up dreams recently that have been very vivid. Last night I dreamed of me watching an odd movie and groping younger women while I pretended to be asleep. Kind of creepy, but at least it reassures me that I'm not gay.
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About a week ago, I went a little nuts. I don't know why. Obviously, I didn't go to psych ward or anything, but it did catch me way off guard. I think that it happened because I was starting to lack empathy for everyone, and the God inside of me wanted to have me humbled. It was odd, too, because I was beginning to question whether or not I really was disabled; now I know that I certainly am.

I just ramble on and my speech is a bit disjointed (my writing, not so much, but it requires a lot of concentration and focus in order to write in an intelligent manner). My creativity is higher and I feel like a genius, but I believe that this may just either be a sense of grandiosity, mania, or both. I'm seldom manic, so I don't really know how to handle it. It is kind of fun, though; despite being under psychic stress, life seems magical again. My life hasn't felt magical since 2013, so this was welcome; I figured that my life forever lacked the luster and the intrigue that made it worth living, but apparently not. I've been a little paranoid and have thought about ways to hide from others off the grid, and there are times where I think of myself as a part of a government think tank (which would probably be my dream job), but for the most part I know what I am.

It is hard to get my bearings right now, though.

I was talking to my friend today, and we were discussing how most people lack empathy, and can't put themselves into other people's shoes. I told her that I could, but she said that I'm not like most people. I think that this is the reason why I have so many problems; I'm around others who simply aren't as emotionally developed as me, I think. Even the intelligent ones, seem not to put too much thought into the inner dynamics of the mind, and the situations of others. I do feel that I'm a bit smarter than others, but that is because I had to work for it, not because I was born that way. Growing up, I was made to feel like I was an idiot, and I was seen and claimed to be an idiot, not just by my classmates (and some teachers), but also my family. There was a period of roughly four or five years where I was the "family embarrassment". It took me the better part of a decade to become as wise and relatively decent as I am now.

The thing is, though, is that I don't want to think that I'm so much smarter than everyone else. Partially, because I have flaws of my own, but mostly because I really do try to see the good points of someone's mind. But the simple fact of the matter is that people just don't want to use their minds and become more educated and wise; they just want to settle for simple mental heuristics and labels, because it is far less mentally taxing. I just don't understand why even the professionals are so cognitively lazy, when they are the ones who should be putting their minds to the grind.

I can use it to my advantage, though. I'm starting to finally see how people tick, and I can gain from such valuable insight. I have a business plan of sorts that utilizes simple online advertisements that have a simple message but are so politically and emotionally charged that people who don't like to think very deeply would click on it; it would take them to another site with ads, thus generating a profit that would gradually accumulate. I have to learn more about how it works in order for it to work, though, but knowing how I could potentially get rich off of other people's simplicity (or to bluntly put it, stupidity), it is pretty morbidly entertaining for me. I don't really want to focus on money, though; this is more of a game to me than anything else.

Well, I suppose that I should try to get better, if that is what is best.
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My birthday was last Friday. I'm 32 now.

I feel okay about it; I was prepared for it, but last week was a very slow week, for some reason. My therapist told me that I don't do well around birthdays, because I reflect and think about my life. Obviously, this causes me to get depressed, since outside of getting a Master's degree I am almost a complete failure. My therapist has seen me go through about five birthdays, so she knows what she is talking about.

The odd thing is that I really don't despise myself. I truly do enjoy life, at least slightly. But I just feel like I am not on the right track. To be fair, though, it may be possible that I really am better off how I am now, for my therapist has seen many people do fine on SSI, and then decide to get a job again, and then they fall right back down. I'm on SSI for everyone's sake, not just for my own. I can get pretty scary, at times, although I haven't acted like a freak in a while. Being able to minimize the stress in my life makes me stable.

To be frank, I'm amazed that I'm still alive and relatively functional. I've had a messed up life.

I had dinner on my birthday with my father and his girlfriend. It was surprisingly not bad, and the food was delicious. Nonetheless, it was still kind of weird to be around that. I just wonder if people really can replace loved ones like that, without much feeling or thought, and have others think that it is perfectly normal. Are relationships truly that shallow, or can others truly not stand being alone? My father couldn't even last a year by himself, whereas I have live a life in almost complete isolation, at least psychologically. I just don't know. I don't have a lot of faith in humanity from all of this, but I think that it is best to simply not think about it. It still makes me wonder, though.

Around a day after my birthday, I came to the realization that I've felt like multiple different people in my life not because I am complex, but just the opposite: I am vacuous inside. People who are empty on the inside are easy to fill up with an outside identity. That is what happened to me in my teens, when I was falsely diagnosed. And then it was forced down my throat, and I was treated like a retarded baby, and I simply didn't ever figure out who I was, or how it could be otherwise. All of that is gone, of course, but no genuine identity has sprung forth to replace it. And I don't think that any ever will. But is this really the same for anyone else? I don't know. A lot of people are pretty vapid, even those who you wouldn't think are. Not that I'm any better than them, outside of my self-awareness; I'm just a loser on SSI.

Oh well. At least things are not entirely boring.
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I'm a little bit better now. I feel a little sick, probably from the stress and perhaps the smokes and the alcohol. I haven't drank or smoked all that much (I've seldom betrayed the "once-every-other-day" schedule), but I need to stop doing that because it isn't helping and they are probably making me sick, or at least making it more likely for me to get sick.

I was stressed out for about three weeks. Still sort of am; it was making my hair fall out. When I was on the phone with my sister, she told me that when I told her of the bad news, that she could tell that I was under so much distress. I just hate how something can totally not be your fault, and yet only you suffer the consequences. I've had to experience that a lot.

I don't feel like I'm dying, but I do think that I have to stop doing this shit. I'm sick of it.

I likely won't move. I can't afford to move anywhere and I like it here, anyways. I shouldn't make a sacrifice just because someone else is being dishonest and childish. It turns out that my brother didn't know, and he fully supports our father. Big surprise there. I probably will be more distant towards both of them; I can really only enjoy my life when I'm not reminded of this shit. Fortunately, there have been times where I don't think about it, and act like it never happened.

I'm reading and writing again. After I read a book by Simone De Beauvoir, I'm probably going to write something about existentialism, which is my favorite school of philosophy (so far).

When I talked to my therapist about what happened yesterday, she told me that my father can replace his wife, but that he can't replace my mother. Only I have the power to make that choice. She is right, but it doesn't make it any less hard.

Oh well, at least my life isn't entirely boring right now.

I just have to become more distant with them. Disowning my father wouldn't do any good, at least right now. But I'm sick and tired of pretending and being manipulated. Even if my mother was still alive and our family was normal, you don't try to be a "big, happy family" when your oldest son is nearly 32. It just doesn't work.

I guess that I am still sort of angry, but if I shut it out of my life, it won't be a major problem.

Well, here is hoping that I end up not damaged or anything.
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I could say that nothing happened over the past month, but that would be a big fucking lie. Would have been true until about a week ago, though.

I was over for dinner at my father's house last Wednesday, and he brought up in a lateral fashion that he and his girlfriend were getting married. There were a fair amount of clues, so as such I knew that it could have happened, but the way that he brought it up with his girlfriend right in front of me was emotionally manipulative. I couldn't look him in the eye or tell him that it was wrong (which it is), but I was able to expose him as a liar to his girlfriend, saying calmly that he told my brother that he wasn't going to marry her (which he denied) and that mother never wrote because she thought that he would never remarry (he replied by saying that she did, so I'll have to look into that). And I didn't even mean to expose him like that; nonetheless, it is pretty obvious that he was either lying all along, or decided to go back on his word. I have caught him lying about benign shit multiple times over the past year or two. And even if he didn't plan on lying, does that negate the fact that you can't trust someone who goes back on their word, let alone respect them? I don't think so.

Of course, I told my sister about it. It was hard to do, but I had to; it would have been wrong otherwise. She felt angry about it, but was very reasonable and controlled; she was not hysterical at all. Her main concern was that the house and the belongings might go to another family, which is very possible. I brought up the facts that our father was writing prenups, thus potentially meaning that they wouldn't, and that he told me to make a list of the things that I wanted after he died. She was pleased about the latter, but added that if he dies the prenups won't matter, especially if the house is going to be in the girlfriend's name. I don't know if there is anything we can do about it; it could be worse though, since that house wasn't the one that we grew up in. Still, it is a family resource, and it shouldn't be handed down to a stranger's family just because some divorcee from a lower background married a DOCTOR who was too weak and desperate to stand on his own.

Our conversation was perhaps the most important one I've ever had, or at least one of them.

The day after, my brother called me. He did say that he talked to our father, but didn't bring up the remarriage. I could tell, though, that he was slightly upset; I might speaking too soon, but I think that he is finally starting to see our father for who he really is. He asked me if I wanted to move to where he is so that I could be closer to family that I get along with, and I said that I was now thinking about moving (which is true). I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was worried about me. He also wants me to get a job, which I am thinking about. SSI wouldn't be enough to live on where he lives, and it isn't meant to replace a paycheck in any case. I just applied to Orange Julius yesterday (I have a friend there) so I might be lucky in getting one.

I probably will move. It is just becoming intolerable to live here. Not just my father, either; I've simply been here for too long. I need a change, to leave the past behind me. I've been here for six years, and the people around me just keep getting younger to the point where I don't fit in anymore. I feel like I'm just stagnating here. I could stagnate where I want to move to, as well, but at least I'd be doing something different for once. It is just a matter of money, I think, but that can be remedied over time. I should start getting rid of some of my stuff to prepare for the move.

It is just so bizarre, this turn of events. I can't do much right now, because I'm just dealing with all of this bullshit. And none of it is my fault, either; not a single bit of it has been brought on by myself. I'm being too civil and calm, if anything. But it is like this: I wake up, not really knowing what is going on. Then, after about half an hour, I start to realize the reality that I'm in, and after about an hour I get to the point where I'm so sad, angry and disgusted that I want to scream and vomit. My father is a disgrace to the family, and I'm not alone in thinking that. This whole thing is practically a waking nightmare, one that I never would have thought would happen when mother was still alive, because at the time I bought in to my father's lies. But in fairness, I always knew that he was very weak on some level or another...simply not as weak as this.

Oh well. Nothing I can do about it. Just have to prepare for my own life away from this whole ordeal. I'm done with it now. We never going to be one big, happy family, especially when mother is just replaced like this.
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It has been a while again.

Apparently someone disappeared at my apartment complex. He was an older guy who had to use a cane, and I hardly saw him without some malt liquor. Most disappearances of that sort are usually suicides, but the odd thing was that he didn't kill himself inside his apartment. I saw the inside as they were cleaning it out, and it was filled with several (and I mean a FUCKLOAD) tallboys of malt liquor.

It made me reflect. I thought to myself, "Is this where I am headed? Do I want to end up like that? I don't think that I will, but I might." So as such, I have to be careful about how I treat myself and how I live my life, else I end up like him, or something similar.

I talked to the guy who lives right next to where that guy lived, and he turned out to be a nice guy; I thought that I wouldn't like him, but I'm usually wrong about that. He says that the cleaners asked him what happened, so as such no one has any idea what happened. Today the cleaning lady (who I think was my former neighbor at the place where I used to live) claimed that he stole her pink purse, and he called the cops on the matter to get it all resolved. Isn't that pleasant (and downright surreal, for that matter)?

Still am not drinking every day. I've been doing that for a while, so as such this is something significant. I don't think I've done anything like this, to be honest. Complete dry stretches, yes, but not moderated drinking. My bank account is doing better, as is my health. I still might drink today, though.

All in all, that is all. Just reading books and taking care of necessary stuff.
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It has been about a month since I last posted. Things have happened, but I couldn't really jot them down. I don't completely remember the early part of this month, in any case.

My father and his girlfriend are going on a sailing trip down the coast of Mexico. I think that it is really foolish, because neither one of them speaks Spanish (at least I don't think that they do), his girlfriend doesn't really know how to sail, there are tides, storms and pirates down there, and there is bacteria in the water. Not to mention that he has never gone on any kind of trip like this; the San Juan Islands are just a dot on the map in comparison to the coast of Mexico.

Some people think that they will be okay (although most don't), but my father told me a month ago that they don't care if they die on the trip. Why would his girlfriend think that? She just retired. Obviously, he has some sort of death wish. When I told my sister that part, she immediately freaked out and said that he said this kind of crap when he was going to kill himself. Before then, she was just neutral about it, which was weird because I thought that I told her, but I suppose that I left that part out. In any case, they could die, or something else could happen that is not good. I'm not hoping for it, but it is realistic.

There is also the whole thing about where is he getting all this money to go on these trips and buy a sailboat in San Diego, but I have no proof of anything, so I can't accuse him of anything bad, at least not yet.

I don't drink every day anymore. That is great, because I don't want to waste my money and I care about my health. I don't like beer anymore, anyway; I threw up last night on my old laptop and I thought that I ruined it, but I likely didn't. I just think that drinking alcohol is pretty silly and juvenile, and is a waste of time.

I also don't want to do DXM as much; I'm not going to do it today, so that is good.

I've been reading some Existentialism recently, mostly by Camus. I like him; I agree with most of what he says, even if he isn't always clear. Sartre, on the other hand, is almost pure nonsense. Reading that kind of stuff makes me feel like I'm not an idiot.

I messed around with Irfanview yesterday, and it was really cool. It inspired me to make my own GIFs and pixel art. I think that I'm going to do that with my time now, instead of drinking.

Overall, things are above-average.
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This month went by pretty quickly. It could have been faster, but it really seems like this summer has just been breezing by.

It has only been a little over five weeks since I've moved from the old place, but it feels like I have been at my apartment for about a year. I really like my apartment; I did like the old place, but my former roommate was starting to become very irritable and unpleasant and I realized that all the good memories that I could have made there had already been made, so as such it was best for me to leave.

I was there just a few days ago because the electricity bill for that place was accidentally sent to me. I went over there and left it at the door, and then went on the carport roof, one of my favorite things to do when I was there. It just didn't feel the same; it didn't even look the same, even though it basically was. All I had in my head was, "This just doesn't feel right." Well, at least that means that I moved on, for the most part.

I read one of Chuck Klosterman's books last week, and at first I was tempted to write one of my own in his style, but I eventually decided against it, because I felt that if it brought me fame, it would bring me the kind of fame that I wouldn't want. I wouldn't be writing it in a sincere manner, in any case. I don't want to be ultra-famous or some talking head that is known for being controversial (believe it or not); I just want to write scholarly stuff and be mildly known for that. I actually am writing a rough draft right now on a subject, but I still have doubts about whether or not any of these writings are going to amount to anything. But if I keep on writing and writing, I will have amassed a large amount of original documents, enough to make up a database or archive, and that alone is worth something, in my eyes. I mean, at least I could say that I did something with my life. I like writing, anyway, because it takes my mind off of how pathetic my life is.

I'm glad that I don't have internet at my apartment. I hate most of the internet; it is filled with garbage and boring people. It used to be that you could meet people who were really interesting, or at least fun. But now everyone is so wrapped up in themselves and people are even more caustic than they used to be. Almost no one talks about things that are interesting to me. Back in the day (roughly a decade ago) I could point out at least twenty interesting people online; now, I'm pretty sure that I could only do that with about four or five. I don't know why this is; part of it might be because I have higher standards now. But I think that most of it is because the internet is now a part of real life, and people are too afraid to be different. Of course, they would never admit that, but nonetheless there is always a "right" way of doing things, and many "wrong" ways of doing them, to most people. And that in itself is going to stop a lot of interesting things from happening. Just...I don't know. Most things are so boring these days. There are maybe two or three sites that especially interest me these days. People in general just spend hours dicking around on their smartphones; I have no idea why anyone would waste their time like that. Read a book or something. I've never owned a smartphone, and I doubt that I ever will.

Outside of that, nothing much is going on. I just want to stop drinking altogether; I only drink a 40 oz a night now, which is a significant reduction. I am also looking after my father's house while he is gone; he put down the dog that his girlfriend had. I feel sad about that; before I learned that, I thought that I was a borderline sociopath, but I guess that I am not quite.
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I haven't posted in a while. Although there have been periods of time when I didn't post for quite a bit longer.

Things have been pretty quiet. I've been kind of sick for a few days, I had dinner with my father and his girlfriend alone for the first time, and I went to have a medical exam, but that is about it.

I realized just yesterday that I'm really no worse off than I would be if I had a decent, full time job with a decent amount of money. I mean, sure, being on SSI and not having a job makes me feel like a loser, but on the other hand it was due to things that were completely out of my control. I think that what really made me angry wasn't that I really was a loser, but that I had proven myself by getting a Master's degree in something that isn't completely useless and yet I was still doomed to work the lowest of the low positions. For a long time, I felt that people were against me and worked towards making sure I was kept down. I still feel this way. But nonetheless, I can at least say that none of it was my fault, and that I have the luxury of having all the time in the world to spend as I wish. Not even most of the very rich have that freedom. Still, I have the feeling that I will never amount to anything, and that gets to me. People say that I'm a brilliant writer, but I have absolutely no idea how to get my poems and essays out there. And without that, you may as well not be writing at all.

I've noticed that I get a lot more angry these days. I guess that I'm more fed up with everything now. I have been wronged in some ways, but not recently. I don't know why this is happening, outside of being more sick. I don't know why I get more sick, either. I used to never get sick.

I just hope that my health is okay. I don't have any explanation for why I get so sick, so as such I kind of wonder why it is happening. I hope that my liver isn't damaged or anything.

Overall, I'm just trying not to feel like a loser. I like to think that I'm not, but I have no proof of that. My mind isn't as good as it used to be, I feel like my health is dwindling away, and I am afraid that I likely have no opportunities to become something great in my life. It is hard to move on, when you have nothing to move on to.
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It has been about two weeks since I moved.

I love it. I don't feel antsy in there anymore; I've learned how to deal with boredom. I think that I initially felt that way because I didn't know how to spend my time without the internet, but now I just like to chill out. I'm actually a lot more happy and mentally healthy without constant access to the internet; it provides me a lot less opportunity to remind myself that I'm not like anyone else, and as such I'm a lot less jaded.

I could spend all day in my apartment, but I like going out sometimes. I still need to see my small amount of friends, anyway, just to keep myself somewhat in the loop. I don't need a social life but I don't want my ability to talk to others to completely atrophy.

It hasn't rained in over a month. It has just been fairly hot and sunny. I hate it.

I paid my former roommate all of the money that I owed him, and to celebrate I got drunk. It was fun at the time, but during the next day I just felt like a degenerate loser. It was the first time I felt extremely ashamed about it; usually I just made excuses in the past. I didn't have a drop of alcohol the day after, though, so that was good. I'm planning to stay away from alcohol. It is unhealthy, a waste of time and way too expensive, anyway. Even if I could afford it, I don't know if I would want to drink it anymore.

As it turns out, my former roommate still lives at the old place. I sort of knew that; he said that he wanted to move out, but the arrangement that he made didn't work out. I believe him, although if it was a few weeks ago I would have called him a liar. He seemed pretty unhappy. I'm not glad that he fucked himself over, but he did bring it all on himself.

I still slightly miss the old place, but it brought out a lot of bad habits and I needed to move on and start living on my own. I was getting too old to have roommates.

Basically, these days I just chill out in my apartment and carry out solitary activities. I like reading and writing, and I write about ten pages of poetry a day. One of my friends has been reading my poems and she likes them. The problem is, though, is that I don't know how to really get my poems out there, so it might be a while. I am not sure if anyone reads poetry anymore, anyway. I also want to make computer games and music again, as well as practice drawing (which I actually have been doing), but my poetry comes first.

Other than that, pretty much nothing. The death anniversary of my mother was uneventful, save for meeting my brother's girlfriend for the first time. She is nice. I'm watching my weight now and I have lost a few pounds, and it is odd because my brother now weighs more than me. It used to be the other way around for several years. I don't eat that much, even when I'm hungry, because I'm barely stressed out or anxious anymore. That, in combination with alcohol reduction, will likely make me skinny again, for the first time in about five years.
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I moved last Wednesday, so about five days ago.

I had one of my friends help me with the furniture. He brought his old truck and we were able to do it in only one load. He liked my old place, and he actually used to live in the apartment complex that I moved to about ten years ago. Overall, he was a great help.

My father brought a desk the next morning. I showed him some of my apartment, and he talked about my mother a bit. That was good; I felt that he had just forgotten about her, but fortunately he didn't. I'm not terribly angry at him anymore.

There is no internet at my place. That is good, because the internet is more or less a giant distraction. I go to the university every day to use their wi-fi, and I spend about an hour or so on there. It helps me stay out of my apartment a bit more. A lot of the sites that I used to go to are blocked, but that is okay because they were garbage sites that just made me jaded and depressed. I feel a little bit more optimistic about the future now.

I spend about an hour a day, sometimes more, writing poems and revising them. I write about ten pages of poems a day. I get the feeling that they suck (or at least most of them do), and they are mostly prose poems, but at least I'm putting in a sincere effort to have a constructive hobby. I've also been drawing, and reading of course. It was really fucking hot yesterday, though (like, 110 degrees) and as such I could barely do anything.

Living in the apartment is different. It is better because I have complete control over what goes on, and I don't have to deal with anyone's crap, but at the same time I don't have anyone to even casually talk to and I get slightly lonely. But it isn't as bad as it used to be; I think that I am getting used to it. Instead of feeling that all-consuming anxiety that would eat at me and just fester, now I just have this antsy, angry feeling that I should do something with myself, but can't. I prefer that feeling more than the anxiety.

I actually went to a bar on Saturday because I felt lonely. I didn't get drunk, though. I was approachable enough that a young woman talked to me, which was great. I felt better about myself after that; I'm used to people thinking that I'm weird, but perhaps I'm really just not. I try to be normal, at least. It wasn't like I prayed to God to make me a special snowflake.

I'm not drinking as much. Just don't get as much satisfaction from beer as I used to. Although I will probably still drink for a while; just less of it.

Well, that is it for now.
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I move exactly a week from now.

I've been okay at not spending too much money, and I have done better than realistically expected, but I'm going to have to be careful with my money from now on. Should have been a bit earlier, and I sort of was, but I was somewhat dependent on alcohol, and that stuff is too expensive. If I stop drinking alcohol altogether, I will actually be more able to save money. I need to do that. It isn't impossible because I'm already drinking less and I have the motivation to quit; not only that, I'm not an alcoholic, although I sort of approached that at times. I also quit smoking again, and I don't plan on ever picking that back up. I need to stop things short before they turn into real problems again.

Other than that, just preparing for the move. I'm optimistic, but I know that I'm going to have to make some changes and some sacrifices in order for this to work out well, and I think I can do it. It will be great because not only will I be on my own, but it will give me an opportunity to change my life a bit. There are a lot of things that I have wanted to do, but haven't, simply because I live with someone else. Mostly just stuff that would require a lot of focus, like painting in the living room. I actually did make a painting about two years ago; I'm not good at it, but I want to do it again. There are many things I would like to do, that I am not necessarily good at (drawing, painting, making mashups, etc.).

I have had some success with my special power recently; I was able to enter into the mental realm in two consecutive days. The first day was just a vista of a industrial district of a city, and the second day was a vivid movie clip and a summoning attempt. For some odd reason, my ability to see in the mental realm "fogs up" at times. I have no idea why; perhaps it is the sign that I don't have enough energy for the sight to remain stable, or that I still need to advance my ability? Who can say? All I know is that I've never heard of anyone ever being able to do anything like this, and I've been many places and have listened to many people. I must have a special and rare, albeit currently very weak power. I'd love to do more with it, and to see if there are others with the same ability.
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I finished my second book of poetry today. It is titled, "Many Questions, Few Answers". I wrote over 130 poems in less than a month; that is pretty impressive, to me. On the whole, I am proud of the work, but I realize that I probably have at least a little bit left to go before I become something noteworthy. I am good, but I'm nowhere near the best.

I think that what is going to kill my chances as a poet in particular, and a writer in general, is that I have no idea how to get my works out outside of self-publishing. And I don't like doing that. Self-publishing is like using a vanity press, except in the former case you generally don't pay any money, or at least you don't have to. But I'm still improving, and I might get a better idea about how to do it nice and proper; at least my poems no longer revolve around myself so much. If going to church taught me anything, it is that you should look for things outside of yourself, rather than be completely self-absorbed. I was like that for years and it did me no good, but at least I snapped out of it.

Other than that, I'm still not drinking so much (about once every third day). I don't like spending a lot of money on a fickle high. At least DXM gives you a sense of meaning. Plus, I don't like beer as much as I used to. So about five years of near-solid drinking; happened a bit later in my life than most, but that isn't a long period and I learned pretty well in the end. I could relapse, sure, but why? Drinking beer doesn't solve anything; it just gives you a sense of euphoria that lasts maybe three hours and increases your anxiety afterwards. I really only did it because I was bored so much, and have a lot of time on my hands. I did drink while I had a job, but nowhere near as much as without one.

I've been putting things into boxes and leaving them in the living room for the move in two weeks. I don't have a lot of stuff; perhaps only 20% of my stuff is still in my room, excluding furniture. It will probably be easy to move to the new place, outside of my bed and the cabinet.

Well, all is okay right now. I'm not going crazy, I'm not as stressed out anymore, and I feel a little bit healthier since toning down my substance use. Still feel slightly uneasy about the anticipation, though.
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Well, I found a place about a week ago, and I move in on the 24th.

It is great because I was so worried, and now I realize that while I had reason to be paranoid, it really wasn't as bad as I thought it was. The place itself is decent, but I will miss this place, in particular the view. But it is a one bedroom and is actually cheaper there than here, so it will probably work out for the best. Outside of my last year in graduate school, I never had a place that was solely my own (actually, there was that basement that I lived in for three months, but that place was terrible, so as such it doesn't quite count). In any case it has been a long time that I will have a private place, at the very least.

I've still been worked up, though. Don't quite know why; you'd think that the issues would be over when the problems are solved, but that is not always the case. Perhaps emotions don't work like that; it goes back to how I stated over half a year ago that we have more than one mind. I had a hard time today, but I drank a bit too much last night. I'm going to try to not drink so much anymore. I mean, what is the point?

I've been reading again. Mostly poetry by French authors. I rather like Rimbaud, but I feel that my style doesn't ascribe to any school of poetry, nor should it. I don't even try for it not to; it just doesn't. I'm almost done with my second book of poems.

I realized something about a week ago: my mother is dead, will always be dead, and I can only ever see her in my dreams from now on, and as such, I need to move on. Drinking won't make it better, nor will mourning on an annual basis. I just don't feel anything anymore, and it is long past, so as such, I have to move on. Although to be fair, I didn't drink that horribly this time around. It just feels natural to let it pass...I've changed a lot since she died.

I feel like I've become an idiot. I'm not; I'm just burdened right now. Stress can change the way you think for a while; it will probably last for a few weeks or so.
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Still feel like crap. Although when it rains, I feel a bit healthier, because it clears the air from that pollen shit. I can't believe that I've had allergies for at least two years and I just now have noticed it; I think that this is because I didn't have allergies at all during my youth and I believed that I would never get them. But no, it can happen to you, at any time.

My roommate actually has to move out as well; it didn't work out for his friend and his girlfriend. Just desserts, but since he has to deal with the fallout as well, I'm no longer angry at him. Things just change, eventually.

I need to stop drinking beer. It just depletes my savings, depletes my health, and just makes me feel like shit if I have too much. It used to be that I could handle nine to twelve beers with ease; now it obliterates me. I feel like total garbage whenever I drink that much the morning after. Plus, it is really making my anxiety and depression worse. I just feel like I can't do anything, and that my mind is just becoming retarded. Of course, it isn't, but I'm not performing well right now. I should drink something else instead, so that I don't make myself worse off in the long run; even having four beers sometimes feels like it is too much these days.

I've decided that even though I'm not reading right now, I'm going to write another book of poetry. I'm still writing poems, and I need a project so that I'm not a complete waste of space, so as such I may as well turn what I am doing into a book. It won't be centered around my psychotic disorder this time; I'm trying to distance myself from the poems. The poems that I write aren't very emotionally laden, but rather self-critical in a light-hearted manner. I'm having fun writing them, but I honestly think that I'm not doing enough with my time right now. Then again, there isn't much someone like me can do, unemployed or not; the fact that I have one talent is remarkable.

I'll try to weather through this. Hopefully I won't be subject to anyone's stupidity anytime soon, because I'm on the verge of snapping.
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I'm not feeling too well.

I don't know if it is physically or psychologically rooted. It could be both. I just feel like I'm going haywire and that my body is just acting up. I feel like I see things sometimes, my body heats up for no good reason, my throat swells up, my eyes hurt, I have almost no desire or energy...I just have never been through anything like this before.

When my mother was in hospice, I just felt like I was running on empty. I had to keep myself from crying in my workplace. Fortunately, I did, but that was still embarrassing. The year after Mom's death, I just drank a lot and did a stupid amount of legal highs. Last year, I was only worried about my father doing something inappropriate at my mother's grave.

You'd think that it would be easier as it goes on. That was the trend. But now, it isn't so. It is like my father has completely forgotten about my mother; I brought up that it was the time of the year a few days ago to him, and he just thought that I was talking about the seasons. How dense and shallow could he be? That was his wife, and now he forgets all about her. He replaced her with someone else, and expects his children to be happy for him. Well, I'm not.

Also when I inadvertently brought up about the denial of my autonomy growing up, he added "...and you're going to blame your parents for that?", laughed, and then said that his conscience is clear because while he may have made mistakes, he did what was best. Sure, he might have, but best for whom? It was really all about him, growing up. Not to mention that admitting mistakes and saying that "I did my best" does not absolve you from the fact that you fucked your kid's life up; there is no way I can have a normal life due to what happened to me when younger...I basically have no career path, and no future. What is worse, is that he fully admits that he made mistakes, but that it doesn't affect him at all. That takes some real nerve to openly admit that; he probably is emotionally shallow, with both this and forgetting about my mother. I don't know how long I can talk to him.

And even if my father had nothing to do with it, my life is still hard now as is. I have no motivation; I still want to do things with my life, and I have minor interests, but I can barely do anything. I can't even read a book; I have the fear that depression is turning me into an idiot. I'm not quite drinking myself stupid, but I need to watch that, as well.

I feel that this is the beginning of a downward spiral. I don't know how to stop it. It is bad enough that things are the way they are with my mother dead and my father the way he is; I also need to find another place as soon as possible. Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs is ringing true for me, and it may not end up pretty. Just...Jesus. I ended up dealing with low blows, and they all synergized into one great mess.

I don't feel suicidal. Oddly, I feel less angry at myself, or anything anymore. I'm just sad. Perhaps that is a sign of maturity; anger barely changes anything. It can, but it usually doesn't.
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I'm experiencing anxiety and stuff at this time. It is just the time of the year; three years ago was the day when my mother entered hospice, and she died two months later. You'd think that it would get better, and in some ways it ways, but in quite a few other ways it hasn't. I still dream about my mother on the odd occasion, but it really does feel like she's dead now. It has been that way for roughly half a year.

Tomorrow is also the five year anniversary of me leaving MTSU. I can't decide if that is a long time or a short one. Plenty has changed about both myself and others (I don't trust alcohol anymore, I don't like to party, I don't like bars, and one of my friends is dead). But even if not, it doesn't matter because that phase has passed and I doubt that I'll ever meet those people or visit that place again. I mean, sure, you never know, but it just seems unlikely. I did like being there, for the most part, but it is time to move on. On to what, though, I am not sure. I don't have much of a clue, to be honest. Oh well, at least I can say that I more or less act like an adult now.

So I'm just dealing with seasonal shit. Mostly in my personal life, but there have been a few things in the environment, as well. I must have allergies, because my eyes hurt and my nose isn't always doing well. I also don't like it when it suddenly gets hot. Mostly, though, I feel like I have mild dementia, because I can't focus, I get very angry for no reason, I forget things, and I feel like I'm hallucinating half the time. Then again, I seem to do that around this time of the year, and this was true even before my mother dying and then dead.

I've been having odd bouts of hypnagogic visions. It is cool that I have them, but I can't control them very well. I'm just taken to different vistas, and I can see them as plainly as if my eyes were open, but there isn't much to do in those places, if you even can do anything in the first place. Whenever I request a vision or an action of my own creation, it seems like my subconscious taunts me and either denies it, or gives me something I wouldn't expect. It seems that even in either the Astral plane or the Mental plane, I have little to no power.

Just...I don't know. It just feels crazy.

August 2017

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