One time my insomnia was so bad that even with Benadryl I could not fall asleep, because of how anxious I was. Thankfully this has stopped ever since I fixed my sleeping schedule and stopped drinking energy drinks.
I must forgive myself and I must forgive others. Not out of obligation but for my own sense of peace. I feel guilty every day just for existing sometimes, and feel guilty that I fail to meet my own standards I set for myself, and feel even more awful when others make me feel inadequate or not good enough, even though I am absolutely aware that I should never ever base my self worth on how others perceive me. Its just so hard to feel confident in myself when people undermine me or make me feel less than. I am trying my best. I must love myself despite how horrible anyone makes me feel.
THERE IS NO TIME FOR SELF PITY.
Thankfully I’ve had a more positive outlook on my life lately. As I’m trying to learn how to genuinely be better and be a better human by fighting off all nihilistic thoughts. By ascribing good intentions to others, by giving the benefit of the doubt, by reminding myself of the complexity of people. I must do it for myself otherwise I will drown in cynicism and a cycle of negativity. I must drown out any negative thoughts. Some call it copium, maybe it is. But I view it as self preservation at this point. For the sake of my own sanity. I can’t bask in self pity, it would be selfish. Guilt is selfish too. It's centered around the ego. my “guilt” my sense of “self” doesn’t even matter when the concept of self is an illusion anyways. but you can’t blame me when it’s the most logical means for a human being to make sense of the world.
I’m so human it’s genuinely painful. I want to be perfect and capable in every way. But I know it’s fruitless and the desire to be anything else but uniquely me is another form of suffering, and it makes me giggle. Many days feel like I’m diving headfirst into a mystery, into the unknown. Life feels anew to me right now. Why? Unpredictability. And a sense of starting over. Everyday I feel like I am always discovering something new in the world and within myself. Not even “practical” things necessarily, but learning new things about environments and people and subtleties in pattern recognition.
I have to accept every aspect of myself, from the beautiful and sublime to the treacherous shadows.
Dr. Huynh and his fellow residents told you sympathetically, and with regretful sorrows, that you only have a month to live before your intestines explode, killing you instantly. You just made the difficult decision to proceed with an abscess drain that would only prolong the inevitable.
I hesitate and sigh, feigning sadness in front of Dr. H in order to appear somewhat humane and not completely densitized with an overwhelming urge to complete tasks, checkmark boxes, give meds, and finish a discharge, as I just got my SBAR report. I am not in mortality-contemplating mode. I am not in a condolence mode, but I try my best. I knock on the door, mentally preparing for an explanation as to my rancid perfume stench after reading the sign on your door:
“THIS PATIENT IS VERY SENSITIVE TO SMELLS. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND DO NOT WEAR FRAGRANCES OR SCENTED PRODUCTS.”
It’s 3:30 pm already, I feel sick and ashamed. I can’t handle grief, let alone when others around me are grieving. I have no idea how to proceed. Not because I don’t care, but because work demeans human processing of emotions and careful, slow, methodical, therapeutic interactions. Everything is condensed into checkboxes and time-management. I already feel guilty and selfish for existing in your vicinity solely because of my 2 second choice this morning to spritz Elizabeth Arden’s White Tea Eau de Toilette I got at Macy’s on a quiet Tuesday, and for combing my free sample of the gourmand Supermilk by Lush leave-in conditioner all throughout my hair.
Awkwardly— without grace, I knock on the door and step into your hospital room. Sympathetic to your hyperosmic olfactory bulb, I attempt to contain myself to no avail, staying more than 10 feet away at all times, already apologizing profusely, with my body language guarded and reserved unconsciously out of embarrassment. Even my tender voice intrudes, as my perfumed stench permeates like a nuclear aromatic immensity from 15 feet away. The sickening scent of chemical-laced clary sage fern water, white iris, ambrette seashore, and candied mandarin orange slices in white tea. It clashes with the gourmand of my tousled brown hair bun dampened with super milk lush: nauseatingly sweet almond-oat biscuits hidden in condensed vanilla citrus milk. I imagine your mind is spinning with nausea, and your senses completely overwhelmed by hyperosmia induced by the chemotherapy medications you’re on--triggering a headache.
In and out in under a minute, I sincerely apologize for my fragrant decadence, quickly kick myself out of the room as if by a mysterious force, ask for another nurse who begrudgingly switches patients with me, and we never meet again. I sigh in relief, and I once again avoid facing mortality even though, ironically, mortality surrounds me.
So many things that autistic women go through resonate with me so deeply. Feeling everything so intensely, feeling the energy of others around me, eye contact feeling uncomfortable and nearly intimate (I sometimes have to force it because I don't want to appear disengaged and rude), always being the odd one out growing up and even in adult life, having to "mask" a lot in interactions with neurotypicals and in most public settings. I don't want to be one of those insufferable people who are self-diagnosing themselves as autistic based on tik tok trends, while having perfectly fine social skills and ability to understand social cues. I mention this because I have met people who self-diagnosed themselves as autistic despite being not only more well-liked and popular than me, but with much better social skills and ability to read social cues. I knew someone who genuinely thought that studying dinosaurs on wikipedia at night and obsessing over it was a "hyperfixation" and a symptom of their autism. I did the same thing when I studied CIA black sites and MK Ultra for a week straight until I got bored of it. That's not autism, it's called having interests. Autism hyperfixations tend to remain for a long time, a lot of times years. When your hyperfixation on a topic is related to autism, it includes neglecting self-care, communication limitations (as conversations may become limited to topics related to the hyperfixation), and social withdrawal: none of what either of us exhibited.
People need to get off of Tik Tok. The trend of people pretending they have autism stems from alienation exacerbated by our individualistic society, not knowing how to name their emotional intensity (e.g. anxiety), and jumping to “neurodivergent” for identity and community. Yet these same people get creeped out and/or uncomfortable by people who are clinically diagnosed with autism and exhibit symptoms of it such as stimming, flapping, and outbursts. These people who self-diagnosed themselves with autism on Tik Tok conveniently never show symptoms of the less romanticized aspects of it such as outbursts from sensory overload, meltdowns, repetitive behaviors, inability to socialize, quiet shutdowns, etc. I understand that it's a spectrum but it seems people only want to latch onto certain symptoms of subtype 1 to feel quirky and special (for example, popular social media influencer Jake Webber claiming he's autistic when he obviously isn't).
It's like the new gen-z version of "i'm so random and weird xD" during the 2000's myspace era. It's a huge pet peeve of mine when people pretend to be neurodivergent as a trend when they are very much socially accepted by others and don't struggle with being excluded the way I have for being neurodivergent. I am someone who was excluded my whole life for being different, I have thus learned to mask very well. The people who previously would've bullied me now calling themselves "neurodivergent" makes me feel like what I went through is being trivialized or aestheticized. It's only quirky types of autism that get attention, the ones who are conventionally attractive and post shorts on Youtube and Tik Tok. Not so much when it's a chubby 14 year old who is obsessed with collecting calculators, or a 54 year old father sobbing in the kitchen after a meltdown.
Here and there I have difficulty understanding social cues and sarcasm, but overall I feel like I am high functioning. I do not think I am autistic, mainly because I am good at reading people, their facial expressions, and body language, which is something an autistic person would struggle with. Instead, I am one those "highly sensitive people" with certain fixations that mirror what high-functioning autists have. I usually function in a constant state of hyperawareness that makes everyday things and interactions more heightened for me, and that's why I feel I connect with poetry, art, and music so deeply. The everyday immensities of life itself can only be adequately felt and described through art and music.
When I was 12 years old I was chubby from living a homeschooled sedentary lifestyle and overeating. I spent the majority of my days playing videos games and lurking 4chan imageboards, reading creepypastas, browing tumblr, and reading conspiracy theories. I lived quite a sheltered life, with my only social interactions being with my parents and the internet world. I did not "socialize" with anyone online or have any online friends because my anxiety was so severe, but I was a chronic lurker and notorious internet troll on the MMO I played called Vindictus and the game League of Legends back in its early days. Because I lived such an isolated life during ages 11-13, spending my father's money on video game currency, I was practically raised by the internet and could no longer relate to peers my age, and had lost any semblance of social skills. I developed agoraphobia and an extreme form of social anxiety, where I could not even step out of the house in fear that neighbors or people walking outside could see me. I was so pale, constantly sick, and ended up with a staph infection on my face, and hated myself so much, how fat I was, how ugly I always felt. I had always had social anxiety due to the trauma of being bullied throughout my childhood, and it resulted in me begging my parents to let me attend an online homeschooling program because I could no longer withstand the pain of being perceived by others anymore. But it ended up altering the trajectory of the rest of my life.
During this time, I was hitting puberty and becoming aware of my own body and how chubby I felt in comparison to the photos I would see on tumblr.com. How hideous and dry I looked compared to the thinspo photos. I could no longer withstand being in my own skin. I unknowingly developed anorexia that lasted until I finally entered a public high school (Which was a shock to my system: I had to learn how to navigate through teenage social dynamics from scratch). It wasn't just the sort of chic-anorexia you commonly see in functioning everyday women: the ones who drink matcha latte's as breakfast and have a bagel and a side of carrots for lunch. It was something much worse and more extreme, akin to christian bale's diet in preparation for his role in the film The Machinist. On my gaming PC, I had extremely large folders filled with photos from tumblr and 4chan of thinspo pics, dieting charts, calorie restriction calendars, BMI comparisons, etc. I would collect these images everyday while starving myself thin. I would oggle at the thinspo photos, desparately wishing I could somehow one day be as "attractive" and "desired" as they were. My strict diet regimen consisted of: a calorie restriction of 800 calories at most, and 300 calories on a particularly strict day. and then I would do 16 hour intermittent fasting. I made sure to constantly consume at least 2 liters of water a day, to the point where I would have the urge to urinate approximately every 30 minutes to an hour. My diet consisted of fruits: either apples, bananas, or oranges, which I would meticulously log into my myfitnesspal calorie tracker. As a snack, I would have 1 cup of cheerios that I measured diligently, snacking on slowly while I stared at images of gluttonous food porn as a weird form of motivation. It made me so desperately hungry. Within one month of this, I had lost 25 pounds. It was extremely hard, and took an insane amount of discipline. To be so hungry, fatigued, cold all the time. All I could think about was food. It wasn't a normal hunger, but a ravenous primitive one. Like I was an animal. I wasn't just thinking about normal food. All I could think about was sodium rich greasy pizzas and french fries, monstrously colorful cakes and cotton candy ice cream, mozzarellas sticks and a gourmet burger on the side, caramelized funnel cakes. I would stare at photos of images of junk foods and mukbangs to the point where I could almost feel the taste and smell of it. All while I restricted myself to fruits, veggies without dressing, and if I wanted to treat myself, toasted bread with peanut butter on top.
how odd it is to grow up ugly and bullied, but then be called "beautiful", "pretty", "cute" as an adult now, and how different of an experience it is. People going out of their way to call me pretty, even strangers, and being asked out at least once constantly when I go out on my own. People actually respect me now, people take me more seriously, people pay attention to me, I am not mocked in front of my face. I'm no longer told that I will amount to nothing but working at a hot dog stand. It honestly sickens me in a way, how people were so cruel to a child but so kind to me now, just because I have transformed myself so entirely. Deep down, that girl who always felt herself ugly and hideous to the point where she wanted to be invisible is still there deep down inside me. That hurt, lost child, who never got support from anyone, who adults failed tremendously in every which way.
I'm extremely proud of how much I have my shit together despite everything and how far I have grown. How much confidence and dignity I have gained in myself since those days. Maybe the lost child me is still there, but I am here for her, nurturing her. Letting her know all the abuse she endured was never her fault.
My eating disorder had a profound impact on me today. I still feel guilt when I eat a lot of food and desserts, and I now deal with periods of binge eating and immense shame afterwards. Thankfully I have gotten it under control lately and have disciplined myself again. I cannot stand eating dinner with people who order a salad at a restaurant and refuse to get anything even slightly gluttonous. I know it's my own insecurities being projected onto others. I like ordering something savory and filling, because why go to a restaurant after all if I plan on dieting the whole time? I like being around people who eat a lot. It makes me feel less guilty. I have such an abusive relationship with food, and it goes far deeper than what I have just mentioned, there is my decade long battle with bulimia that feels way too embarrassing and shameful for me to talk about so openly.
Back in my community college days, around the age of 19, I had a "self-help" phase and would read best-sellers you'd often hear about on dudebro podcasts or see on the Amazon non-fiction best sellers list. Self-help gave me meaning in one of the most lonely chapters of my life, and it eventually transitioned into an obsession with Taoism and Buddhism. I am very embarrassed about this, as a lot of self-help and corporate culture has completely appropriated eastern philosophy and religions, and I feel that I fit into that category out of desperation to find meaning. Anyways, during this time, I had read a book called Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking. It was one of the worst books i've ever had the displeasure of reading, and that was back then when my taste in books was absolutely horrid and obnoxious.
In Quiet there is an obvious tone of superiority, posturing introverts as smarter, more thoughtful, more careful, and overall more beneficial to society than "extroverts". I want to profess that these disinct black-and-white categories of introversion vs. extroversion are absurd and ridiculous to me. The book even goes on to categorize entire countries as being either introverted or extroverted (e.g. Japan vs. USA). Imagine boxing the complexities of a country, let alone an entire human being into an either/or category. I have this same issue with pop-psychology MBTI jargon, numerology, zodiac (which btw, all has been debunked!). look. introverts tend to gain energy from time alone, and extroverts gain energy from time spent around others. neither one is superior to the other, nor are extroverts somehow less introspective and more shallow. I am sick of the tone of superiority that introverts who *pride* themselves in being introverted take on. "oh, I don't like partying, I find it shallow and meaningless actually and prefer dEeP pHiLosOPHical talks. lets talk about aliens and the meaninglessness of existence." Yeah, no, just tell us you lack basic social skills and have the philosophical depth of 14 year old on r/philosophy who just discovered nietszche. You are all extremely lame. I say that as someone who would be categorized as deeply introverted.
pic related:
Reading some of my more heavy and highly-personal writing, one can see a theme of me being made to feel small by others. I want to highlight that I am by no means trying to constantly victimize myself or view the world as out to get me. But genuinely, for some reason, I have always been a target by bullies my entire life and I do not know why. The only thing I can chalk it up to is me having a natural neurodivergence to me that makes others feel uncomfortable or threatened, or me being relatively passive and not all that confrontative or "assertive", making me seem more vulnerable? I have been called everything: weak, dumb, retard, slow, ugly, smelly, never going to amount to anything but working at a hot dog stand (I was told this multiple times by other children when I was a kid), called loser multiple times by people I thought were my friends during my adult life, mocked and put down for my interests, or also people excluding me in adult life, isolating me from having a sense of belonging within a group and purposely making me feel left out. Basically, I constantly feel that I am in the outgroup, even though I do not want to be, and I do want to feel closer to people, but I don't think people really care to get to know me or be close to me. Is this similar to the "autistic experience" that people on the spectrum describe?
In the end it's not my fault, it was never my fault, and I have to remain strong and dignified within myself. I try my best. There are certain rare people who just naturally understand me. Though I truly do believe some people just were not meant to have many friends, and I am one of those people. I wonder if there is some sort of evolutionary purpose to this theory?
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An analysis regarding an ex friend: Written on february 28 2025, one month after blocking her on everything
I’ve decided to write this to be able to document the ways in which I have witnessed and faced bullying, cruelty, and prejudice from a certain individual, to the likes of which I have doubted my self worth. How being in her presence has been enough to influence me in negative ways, making me doubt my own moral judgements. The purpose of writing this is as a therapeutic exercise to both strengthen my belief in myself and stand firm on what my intuition has always known. This is not meant to be anything formal, but an analysis of seeing bigotry within a human being take place right in front of me. I even question myself as I write this: Why give so much thought and importance to someone who doesn’t deserve an inkling of my brain power? My goal here is to type out everything: all my bottled up thoughts, emotions, and complicated feelings that have pent up in me, and to move on and forget about this all once I have finished getting it all out.
I first met this person, let's call her K, in Spring of 2022 during one of my clinical rotations. During that time I didn’t really know many people from the cohort and mostly kept to myself. I, being human and enmeshed in my own patterns, boxed my classmates into certain categories, and I viewed her as one of the more popular and "liked" students: involved in multiple nursing organizations and clubs, goes to raves with classmates, seems to have a lot of friends and her own clique. This categorization was accurate, and I mistakenly assumed that she must be a redeemable person if she has so many friends and community involvement, right? However, I now understand deeply that humans are much more multifaceted and complex than any assumptions I could have, and I was proven that quite forcibly from this experience. I have learned many lessons from this. I distinctly remember my first interaction with K: she was bubbly and friendly to me with a hint of sass. I first felt a bit intimidated by her, but after out first interaction I felt she’s the type to defend you from others or offer you a seat and assurance. That was my first impression of her, but it was clear my mind decided to ignore the gut instinct signaling “mean girl” and gave her the benefit of the doubt. I decided to see the good in her. During this semester our interactions were pretty uneventful. We’d talk a few times during our downtime in clinicals, and there wasn’t anything noteworthy I remember except 2 things:
This is the first time she mentioned another friend named A to me. She said I remind her of a “former friend” who she no longer talks to because that friend is anorexic. This former friend was A, and I reminded K of her due to my alternative interests and views. The first red flag that I didn’t notice here was, why was she so quick to tell me S's personal business? Was A really ok with someone talking about her mental health so openly like that?
I remember mistakenly being trusting and open, as I usually am towards others: I told K (during this time), that I loved to drink a lot and kind of had an issue with alcohol. This will be relevant later.
Fast forward to the end of 2023, by this point I’ve already met and befriended A and we’ve hung out as a trio at least once. I’d like to delve into some of the major red flags I encountered in K and some in A, that I ended up second guessing myself.
Our first hang out as a trio: I invited and drove the 3 of us to see a movie. My goal was that I wanted to meet A and scope out whether I can see myself being closer friends with the two of them. First HUGE red flag: M, in my own car, starts making violent and cruel jokes about homeless people and children as I am driving us to SF. She makes jokes about earning “+100 points for shooting that homeless woman, 10 points for killing that homeless child.” Internally, I was both shocked and absolutely disgusted that someone who is going to be a FUCKING NURSE is saying such horrendous things. Aren’t nurses supposed to have empathy and compassion for those in our society at their lowest? How can one be so cruel about marginalized people when you are entering a profession where you will be in direct contact with many houseless people and likely taking care of them? I was speechless, and again, had no self respect and decided to go along with it. Keep in mind that A was not only going along with it, but joking about it as well. This cruel human wants to be a nurse that works with mothers and babies, and yet she makes jokes like this with no hesitation.
As we start walking towards the theater, we start talking about different types of asian foods. The topic of filipino food gets brought up, and I mention how you really don’t see that many filipino restaurants in SF. and she boldly and nonchalantly exclaims: “That’s being filipino food tastes like shit.” to my face. It is one thing to be racist. But it’s another thing to lack emotional intelligence and social awareness, so that you feel unashamed and not embarrassed to loudly exclaim to an actual filipino that the food in her own culture is garbage. Extremely weird and lacking social skills much? Again, I would never want this person as my nurse. How is she gonna feel when her Filipino tita nurses and CNA’s are bringing in lumpia and pancit to nursing potlucks in her breakrooms? Is she gonna sit there, miserable and with no taste for seasoning, not eating it? Telling them to their face is “tastes bad”? Is she ever gonna think back on this comment she said to me if she ever eats Filipino food? I highly doubt it.
Another one of our hangouts as a trio was when we went to go thrifting and go eat out afterwards.
During our meal, K starts mocking A and calling her fat when A wants to get a to-go box. This issue might be more nuanced because I understand that people communicate differently in friendships, especially in such a close friendship where you’ve known them for more than 10 years and you are like siblings. Still, I took note of this for a few reasons. First, K knows that A struggled heavily with anorexia, wouldn’t she stop to think that might be insensitive to someone who has dealt with an eating disorder? I feel like this would be common sense. Second, I myself struggle with an eating disorder, and she knew that, The comment unintentionally made ME feel shitty and triggered.
K spent a lot of this day speaking badly and gossiping about another one of our nursing classmates named . I found this to be a red flag because despite anything M has ever done, I didn’t think it warranted this amount of vitriol towards another woman. I also found it hypocritical because in this same conversation, K was touting about how she is a “girls girl” while M is a “pickme,” whilst ironically, K is putting down another woman instead of offering any sympathy, understanding, or forgiveness. M has never shown herself to me to be a racist, prejudiced, or fatphobic person, traits of which I’d deem way worse morally than something as simple as “she copied my Linkedin profile” or “she wore my clothes and stretched them out.” (this comment btw seemed like a convenient excuse to fatshame M.) Albeit, I don’t know M very well and I can’t say these things for a fact. Yes, M's behavior in those aspects are problematic but why dump out all that business onto me, someone who doesn’t know her and can’t hear both sides? It is another example of someone who has nothing better to do with her life, and no other interests, besides talking about people’s business and making herself feel superior.
The play...
During the car ride to see a play, K makes comments about how Governor Newsom will help “eradicate” all the homeless people. Again, why so much emphasis on erasing the lives of human beings who happen to not have a place to live? How dare they exist in your vicinity, right? You, in your cozy fucking suburban upper middle class home in the epitome of Fremont suburbia. I don’t think any patient would want her as their nurse if they knew this, unless said patient was a Trump supporter or Nazi (K, with no self awareness, hates Trumpies when meanwhile she acts like one). Again, silence from A.
Took lots of pics at the play and at the Hotel. Took note that K posted no photos that contained me or my friend C there despite us being in group pics. but only posted pics of herself and A, as if we weren’t there. Only posted unflattering photo of me on close friends without my permission (another example of jabs towards me which she has done multiple times, I will dive into later).
When we went to get cocktails, apparently the ethnicity of my boyfriend is this huge fucking deal to them, and I knew that K would immediately say the most disgusting racist thing in her puny brain since hate is all she can thrive off of. I mentioned my boyfriend, and not even his race or anything, but A jumps to immediately tell K hE’s iNdIAn BtW and K yells “OMG STINKY INDIAN MAN!!!” and starts making extremely racist and degrading comments about green card marriage, visas, etc. A is obviously trying to save safe at this point by exclaiming to K that he’s actually perfect for me and good and stuff but at it’s past the point of return. I would have actually appreciated it if A had stood up against her close friend she’s known for 10+ years to tell her that it’s not ok to say that to any human being, let alone a friend. At this point I'm in shock and disbelief but I have no idea what to say, I feel anguished and traumatized. I try to brush it off and act like everything is ok, and that it’s totally understandable that she would say that bc India as a country does have issues and whatever, but it’s not ok, nothing about that was ok. everything else after that is a blur and I bottle my emotions up to have fun.
An occurrence after I drop off C, an extreme sign of how horrible K made me feel: I drop C off home, and I’m still so deeply stressed and angered by K outright and unabashed racism that I have to park at a nearby elementary school at 11 PM at night and scream, cry, call my boyfriend and tell him everything, the sense of powerlessness, the outright normalization of racism and prejudice against colored people, and the proud arrogance of people like her who lives in their suburbs ignorant of the centuries of oppression and genocide that my partner’s ancestors had to face due the exact line of thinking that K proudly projects out into the world. During this phone call, I became deeply aware of a few things:
K and people like her, act in this way in order to appeal to and become more like the oppressor. In other words, she deep downs wishes that she were white. It made so much sense to me given her views and the way she dresses. She hates herself and projects it onto everything else.
K and A are extremely immature people who for some reason think it's ok to say that around me, which made me reflect on my own behavior and why I have decided to put up with this for so long. I realized I deserve so much better and that I did absolutely nothing wrong
I look back on this night and realize the pain I was feeling was proof of my own humanity, empathy, compassion for people, and soul. I look back and happy that I felt these things so deeply. I would have rather felt that pain than live in the ignorant bliss K lives in. Nothing can take that away from me.
Our last hangout, the last straw, and hopefully the last time I will ever see her again.
I go to a mutual friend's birthday party and she happens to be invited there as well since they are both nurses. Despite my building resentment for K, I still try to play it safe and get along with her, again giving her the benefit of the doubt. We're trying to drink and have shots and right in front of my face, she tells her friend who I just met that "she has a problem with alcohol if you know what I mean" Proudly spreading my personal business to someone I barely even know. It hurt. I don't even struggle with alcoholism at all anymore and am doing so much better yet she continues to bring this up to use against me or humiliate me in front of others. This brought back to me all the little comments and negs she's said towards me: about my eating disorder, about me being "weak", about my taste in fashion, my looks, my "smell". Just extremely rude and bullying behavior when all I've ever done was be kind and understanding to her. I have no idea what I ever did to deserve this and the only thing I can think of is either she is envious of me for some reason or again, thrives and feels better off of hurting others and feeling superior.
I realize after all this that I give people the benefit of the doubt so much and refused to believe she was this bad. I realized that it was due to fear. I was scared of her, scared of what she'd say about me if I dared contradict her, since clearly she doesn't hesitate to talk horribly of others and gossip about them. She reminded me so much of my abusive parent, like having to walk around eggshells constantly. She has a very strong narcissistic personality. I realized that bullies like her thrive off of fear and only surround themselves with people who are as shitty as them and enable them. Yeah she's "popular" but with whom, which crowd? Not good people, and certainly not people who care about humanity and have empathy. I decided to take back my power and realize what she says doesn't even matter when she doesn't truly know me. Writing all this made me realize how much I actually have and how much I could use against her if I ever had to, and there's nothing much she could say against me besides "alcohol use" and my eating disorder, both of which I think any sane human would just be concerned for me instead of using it to mock me. I have blocked her and A everywhere, want nothing to do with them, and I don't care about whatever they have to say to me. I'd rather ghost you than be a racist bigot like you. I'd rather be an "alcoholic" as you say than be a cruel, mean and miserable bully. You wanna know the most ironic thing? This person says she has a close relationship with God and tries to be a better person. What a fucking joke. Also, aren't nurses supposed to have empathy for people who are struggling? This person is the most judgmental and miserable piece of shit I've ever encountered, and that says a lot
Lastly, if you are the person in question and reading this, all you do is hurt the people around you, and despite how much you attempt to alleviate your guilt through going to church and "be close to God" you are the complete opposite of what God represents. How about try and actually be a good person instead of attempting to cosplay as one through "seeking God"? It must truly suck to carry so much hate, pure projection of immense self-hatred. I feel sorry for you, honestly. I don't fuck with bigots and racists and you're probably happy I gained a spine and quietly removed myself from your life since you couldn't stand me for some reason (evident by your frequent jabs and bullying comments towards me). I still think your friend A has some hope of being a decent human being, its a shame she surrounds herself with bitter hateful bigots like yourself. It's honestly embarassing to carry the views you have in the year 2025, and even more embarassing that you chose such an honorable and empathetic profession despite being the most uncompassionate and prejudiced person in every radius possible. You are just like your Trumpie mom you can't stand. Shameful.
Also, your so-called "altruism" by being involved in the nursing clubs and giving to the homeless was all a performative moral facade for you to appear like a good person. I know what kind of person you really are: the first thing you do when we arrive in SF is making jokes about shooting and murdering all the homeless people and children. And you and A genuinely find that funny. Extremely pathetic, disgusting, and weird behavior. It's not just the overt bigotry, but the complete lack of social awareness or intelligence to feel it's acceptable and admirable to say that out loud to someone you're hanging out with for the first time outside of school (who btw is giving you a free ride). K and A often say the R word when describing others, when to be honest, it mostly describes themselves in actuality. Most bigots keep their offensive thoughts a secret. Only someone as backwards and dumb as K could make her racism and cruelty so overt to everyone around her. It's no surprise for me to find out that a lot of people actually dislike her despite her appearing "popular". It's all a facade. And every single person who is still friends with her either has no spine, or is equally as shitty as her. Remember friends: "A friend to all is a friend to none." My biggest mistake was making this person think it was ok to say those things around me due to my own spinelessness.
I am doing so much better and am much happier now that I have dropped K and A from my life. I no longer have to worry about walking on eggshells around someone, in fear that a hurtful comment will be thrust towards me for no reason, with A either egging it on, partaking in it, or enabling it. I distinctly remember going to a bar with A, and she warned me that K is extremely mean, the type of mean where she will make fun of an overweight person who passes by her, or someone who she deems as "ugly" in her view. This is the absolute opposite of anything I want to represent or be around in my life. How miserable one must be to find "fun" and entertainment in putting people down constantly. Must be fucking exhausting to live with herself. Ironically, A touted about how she reads James Baldwin and the African American Diaspora, all while being best friends with the most racist and bigoted person I have ever met. Her intellectual interests? A farce. It's so nice to not be around racist bigots and insecure self-hating bullies with unresolved trauma they project onto everyone else!
Writing this has added a lot of clarity to the complicated emotions I was going through while being friends with K and A. None of my reaction was “too sensitive,” dramatic, or imagined, despite how they would likely chalk it up as such. I was repeatedly exposed to cruelty, racism, boundary violations, and humiliation, and I noticed how it was eroding my sense of self. Such awareness is not weakness, but discernment. Over and over, I was overridden. My intuition knew how horrible and wrong they were being: my shock, my silence, my dissociation, the later emotional release (crying, shaking, needing to scream). These are responses to being morally and emotionally violated without realizing it in the moment, especially when I felt outnumbered and felt unsafe pushing back (K retaliates very often and easily. Her ego is extremely fragile). It doesn't mean I lacked a spine or anything, looking back on it. I was too hard on myself. It was my nervous system trying to keep me safe. Most of all, what disturbed me wasn't just bigotry, but the complete normalization and acceptance of it. The jokes, the casualness, the lack of shame, the way A enabled it and found it funny despite reading books about racism and bigotry. I can tolerate disagreement but what scrambled me was witnessing cruelty being treated as entertainment or bonding. Essentially, I was watching empathy get hollowed out right in front of me. This violated my dignity as a person who actually feels deeply. I also realized K targeted me because I was open and vulnerable, as I usually am towards people I consider a friend. Yes I am an open person, and people like her have used that to take advantage of me. I shared vulnerabilities about myself to her in good faith. K weaponized them. It’s not about me being “weak”, despite how often she would call me that. She is just someone who absolutely needs power to gain leverage over others. The fact that those are the only things she could use against me actually says more about my integrity than hers. It actually took enormous strength and humanity for me to still hold empathy, kindness, and patience towards someone who has mostly caused harm on my conscience. I even bought her a perfume she always wanted for her birthday. Being insulted nonchalantly and casually inside her car while her and A would laugh was all I'd get in return (not that I was expecting anything in return, but I do expect basic respect which is the bare minimum for friendships).
My mourning: I had grief for who I hoped K and A could be, especially A, since me and A had a lot of other things in common, but ultimately finding out who she really was disappointed me severely. I won't go too much into A, but she ended up being extremely male-centered, prejudiced, and bigoted herself, to her own detriment and mental health. I thought because we had so many literary interests in common, that she would have been a better person. But I felt used by her, with my interest in our friendship feeling completely unreciprocated: me offering her rides all the time and never getting gas money, inviting her to so many events that she liked, sharing my vulnerabilities with her, me wanting to be a good friend for her, but her rarely ever reciprocating. She seemed to have more fun with her creepy 50 year old coke addict male friends who sexualized her than a girl like me. I just wanted more female friends. I wanted community, safety, true friendship. I think she wanted novelty, a risky lifestyle, and to feel special and admired (mostly by older men). These things are not compatible with who I am, as I am deeply wary of ever getting myself into dangerous situations as a woman (Again, not because I am weak or boring, but because I am deeply aware of how these scenarios end up). I'm grieving the disillusionment I felt. Cutting both of these people off was my biggest act of self-respect. It wasn't avoidance, nor spinelessness. I never stormed out or retaliated, nor did I become like them. I withdrew access. I don’t actually need to prove that K is evil, hypocritical, or miserable (even if she is). The pain she inflicted on me and others was enough to justify leaving. The core truth is that I know who I am, and who I never want to become. Everything else is just evidence.
so I was thinking about my previous post where I proclaimed myself as a "city girl" and my love for walking as long as it involves a lot of window shopping. there is a deep lonely sadness about shopping malls that appeals to me greatly. I have often made jokes about how america is a giant consumerist shopping mall but I sort of love it now. I used to hate shopping malls and would get completely overstimulated and exhausted going to valley fair. not just overstimulated by the vast amount of smells, people, and stimuli thrown in my vicinity, but the endless bourgeois advertisements and instagram-friendly medicore boba shops and overpriced restaurants. I have found a way to embrace the shopping mall that completely transcends the average shopping experience. you have to immerse yourself into the advertisement-spectacle and imagine as if you are in some metaphysical realm that encapsulates the mall as a constellation of forces. a constellation of human bodies wandering, consuming, drifting, architectural channels that guide or capture movement, corporate brands exerting affective pulls, forming a functioning machine of desire. through each step of the malls corridors, through the food court and up the escalator, past another "Coming 2026" sign for another mediocre gimmicky shop, feel the flows of pure capital (transactions, credit, data) as you pass through each storefront. you must feel the desire that emanates from displays, mannequins, advertisements. people-watch: look at all the other bodies circulating along escalators, corridors, food courts. observe the way the mall redirects and intensifies the human body to accumulate into consumption.
last month, I walked into an Aritzia for the first time in my life. I laid my hand on their famous slouch coat and found myself in a micro-machine (artizia) wired inside a larger machine (valley fair). I felt my mood being affectively modulated by the purposeful combination of lighting + scent + music + product displays. the checkout counter was a "point of capture" that I tried my best to avoid (it scared me). I had become a component plugged into the machine: my gaze, my movement, my attention, my credit card all becomining machinic parts interacting with the mall’s circuitry. I feel that valley fair is particularly special compared to other shopping malls in my area in its ability to make me enter a dreamlike consumerist state. great mall and eastridge barely fool me, the clothing and ads feel so cheap or outdated that it feels more like a mockery of a mall than a real one. valley fair instead creates particular subjectivities the way a garden creates flowers. valley fair doesn't tell me who to be, but it instead saturates me with possible becomings. what I mean by this is that the moment I enter the mall, I have left ordinary life to enter a climate-controlled, timeless interior. my identity dissolves, and I then re-attach to new identities through "possible becomings": “i wear this,” “i look like that,” “i belong to this lifestyle.” each purchase reterritorializes me into a coded consumer position. I feel this strongly when I shop at a sephora or a nordstrom. I can physically feel the modern space of the mall modulating my behavior softly but continuously. it is continuous but not necessarily oppressive. more like an ambient form of control that is mild, seductive, and omnipresent. the exception to this is the stores bloomingdale's and byredo. I have stepped into bloomingdale's probably a maximum of 3 times, and byredo only once. the control that these micro-machines attempt to thrust onto me is less ambient and more forceful, making it dreadful and alien-like, and I feel so surveillanced in there as if a giant camera were following me from the ceiling.
oh, I also want to give a shoutout to the Ala Moana center in honolulu. that place gives me exactly the feeling I described above except x100 compared to valley fair in an exhilirating way. that time I had walked through there, downing a pina colada smoothie, wearing a bunch of testers from sephora, it literally made me feel high. I felt like I was in a reality that the 2000's frutiger aero era had envisioned the future looking like. especially when I walked outside into a cool summer breeze next to the beach surrounded by skyscrapers. THAT is what I mean for my love of the city and of window shopping. I fucking love hawaii so much, I wish I could live there. I am aware that this part will come off as a privileged and ignorant because hawaii has completely been destroyed by tourists like me to steal land in order to create said shopping malls for tourists. I would love to go on a solo trip to hawaii next year and experience things I could not do because of my family's presence: tiki bars and clubs of waikiki, a day spent at a spa, a luau feast, hawaiian punk shows, more time spent at museums, antique shopping, etc. a perfectly curated hawaiian trip just for myself.
I would LOVE to start studying the architecture of modern shopping malls. in what ways shops and mall corridors act as "organs" for this massive organism? are the shoppers cells? food courts as a metaphor for mitochandria? can we envision a mall as a metaphor for a live being? I want to curate, like, an autistic obsession with really nice shopping malls. I feel like my fascination with shopping malls is that they make me feel so nostalgic. I spent much of my teen years hanging out at santana row and valley fair during its developing years, before it became the corporate tourist behemoth it now is. when I was a child, shopping malls, even a mediocre one like eastridge, felt to me like a vast and huge space of magnificence. my child brain was already envisioning future-becomings and possibilities within the mall without realizing it.
path 1 I described below isn't necessarily pretentious. you can have certain interests and still not be pretentious. it's when you start looking down on others for having different interests than you that you start veering into pretention. or moreso when you view yourself as superior to others for having certain tastes or interests. I will give an example:
superiority posturing over music tastes, interests, hobbies: you are no better than anyone just because you listen to some sort of avant-garde russian hypnogagic glitch wave and not taylor swift or EDM. we are all human. instead seek to deconstruct and critique what the celebrity or genre symbolizes whether that be unfairly distributed wealth and power, faux-feminism as a distraction, gentrification, colonization, or straight up fascism. I will absolutely no longer tolerate any pretentious superiority posturing in myself even when so many communities I was immersed in embrace this exact line of thinking (e.g. rateyourmusic.com, last.fm, /mu/). I do not want to put ANYONE down just because their tastes are considered "low-brow" or "mainstream." you wanna know why? I have met many people with these exact tastes who I genuinely enjoyed being around and were good people! who cares if it's "basic"? I cannot dehumanize others or view others beneath me over that! i'm absolutely sick of this urge to view others as basic over music taste. music taste is a poor contender of character. that person who listens to some obscure genre could be the most insufferable, egotistical person you've met, whilst the ed sheeran listener is genuinely fun to be around . . . in other words, I want to be an anti-elitist now. I do not want to treat mainstream tastes as inferior. not even watching stuff like love island (again, all too easy for it to fall into internalized misogyny since women tend to primarily consume this media). I absolutely cannot stand pseudo-intellectualism anymore or wanting to LARP as some tortured artist type when that isn't even being authentic to oneself, but moreso treating certain media as an aesthetic choice. e.g. pretending to understand and enjoy kafka to fit into a certain aesthetic, rather than genuine interest in the literature. treating mainstream tastes as inferior is often just misogyny, classism, or insecurity in disguise. and i've noticed that elitist spaces often encourage performance over authenticity. have you ever seen one of those tiktok videos of college students dressed in dark academia at some bookstore or cafe holding philosophy books and smoking cigarettes while drinking a black coffee? yeah this is the exact archetype of person I want to avoid and want to avoid being. I will stick with the "basic" people who at least don't pretend to be someone they are not.
I AM COMPLETELY DONE WITH MUSIC ELITISM, PSEUDO-INTELLECTUALISM, DARK-ACADEMIA POSTURING, AND THE KIND OF "TASTE AS IDENTITY" BULLSHIT THAT DISGUISES CLASSISM AND MISOGNYNY. pic related:
girl 1 (the introvert, thinker): has a membership at the Rosicrucian Egyptian Museum, reads 52 books a year, has memberships to museums, attends avant-garde shows and events, listens to obscure music, long hair and baby bangs, ghostly white nightgowns and days spent reading in bed, anti-social, near hikkikomori, devours novels and films, obsessed with sardines, nearly ascetic (except for spending money on depop clothes), watches arthouse films on big screens, has a mubi subscription, pirates video games and rare films, kindle runs out of storage, has a massive zine collection, voluntarily friendless. lowkey insufferable in the perfect ways
girl 2 (the intuitive, sensor): watches comedians, goes out to bars and shows, has a lot of friends, understands finances, goes out of town weekly or bi-weekly, works in sf, likes action and drama films, dislikes slow philosophical films, travels in the summer, listens to drum n bass and deep house nearly nonstop, watches drag race or fashion shows, drinks matcha, views life as a game, does not take life seriously, partakes in recreational activities, gyms
it's not what you would think. the worst thing I have ever smelled was not in healthcare. it was someone's breath on a deliriously drunk night in downtown san jose. we spent like an hour getting drunk at habderdasher, downing irish whiskeys and having electic discussions about cormac mccarthy, pornography, feminism, violence, and blood meridian. the table next to use seemed boring and one of the patrons there was staring at our table in awe and envy at how fascinating and passionately loud our discussions were while their table was dry and boring. we went to mini boss wearing our lolita dresses and got even more drunk, downing colorful cocktails until a group of boys resembling farmers or cowboys tried to woo us. we joined their group to get free drinks but they ended up being so rowdy and we got too drunk I could barely remember things. here's a snapshot of what I last remembered:
1) mexican cowboy bought me a hot dog that I later threw up on the dancefloor at labyrinth
2) he also bought me a single rose on the streets of downtown sj and I remember finding it so romantic and sweet. I was drunk. but to be fair, he was sweet for downtown sj at night standards.
3) at labyrinth me and my friend kept getting seperated and I eventually threw up uncontrollably at labyrinth, getting us all kicked out, while cowboy tried his best to help me and make sure I was okay. I felt so embarassed. his friends were hitting on my friend, I knew she wasn't interested in them and wanted to use them for drinks like I was. but it was bad idea overall. men get so rowdy when they are drunk
4) I remember despite how sweet he was, how absolutely blood-curdlingly rancid his breath had smelled. the only way I could describe it was: moldy bread with a saccarine keto-sweetness to it, with a hint of either gangrene, cancer, or tooth decay. looking back and with the knowledge I have now: I believe I smelled a rare form of cancer on him without him even knowing it. if I could go back in time, I would have asked him if he has some sort of health problem, not to be nosy, but to gather health information and recommend he see a doctor asap.
5) when I was finally home, his breath stench had stuck onto me, onto my hair, onto my literal nostril hair. his smell lingered. it was like a ghost haunting me. it was so bad. mixed with the smell of vomit. it ruined the perfume delina for me, as my friend had been wearing that and it was so strong, and only amplified the saccarine sweetness of the rotting teeth.
6) I remember being so bothered by how his breath smelled that I genuinely was concerned for his health. his other friends were a bunch of rowdy fuckboys. he texted me later saying they all got kicked out from all the other bars. I ghosted him. as anyone usually does for some stranger they met on a night out partying.
genuinely I regret every single time I overshare with someone. I feel like it comes from an urge to feel more open with someone or forge a friendship but it genuinely feels like forced authenticity when I overshare for the sake of keeping a conversation going. you know what I mean? by nature I am a very private person but still find myself spilling out secrets or honest/controversial thoughts when a conversation is going nowhere. oversharing to forge chemistry with someone you just don't have conversational chemistry with. it shouldn't have to be that way. you shouldn't have to overshare with someone just to feel closer. and I end up feeling less close to someone when I overshare without being comfortable with it. this usually happens when i'm in conversations where the other party is quiet and I feel like I have to be the more "extroverted" one and carry the conversation even though that doesn't feel natural to who I am. the other person's lack of ability to socialize or put in equal effort into the conversations just makes me feel awkward and I end up attempting to fill the gaps. it's one of my bad habits because I feel intense discomfort by silence sometimes. you can't just trust everyone with your private life and thoughts like that.
but then I switch back and forth between that mode of thinking, and this mode of thinking: "who gives a fuck? be authentic and share whatever about yourself!! oversharing is fun1! stop caring!!" and I flip flop between the former and the ladder. I fucking hate social rules
I feel like the only bay area person who is not into hiking. I have been asked so many times by people if I want to go hiking and I never end up going through with it. I find it difficult to hold a conversation while hiking. hiking overstimulates me: my stomach gets bloated due to blood flow, my hands and feet get swollen due to blood flow (I absolutely hate the feeling), I feel like I stink like dirt afterwards, my hair gets all greasy and sweaty, I hate feeling sweaty, I don't like feeling out of breath, and I legitmately get chest pain, stomach cramps, heartburn sometimes from hiking... I also hate how I look in athleisure or work-out clothing. call me unfit or whatever. on second thought, I think i'd be open to hiking again just because writing this post makes me feel so painfully out of shape and lazy.
my version of hiking is walking 20k steps throughout a city. I did so in hawaii, walking miles and miles effortlessly in platform flip flips throughout waikiki just to visit bookstores, thrift and antique shops, museums, beaches, and shopping malls and plazas. I feel like I was built to be a city girl. I can barely walk a mile on a hiking trail but put me in a new city and I will genuinely walk across the entire city without getting the same symptoms I get on a hike in nature. I like spending time in nature when it's for a charcuterie picnic and laying in the grass and taking photos.
I haven't gone camping since my last camping trip in lake tahoe. I did not care for the mountains or trails, but moreso walking across the town to visit shops, gardens, bookstores, and mysterious dead ends I could take photos in. I still love yosemite too but not to hike but to take photos and read in nature by a lake. idc.
i wonder if anyone else finds it oddly intimate to answer such a question as "what is your favorite song?". sharing music tastes feels so highly personal to me. I finally know what my favorite song is, and I think that people who know me personally would be surprised by my choice, but it is unsurprising to me since i've developed a deep fondness for neofolk music ever since I discovered death in june, current 93, and swans. my favorite song officially is The Herald by Comus throughout the past 2 and a half decades of my life i've always ended up choosing "long" songs as my favorite, with MGMT's Siberian Breaks being my favorite song as a teen (a 12 minute song). The Herald is such an unbelievably beautiful and haunting gem. when I listen to it I feel as if I am taken on a mysterious journey each time, re-emerging anew as some beautiful ghostly woman stepping on forest branches barefoot as I run towards the full moon in search of an ecstatic embrace. it's the perfect balance of haunting and beautiful. I fucking love Comus. I discovered this song on a neofolk reddit thread. I also love the album art, it reminds me of the babadook.
as a single star glides swiftly down the night a soft wetting note issues from the time-worn flute frowning slightly the herald listens wistful across the night and from way back behind the day comes the echoed answer the day advances oh so softly his shadow lengthens and his voice is mute but clear his flute and sadly walks forward followed by the day herald of morning walks across the earth eternally
and somewhere in the black distance another herald puts down his flute and the dewy dawn creeps on and the night withdraws
the day advances oh so softly his shadow lengthens and his voice is mute but clear his flute and sadly walks forward followed by the day Herald of morning walks across the earth eternally
my second contender for favorite song would be Amarillo by Love Spirals Downwards. Love Spirals Downwards is obviously my favorite band of all time next to Cocteau Twins, and I tend to cycle through which song of theirs is my favorite for the whole month. first it was By Your Side, then it was Will You Fade, and then Alicia (1999 Remix), and countless others. Amarillo is a more simple song, with a soft repetitive melody that slowly warps into an ethereal echo of heaven. it grew on me and it's now one of the most beautiful songs to have ever graced my ears. I always overlooked love spirals downwards instrumental tracks but I find myself seeking out these tracks more and more, specifically songs on the album Ever such as Ipomoea, Ananda, and Cay at Dawn. anyways, Amarillo is gentle and hypnotic with whirrling synths and a lulling acoustic guitar that makes me feel simultatenously somber, lonely, yet ethereal, blissful, and angelic. I can see myself covered in silky white garments in some sort of eternal slumber or dreamlike limbo inside a midcentury style french princess bed covered in layers of fleece blankets as the sun sets and I am all alone inside my castle, away from every worry in the world.
whenever someone is overtly abrasive, rude, violent, or passive aggressive towards me, i've started convincing myself that that person likely has had a difficult childhood, was abused or SA'd as a child, and/or is a victim of adverse childhood experiences and might even have PTSD, anxiety, clinical depression, etc. that person was once an innocent child who learned the harsh realities of life and this is their way of coping: by oppressing others as an oppressed person themselves. to gain dominance and control after having no control their life. our experiences as children have a profound impact on us as adults. if someone is harsh or a bully towards me, I remind myself that someone who is genuinely happy with themselves and their life would never do that. meaning, they are likely deeply unhappy within themselves, and likely have been through some hardship in the past, or even currently, that causes them to project into the world. e.g. someone who is abusing others could currently be in an abusive relationship themselves and this is their way of regaining a sense of power and control, while at home they are constantly oppressed. someone could be going through addiction or withdrawals and is having a battle within themselves over it. maybe someone was so used to facing abuse themselves that their way of protecting themselves is through being harsh towards others. also, there is learned behavior if they learned growing up that it's okay and acceptable in their household to belittle others.
I once had a former friend like this. she would always make passive aggressive jabs and negs at me that I later realized was straight up bullying, especially when she would use my struggles against me and to mock me in front of others. she would make cruel remarks to me such as me being "weak" or having a certain "smell". she and her friend would make me feel excluded and I realized it was all on purpose. she would constantly be racist and prejudiced against homeless people as well. meanwhile, she came from an oppressive household with a domineering mother, who constantly pressured her to be an over-achiever. she had severe anxiety and would spiral a lot, and it made sense given the tiger parenting she was force fed. her treating me and others as such was a reflection of her own inner battles and trauma that she refused to face within herself.
I start to have compassion and empathy for people who do me wrong when I realize they were likely a victim of something horrible, because it's way more common than you might think. and i'm not saying that trauma is an excuse or anything. just that not everything is about me. there are a lot of people who are horrible and you later find out they had a horrible life and upbringing, and you just feel sorry for them and hope they get better. domestic abuse, emotional abuse, physical abuse, abandonment, emotional neglect, SA, CSAM, COCSA, addiction, grief, trauma, ptsd, depression, is way more common than it looks. even in people who seem relatively normal. a lot of people's behaviors make so much more sense when you frame it into this perspective. one thing I must understand is that seeing the brokenness in others doesn’t mean I have to carry it.
i'm near nauseated at couples who make their relationship their image and basically revolve their life around their partner. and it's almost never the man. it turns into a couples page ran by the gf, or worse, a fanpage of her boyfriend. hundreds of stories and posts of her boyfriend, and then barely one post of her on his page. and a lot of times they're unhappy in the relationship and/or the guy is cheating the whole time. I view it as over-compensating. do you not have a sense of self outside of your partner? I take a lot of pride in decentering myself from men and retaining my sense of individuality while in a relationship and being in love with someone. I want my relationship to be the least interesting thing about me. I am a whole person first and foremost, my partner doesn't define my worth, my relationship is not my personality, and I will never revolve myself around someone like a planet. "i" should not be "we", and I get uncomfortable seeing women partake in self-erasure. relationships aren't personality filler, and shouldn't need public validation to feel secure. I value autonomy a lot. I feel like society is not used to women doing that. people often mock and make caricatures of women who value autonomy, hence the whole "i am an independent woman who dont need no man" / "cat lady" memes that makes fun of women who don't center men when historically, for much of society, women were forced rely on men their whole lives. extremely strange world.
I always seek to deconstruct the "in-between" within certain dynamics.
it bothers me greatly how so many items branded has having "leather material" are so vague about said leather. what kind of leather? lamb? calf? "genuine leather" is so vague that it almost seems like a convenient excuse to label something that is the lowest grade quality of leather as "leather" in order to fool the masses into thinking it's of any decent quality. I refuse to buy leather boots from any shopping mall anymore as 99% of the time it is faux leather or shit quality genuine leather marked up to $200+. I will only purchase VINTAGE leather boots either made in the USA, Europe or made in Mexico. you can guarantee that any "leather" shoe or jacket that is made in china is complete garbage. at the vintage boutique the other day, there were so many leather jackets that felt like real leather yet didn't have a single label describing the specifics of the leather at all. it's so frustrating and difficult to find decent quality clothing in this day and age. my best luck has been ebay and searching diligently through thrift shops.
I really don't have empathy for people who choose to drunk drive or end up with a DUI. it's one of the most wreckless, selfish, and stupid things you can do. I think it says a lot about a person. even when I am near-blackout drunk I still retain the deep awareness to never drive. driving while drunk is still a conscious decision. I had a classmate in nursing school who had multiple DUI's. I felt disgust towards them. I refuse to force empathy for things that violate my moral baseline.
santal 33 ruined the rest of perfumes for me. le labo's santal 33 is so good that no other perfume can compare. I feel so lucky to be one of those people who can appreciate its artistry. I don't smell pickles from it no matter how hard I try to. it's so good it's scary. I love polarizing scents.
for black friday, I was planning to go to valley fair but instead I took a trip to SF to do some shopping when I realized the lines and traffic at valley fair would be too long and send me into an internalized rage. I made the right choice because there turned out to be a shooting there that day. anyways, the first thing I did was step into ministry of scent where I bought a full bottle of dirty flower factory by kerosene, along with 3 complimentary samples of unknown pleasures, follow, and little secret by imaginary authors. I bought some baudelaire books from dog-eared bookstore, and I bought my very first taxidermy piece at paxton gate! I bought this one of a kind woodland fairy mouse made by classic mouse parade. i'm still coming up with a name. I also bought a velvet jacket and an olive silk cotton fairy skirt from afterlife collective, a lovely curated vintage shop that surprisingly had a lot of high quality knitwear and leather jackets for a decent price. there were a couple of drunk girls at the shop trying to flirt with and get attention from the cashier and it made me cringe really bad and it was sorta disturbing the peace I was having while shopping. they also brought their dog into the shop, who barked constantly and it was scary. god, I cannot stand the obnoxious dog culture in SF.
I wore my piano jsk and a wig I accidentally bought in a lighter shade of brown than I intended:
my ssri medication has enabled me to reach a state of near-asexuality, enabling me to transcend myself. I have been on ssri's since 2022(?).
the usage of psychedelic mushrooms in the context of raves and large festivals is spiritually Israeli and spiritually colonial. especially given the history of the usage of psychedelic mushrooms in indigenous cultures, primarily, in indigenous Mexican cultures. they were used as a spiritual sacrament until it was popularized whenever Americans and Europeans started traveling to these areas and brought these substances over to their home countries without the consent of the indigenous cultures there. and then popularizing this as a party drug, completely divorcing it from the respect and the sacramental aspects of engaging with these substances. and now you wonder why you got people going to raves like “i took so many mushrooms and I had an ego death and I threw up and I threw up everywhere” and you fucking wonder why you have these kinds of reactions. you're engaging with something that needs respect, but you don't give it. you don't give it the respect it deserves. that's all.
I hate how no matter what you do as a woman, some aspect of you will always be objectified or sexualized by some man. a woman could literally just *exist* and men would still find a way to somehow sexualize it. I wish I could disappear from men's eyes or turn myself invisible somehow at will.
I get uncomfortable when people ask me if I want kids one day or if i'm planning to. it has always felt like an invasive question to me but I know it is super normalized to talk about your kids, having kids, etc. I know i'm the strange one here. anyways, I don't know what to say to the question. the truth is that I never, ever, want children, and that is absolutely final. but being a young woman who does not want children is a taboo thing in our society and I know it'll only be met with: "you'll change your mind when you get older," or vague passive-aggressive jabs. so I don't even bother anymore. I just tell people something vague like: "yeah one day" because it's easier than trying to explain myself and my spiritual beliefs on birth, and why our society is actually collapsing under capitalism and I do not want my children to suffer. I think that being a mom would turn me insane. as in, my maternal emotions would feel so strong it would drive me mad. I learned quickly that I could never work in L&D or NICU as it leads me into a sort of neuroticism as I obsess over the primoridal womb, over the trauma of birth, how women are the closest thing to the divine (in my honest opinion) due to our ability to create life, and how men don't even deserve us. I have a profound respect for birth. during my OB rotation in nursing school, I was reading simone de beauvoir's the second sex and that had a huge influence on my spiritual awe and reverence of birth.the concept of birth touches so close to the spiritual, ancient mysteries and myths that it drives me into a neurotic state. the first time I witnessed a c-section as a nursing student, I was left in tears at what I had witnessed because it felt so spiritual to me. I could not stop reading Otto Rank's The Trauma of Birth, highlighting every passage, and getting chills down my spine. sorry to be dramatic. I view birth and life as something deeply sacred to the point that it terrifies me. I wouldn't say i'm an anti-natalist. my horror of having children doesn't stem from a political viewpoint but more of a mystical one. kind of like how I am scared to ever try psychedelics. it's something that I feel I will never be ready for. I also have a deep fear of the ways my body will mutate and change during pregnancy and all the risks associated with it. I like having control over my body. I feel like not many people would understand where i'm coming from. I would just come off as strange and/or crazy because I feel like people don't think this deeply into it nor care to, which is perfectly fine. I feel like a lot of my true thoughts in general would come off as schizo, which is why I prefer keeping to myself. maybe that's why concepts of birth and death feel so personal to me.
humans are infinitely complex, and I’ve often found myself hurt by people who either projected their own insecurities onto me or treated me without dignity or consideration. I adore and respect people who are first and foremost considerate as I try my best to do the same for others. I don’t want to intrude myself into other people’s lives or thoughts nor create problems, as there are enough in this world. I try my best not to project my issues out into the world even at my lowest points.
the struggle is my desire and expectation that people will treat me with dignity and respect instead of treating me in ways to make themselves feel superior or authoritative over me. is it the way I look, the way I carry myself? *no*. I’ve realized it has nothing to do with me. It has everything to do with that person and their own inner battles, self denials, and traumas.
the hardest thing is having empathy and compassion for people who deliberately choose to hurt me or make themselves feel superior to me. to let it roll and slide off my back, completely stoic and unaffected. there have been people I trusted who only go on to backstab me and treat me like I am below them or incompetent. this has happened to me since childhood. stoicism is something I am learning to practice throughout my career and in my encounters with other adult human beings. I don’t think of it as not having a backbone, it’s having such a solid foundation of self worth that no one words or actions could make me feel less than. I can be strong, I am strong.
it’s also not about appearing tough or unbothered. it can be easy to pretend. I still want to remain true to myself and not build myself on lies. I still want to remain kind and empathetic even at the risk of it making me appear weak, fragile, or naive. if people perceive me that way, it is projection, and again has nothing to do with who I am, as people are only seeing one side of me.
the world has become so numb to atrocities, so alienated, so callous… the toxicities have leaked and seeped onto me. I realized all of that this year, as I was thrust into a completely new lifestyle I was ultimately ill-prepared for, and no one could prepare me for. It turned me so cynical, so nihilistic, that I contemplated death many times after reading conspiracy against the human race (I do not recommend this book especially for people who already struggle with nihilistic thoughts). but that doesn’t make me weak or anything. I feel things too deeply. I think too much. that’s a running theme of my life.
but it’s also a gift. as I feel the patterns enmeshed in everyday interactions with people, and I can *see* into someone’s psyche without really trying, and at times it makes me feel closer to them without them realizing, even if they have wronged me, because I see myself in them, a part of myself, or even my past self. If not, I feel sorry for them. people interest me so much. I have always found myself to be an outsider because of this. I often walk around the world feeling like an alien, but I’ve embraced it and been okay with it. it’s not that there’s anything particularly atrocious about myself. I am nothing special. but it’s always something I’ve known since I was born.
many nights like this: dreary, drained, and sucked dry from an exhausting one-way dialogue. conversations where I took the role of a friend-turned-therapist, a lending ear, a validation-machine, something to talk at, not convene with, and nothing more. one of these nights, I stepped out of her car and said my goodbyes out of pure obligation. a goodbye that was tinged with resentment and exhaustion, with a forced upper-inflection of a “goodbye!” where it feels painful to even utter it because your social battery is completely depleted to where you're running on fumes and it feels like a madness. I was exhausted, exhausted by her droning about her ex-boyfriend, tired of the same spirals, her needless obsessions with him, the same drama on repeat for years with no progress. there was nothing I could say to help, no matter how hard I tried to be there for her forever. and the resentment I felt at her trash-talking the people she’d be laughing with the next morning, not to mention all the ways she dumped her childhood trauma onto me, like a box she kept handing back to me every time I tried to set it down.
I gave up. I gave up on us. I gave up on her. I realized my self worth, I no longer wanted to feel used in friendships anymore.
I drove my truck into the night, not knowing where I was going. as long as I was far away from her, anything to feel myself centered once again. I parked in a pitch black park in some forested neighborhood made up of upper middle class tech yuppies in the backwoods of Los Gatos, dimly lit by moonlight and grey clouds.
stepping outside in the cold misty air, I smoked my navy blue american spirit while listening to city moon by love spirals downwards on my skullcandy headphones. i stared at the clouds in motion, drifting overhead ceaselessly in tune with God.
I pondered in the dark, staring at my warm breath evaporating in the cold air.
time… felt an inkling of myself again….
slowly centered, crawling into me again, until I gathered who I was again.
time…
Fully centered. splendid.
it was that night I knew I was never meant to have many friends. it was that night I found I could only handle socializing in small doses. the cold, purple, cloudy midnight sky… so beautiful, so crisp, eternal. surrounding me, in the dark, staring at the empty street and getting chills from the faint howl of a coyote in the distance, I felt at peace with myself. oneness. my solitude, my loneliness, my favorite thing in the world, so rich and vivid. the one thing that will never escape me, no matter how the external world forces me to change. it felt so nice to be away from everyone, addictive even. if I had the means, I would’ve disappeared altogether from everyone I knew.
11/12
last night I wrote 6 poems at 1 AM on a whim after having a spark of inspiration inside my food-messy bedroom. I have always wanted to create, create something, anything. for me it was this blog, so personal to me, but even then it lacks my most innermost reflections due to major privacy concerns and lurkers. the most important thing for me is inspiration. who inspires me? the band algebra suicide, Radiohead, gertrude stein, barbara kruger, jenny holzer, spoken poetry by lydia lunch, late nights under moonlight, gentle cigarette smoke, burning desire (not for someone, but for some thing), incongruity between the external world and the self, a moment of pure “noticing,” attention, awareness, elsa von freytag-loringhoven.
I must write at least one poem, short story, or non-fiction reflection a day. even if my writing sucks. I need some sort of creative outlet in order to survive
11/11
trying to be a kinder or more compassionate person is something you commit to every day and isn’t something that comes naturally for women and I’m tired of men pretending it is and that they aren’t capable of it. don’t waste your any of your time on men who treat empathy and emotional intelligence as some meaningless, woman-centric flaw. to be emotionally intelligent is one of the most important parts of being a human being and they will try to convince you otherwise and condescend you into the ground, but that changes nothing. there are all kinds of men that will mock you and pretend they are better than you because of how “rational” and “logical” they are but it’s a total farce. they aren’t emotionally intelligent but they are emotionally volatile and violent. dating a man who makes every excuse he can think of for why he doesn’t try to be a better person is like waiting around to be shot in both feet. value yourself more than that because you’re signing up for a life of emptiness, unfulfillment, and being belittled and devalued for your resolve.
10/29: LATERAL VIOLENCE
coming soon... notes: the term "lateral violence," franz fanon's "the wretched of the earth" and how oppressed people end up oppressing each other, internalized misogyny, woman-hatred, the hatred and stereotyping towards female-dominated careers and jobs, servitude,
10/7
Some people can look normal and even be popular in society and in their private lives they can be disgusting. You can't always tell.
my brain ~ 8/28
during certain periods of my life, my mind feels like a cursed thing. sometimes I overthink so hard that my thoughts start to have their own thoughts and I feel like I have multiple brains working at the same time. this happens the most when I am especially overstimulated by many things going on around me. being overstimulated by the world around me sometimes gives me a rush, because my brain goes into pure overdrive, pure immersing myself full-throttle into my surroundings, making me forget my own self-consciousness. or is this just normal and how most people think? except I am aware of the way my frontal cortex, hippocampus, amygdala, nerves and all working together? the amygdala being aware of my surroundings, of sounds, of smells, of the particular way others are around me so that I can gauge how to interact: wary for signs of threat and where safety is. subconsciously striving for homeostasis in any particular environment. my frontal cortex navigating complex situations and problem solving, interactions, coming up with the perfect responses to different scenarios I run into. the description of how my amygdala and reptilian brain navigate through life only remind me of states of meditation. when I meditate I take in all the sensory input around me and condense it into a sort of relaxed hypnosis or taoist state, where thoughts float away like water. I feel boundless. I feel infinite. my brain and nerves work ad-infitinum just so I can experience life. is that not the most miraculous thing?
there's no words to describe ~ 8/28
there's no words I can use to accurately describe what it feels like to have half of your mind still in touch with reality, at least enough to be somewhat self-aware that you are losing yourself, and the other half experiencing a full-fledged panic attack teetering on delusions and dreadful paranoia, fearful that others are out to hurt you and that seemingly small things are divine symbols and signs from God. I would say the closest description to this experience would be gilles deleuze and félix guattari's "Body Without Organs" (BWO):
there is a sort of disorganization of the ordinary structure of self. the feeling of panic verging on psychosis is both terrifying and involuntary, while the BWO is theorized as a philosophical/creative rupture.
intensity without form: the panic attacks are pure intensity, heart racing, sweating, terror. without a clear object. the BWO is described similarly: flows of energy without the usual organizing systems.
pattern overload/dissolution: in psychosis, pattern recognition overloads. everything connects to everything until meaning collapses. the BWO is also about undoing rigid connections to allow new ones.
ambivalence of freedom/terror: for deleuze & guattari, the BWO can be liberating or destructive. similarly, panic-psychosis feels like being annihilated (destructive), but also like touching some raw, unmediated reality. the feeling of touching another boundless reality no longer connected to social constructs and materiality is what terrified me, with the feeling of death and destruction leaving me off balance, unable to function in normal daily situations.
unmooring from the “self”: both experiences can involve losing the boundaries between self/world, inside/outside, control/uncontrol.
5/24/25
last night I dreamt I was sharing a cigarette with my friend K. it was hard not to resist. I have a feeling I might cave in soon after being smoke free for 5 months the second I go near an underground rave.
yesterday at work I encountered gangrene for the first time, and I performed wound care on it. the smell was so bad I felt like I was dying and imagery of death and necrosis and bodily fluids conjured up in my mind. I found it interesting, honestly. it made me think of world war I, or a Junji Ito book. when I got home, I decided to read voraciously about gangrene as if it was some horror novel. the human body is so fascinating and horrifying. I am going to start bringing a tiny bottle of peppermint oil to work. I had another patient eating her own feces and it brought back memories of working at a SNF before I started nursing school.
I haven't been reading any books lately, as I seem to have misplaced my kindle. i'm realizing I vastly prefer non-fiction over fiction but the tradeoff is that non-fiction is more difficult for me to digest and takes longer for me to read. I like the idea of being the type of girl who reads fiction books by kafka and dostoevsky, but naturally I gravitate more towards neitszche, simone de beauvoir, freude, and carl jung... I love love love existential philosophy and psychoanalysis.
i'm really excited to go to fanime tomorrow for the j-fashion / lolita event! i'm debating whether I should wear my Symphonia of Birds coord or my Dream Fantastic Balloon coord. I'm hoping to buy a few accessories + jewelry, attend the EGL fashion show, take lots of pics, and go to an underground rave after.
5/22/25
"you're too nice, you're too sweet"
my response: everything in our society is designed to destroy compassion and empathy because if you suddenly understood all the suffering in the world and your interconnectedness to it all, you'd fall to your knees and weep in the streets.
5/21/25
you said my stare was too intense. I stare because I want to see you, I want my pupils to be your nest. I want your pupils to be my nest. I want to crawl inside you so that you finally understand. so that we're not alone. so that you finally see me. my deepest need is to be seen, because I see everything
5/19/25 ~ my brain is a cursed thing
for the past 3 days, I have been unable to sleep for more than 5-6 hours. I haven't been able to fall asleep until 5-6 AM and I wake up at 11-12. sometimes I think so much, that my thoughts start to have thoughts and it becomes meta ad infinitum until reality starts to feel odd, startling, or dream-like. it makes it difficult to sleep. this used to happen when I worked at a nursing home full time and barely slept because of having to wake up at 5 am every morning (I am not a morning person). I started having nightmares about the residents and my interactions with the world didn't feel real. it was scary and eery, but strangely exciting and similar to a dissociative state. in actuality I was extremely sleep deprived, which usually causes my brain to wander off into a creative state at the expense of my attention to external stimuli. at one point, I hadn't slept for 2 days after a punk show, on top of going to work, and by nighttime I was having full-fledged hallucinations while staring at my wall, and I was hearing conversations as if I had schizophrenia. brain turned into mush, but I felt so intensely creative, although completely dysfunctional at that point.
anyhow, my mode of being has felt weird lately. my anti-anxiety meds have finally kicked in fully and I can function pretty well in daily living and social interactions now, and I finally feel like "myself" again, BUT I start to have weird fantastical feelings where even the most mundane moments feel dreamy. I think it stems from my generalized anxiety and neuroticism.
5/10/25 ~ disneyland can wait
today I witnessed the physical manifestations of my state of mind. I decided to dress really cute today, with my black floral dress bought from japan, knee high leather boots, a heart choker, a pair of lace gloves. I listened to disney land can wait by boyd rice and I felt back in touch with my true self again. when I have spent so much waking time in a state of autopilot, in a state of not being my true self due to societal expectations and being at work, I begin to lose my sense of identity and feel lost as to who I am again. I did things that made me realize myself again, and I felt happy. I walked back in my room and saw how my depression manifested: dirty and old tea cups on my vanity table, dirty clothes all over the floor to the point I can barely walk, bedding that hasn't been washed, a general sad and depressing state for a 24 year old girl's room to be in. it wasn't always like this. I am thinking of increasing the dosage of my anti-depressants. in general, I get very depressed when I repress who I am for long enough. I want to read and write more, code more, go to sf everyday like I used to. I just don't have the energy anymore. today will be different.
disney land can wait
4/13/25 ~ another list of my likes/dislikes.
4/13/25
i'm currently reading eros the bittersweet by anne carson. I love this book so so incredibly much and it might be my favorite of all time. it puts into words the feeling of longing I have, the feeling of lack and desire and the "stirring up" of butterflies and emotions that cause a sort of "striving" that ends up leading me only to myself yet again. realizing that my desire for the other is the desire for the self, to look into the empty void in me and fill it with something profound and otherworldly.
4/10/25
[redacted for privacy]
4/8/25 ~ things I like.
4/8/25 ~ things I dislike.
4/8/25 ~ reality feels like a dream.
when your senses overwhelm you and you feel the moisture of the air, the dust particles and microbes sitting on your face, your little heart beating so fast, every sound in your vicinity amplified by 100, the strange feeling of being a human being with a frontal lobe. navigating between the reptilian, flight-or-fight, amygdala-ridden self, and the frontal lobe of higher faculties, fantasies, dreams, reflections. I am amazed at the concept of existence itself. this is a very enjoyable experience for me, actually.
2/05/2025
I decided to go to the movies by myself to watch the brutalist directed by brady corbet. I wore my music note lolita coord and got to try out my atelier pierrot parasol for the first time!
the movie was long (about 4 hours total including the trailers) and I was immersed in it entirely. it felt like a shared experience since it was only me and one other woman in the whole theater. it was the first time I had experienced a 10 minute intermission scene in a movie as well (more time for me to get hot cheetos :3). this film was stressful for me because of its subject matter. seeing the prejudice that lászló tóth faces as he strives for the american dream, him internalizing it, manifesting in his drug addiction and abusive behavior... it affected me quite a bit. but that's a good thing, I like when films move me. I loved the archiectural details so much. the concrete, stone, the high ceilings pointing to divinity and holiness. it made me think of the book the poetics of space by gaston bachelard which has been on my reading list for a while and i'm going to start reading today. the second half of the film was kinda weak... especially the ending, and I think that detracted a bit from the core message of the film and lászló's struggles.
2/04/2025
:3 nvm I feel better