current time: 12:40am

current mood: absentminded

listening to:Alexis Munroe - Touch

I have this violent need for change, for experiencing more, for living more, and it's trying to claw it's way up my throat. I'm comfortable doing nothing and being nothing, and something in me is changing and bursting at the seams with a need to experience more, live more, to push myself past what I'm comfortable.

Thinking about the future and what I want to do - how it just HAS to be something worthy, something to evoke a sense of pride - but I know that no matter what I end up doing with my life, I will be proud of myself regardless of others thoughts on it.

I'm craving more and more, something beyond myself, beyond this life. I have a desperation for more in me.


current time:
n/a current mood: sleepy
listening to: Billie Eilish - TV

Today was semi-boring. But the day was ended by walking around for a while with the baby turkeys out back and that was fun.

I've been trying to cling to the past a little more as of late, but I know I need to let it go.

I plan to create or find a new layout for my diary; I like it, but it's not exactly what I'm envisioning anymore as an e-diary.


8/14/23 current time: 2:36am
current mood: sleepy

listening to: Alexis Munroe - U Don't Care

All I've been doing the past few days is work on my Neocities. And while it's fun (and kind of an escape from life), I know I need to also work on myself.

I'm planning on taking studying for my GED more seriously soon so I can start figuring out what I want to do. My hemophobia makes many ideas of mine not possible. It's really shitty and I feel dumb for having such an irrational fear, but I guess it can't really be helped.

I still would enjoy working with animals in some capacity, though. It's just really stressful to think about, thinking about having to be around and communicate with others makes me feel sick with anxiety. Finding something you can do from home, though, is also an option and there's quite a few options for that in this day and age, thankfully. But I still feel like I'm missing out on my own life not being able to put myself out there and act 'normally'.


Excerpts from my irl diary to start off my ediary!


"The clock is in motion, a humorously stark contrast to my life.

Or to the weight of many lives I have lived, or to the weight of many lives I have yet to live, or to the weight of all of those eyes latched onto my shaking grip, while the clock smirks up at me.

Something so cocky for being also as mortal as life."


"I like the simple things. I like the silence, silence filled with bird chirps, cricket songs... I like the look and sound of someone else's joy, laughter.

I like nostalgic nights, a strong sense of deja-vu and unfamiliarity. A grasp of something bigger than me, and time: just the smallest moments of life."


"I wish I could be more open and let others in.

It feels very hard to. I feel like a lone wolf; I feel content with the inconsistency, the fleetingness of things, including people. I shy away from those that try to peer into me, digging with sharp garden tools. I fear my garden being trampled.

I enjoy letting things go free; the wind is a role model of mine. Me and the wind, I feel are the same in many ways.

Keeping up consistently with others ends up feeling like a chore. I think people are meant to be fleeting, like shooting stars. Something to admire, and let go of."


"Sometimes, I have moments where I feel like a black hole will form inside of the Earth beneath my feet; that it will suck me in and rip my atoms apart. Moments where I feel that every second that passes is closer to an inevitable, unrealistic death. My body is in constant fight-or-flight mode.


"I have a lot of anxiety. It's all building up, like a kettle. It's anxiousness about everything, not just a single thing. Things I can and can't control. Past and future. Everything all at once. There's a tornado in my head. I've never learned how to make it stop, so like any natural disaster, I brace and endure it.

I, more than anything though, feel guilt. I feel my own guilt, the guilt of family, friends, strangers, all so deeply. I want to live, yet the thought of my own inevitable death consumes me: it makes me paralyzed. It terrifies me. I feel death constantly looming, telling me, "You haven't lived. You contine not to. I am waiting." There's a clock in me that ticks relentlessly. I hear it in the bath, when I do the dishes, when I look at myself in the mirror. I'm running out of time while thinking about what time I have left."


"I think it's nice because the sun filtering through the blinds and onto the walls and floor won't ever quite shine the same way the next time. It will always shine differently the next day."