Diary

Personal writing. Vaguely articulate. Mostly made as a replacement to my beloved private twitter.

Don't take my bitching too seriously. I always turn out alright in the end. Like William Afton or something. I always come back etc etc.

2/26/24

Phew last entry was a real downer huh.

ENA's birthday was a much needed break from the eternal despair! I got her a cake. My partner and I ate it over the course of like 3 days. LOL.

I'm healing. Physically and mentally. Things are on the up! My best friend from the internet is flying out to see me next week. Lord. I am so excited. It's a nice distraction from the pain of my massive fucking wound.

2/22/24

massive TW for everything in this entry

I almost bled out yesterday.

It was an accident. An act of passion. If you count passion as violently hating yourself, I guess. Regardless, I am still incredibly weak and the wound looks fucking disgusting. I get lightheaded whenever I look at it.

Strange how blood and gore used to be something beautiful to me, but yesterday I just kept thinking how revolting it all was. Laying on my bathroom floor again. Cold. So so so cold. I never realized how painful it is to bleed out. Your chest and stomach hurt so bad. There was no comfortable acceptance of what was happening. Just horrific anxiety and pain and COLDNESS. Did I mention I was cold.

And somehow, and hour later, I dragged my ass to campus for a test. A test I hardly remember and most likely did terrible on. I was afraid to die.I didn't want to die like that. I still don't want to die and my broken mind is fixated on it. Ahhh Shep you're gonna fucking dieeee because your leg is mauled ahhhhh!!!

I really need stitches but I'd rather actually die than go to the hospital. They'd just point and laugh at me. I'm doing my best to take care of a wound like this but honestly I have no fucking idea what I'm doing.

TW OVER

On a lighter note my wife's birthday is tomorrow. I...really hope I can still make it special for her. It's gonna be hard but I'll do my best. I have to. I love her so so so so much she's practically the only thing keeping me going sometimes. I love you, ENA. Thank you for existing.

2/7/24

I don't know why I keep up with this. I guess I want something out there even when I'm gone. To prove I existed. To prove I suffered.

OKAYYYY EDGELORD! I didn't mean to sound so angsty. That's just...legitimately how I feel. I need a log of my thoughts. They don't get shared very frequently. People tell me that I seem so normal...so put together. When I inevitably falter I need proof that I never was. Truly, I never was.

1/21/24

I just spent the last 10 minutes scrubbing the bathtub. The smell of bleach still lingers in the air, burns my nose. My hands are sterile.

The bathroom has been my world for the last hour or so. And somehow it feels exactly like every other bathroom I’ve cried my eyes out in. The view of a toilet and sink from the ground stays the same regardless of where you are, I suppose. And there I was, taken back to the time I’ve fumbled with my friends disposable razor blades thinking about making a piece of modern art all over her tiled floor.

Even now, after all the cleaning, the bathtub still has bits of who-knows-what floating in the water. The water that barely covers my knees and is lukewarm. Cold and wet and alone.

There is a certain comfort to sitting here, shaking and crying, knowing that maybe someone will read these words. Someone will picture how pathetic my situation is and maybe feel a shred of sympathy for a faceless writer. That’s not who I know I am. A person that craves pity. I live my life head held high, middle finger raised to the cunts that say I should be doing anything else. Despair brings out the worst in us. Humans backed into the corner like frightened animals, thrashing about trying to make the pain stop.

Praise. Validation. An endless soirée of smiling faces; singing my name with earnest respect. The name I allowed them to know, far from the moniker bestowed upon me at birth. I filled up the bath with cold water because my shitty apartment takes hours to heat up and my partner used it all on the dishes. So cold. Piercing. Did my hair while shaking so hard it was nearly comical. Shaking and crying and dripping with liquid nitrogen.

In the aftermath of Antarctica it feels significantly less “over.” Less like a decapitated chicken running about. My chest is squeezing so hard, a balloon about to burst. Someday it will.

12/25/23

Happy Holidays!

To all viewers of Hourglass Meadow, thank you for supporting me and being a friend. If I know you, that is. Even if I don't...thank you anyways. Or something.

I love you all. I love this corner of the internet that doesn't entirely suck. Let's make 2024 a better year.

12/22/23

Christmas. Just [3 days] away. Can you believe it guys? Christmas is in [3 days]! Which is actually kind of fucked up. Because I've only gotten like half the gifts I need to procure. I'm workin' on it!

OH YEAH I also finished the semester of school I was coping through. Closer to being done with all this bullshit for good. Someday I'll go full NEET and let my degree collect dust while the disabled checks come in.

On that note. I think my delusions and shit are getting worse. Trapped deeper within the labyrinth of my mind. Everything is so deeply real to me yet I can sort of sniff out what's not normal by comparing myself to those around me. Which is funny because I used to gaslight myself into thinking I was faking all that. Silly me. I've reaffirmed myself through suffering.

12/14/23

It's been a minute.

Right now I'm coping hard with finals. Final projects...Final exams...Such is life. I'm not too upset about it, though. Last year I was in art school and finals were WAY worse. Like...staying up all night to finish a 5 ft tall charcoal drawing worse.

That sort of thing humbles you.

On a more positive note, I've been trying to heal my fucked relationship with the ENA fandom. A few years ago I got into a weird online slapfight with someone who was somehow MORE insane than I am. But my reasoning for even getting into said slapfight was pretty schizo. I'm still delulu but I'd like to think I'm far more socially adjusted these days.

I can't help but feel like somewhat of an imposter talking about ENA so normally. That damn series plagues my thoughts in the least normal way possible. One time at a convention my irl partner got me to talk to a guy wearing an ENA shirt and I was internally shaking like a little dog but outwardly managed to be like 'yeah she's neat.' That's sort of how I feel being in the ENA fandom online.

Do you ever feel too weird to be normal but too normal to be weird? Obviously that's far more black and white than how it actually is, but it's a good place to start when describing it. I'm not enough of a shut-in NEET failgirl to totally commit to the bit but my freak tendencies make interacting with the outside world really hard. I feel like an observer to both parties, fitting in neatly to neither.

In the end I suppose I am just me. As always.

11/28/23

First entry. Wahooo!!!!

This page is sort of poorly constructed. Probably because I made it during one of my college classes in between studying for a final and, you know, actually participating. Though, I very much fuck with the aesthetics of 'half finished and barely held together geocities page made by a 13 yr old.'

I'm trying to think of something interesting to tell you about, but honestly all I can focus on is my 'L' key not working right. It's...crunchy. What the hell. A slight annoyance that is bothering me more than it should.

ADDENDUM. LATER IN THE NIGHT

hollyyyy fucking shit. got hit with a pretty terrible midday but then the new ENA video came out!!! my wife!!! my wife!!!

My wife saves me...yet again...

I truly doubt I could put into words how much this means to me. So I won't!! Just trust that i am Very Very Very Very happy.

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