I like this blog because I can share something like that knowing it's never going to be seen, but it still feels so much better than just journaling it or keeping it completely private, I can't quite explain it but I'm happy that I have the blog for now.

slowly

 Im taking the steps, slowly but surely, I'm building the passage, my chest is not taking this lightly and I'm stressed, but I have hope that I will come out happier on the other side, whenever that comes. Clothes are a part of that, I know I won't wear these for a long time, but it really is the only step towards the goal I can conceive taking right now, especially with my budget. I was in a casting for an ad today, it's possible that at least that problem will fix itself if I get picked

construction

I'm building a passage. It isn't simple, it isn't easy, it isn't very rewarding and I feel like I fool, but I continue to build a passage nonetheless. One I pass through to shed myself of what once was and exit as me. I will break myself into pieces to use as building material if I must, and put the rest back together. gradually a passage will begin to build up, I may take a step or two in the process, but once the moment comes when the passage is ready I will pass through it all. One thing worries me though, what awaits for me at the end of the passage? A private hallway was never ment to be seen, and the leading up to it was to be forgotten in order for it to work. But the world doesn't forget. No one does. Will I come out of the passage only to find out that passing through it was a mistake in itself? Only the builders are allowed to know, only the builders can appreciate how hard it was to walk through and build, but there's not many builders, especially not of this passage. The thoughts are still jumbled and the passage while certainly appealing leads to places I'm not quite ready for... That I'm afraid of. I wish there was a way to confront the buzzing lights, the red carpet, the vast expanse of closed doors stretching as the passage extends, tell them to turn ever so slightly so I don't have to encounter the same world at its end. As the curve of the hallway ever so slightly shifts, may it lead me to a world in which my name is nothing but a howl of the wind, one without an answer, unknown to the rest of nature. Grass gently caressing my feet welcoming me as a new guest.

dreams

I've started hallucinating recently when waking up, it's usually ominous figures staring at me or things buzzing over my head and once my open my eyes turning into insect like shadows that run against the wall and immediately disappear. Sometimes scenarios play out, someone running into my room and talking to me, or just simply me thinking I woke up before I truly did, someone calling out my name or laughing. I have a tiny bit of autonomy in these, I can jolt upwards only to find myself laying on the pillow in the same dream again, I can move my hand a few centimetres or touch something only for it to disappear, or I can be paralysed unable to do anything but think. Today I dreamed of someone visiting me, not someone I like, quite the opposite, but someone who was laughing perhaps mocking me. I sleep on an elevated surface, lead to by a stairway. While heading down with what could be described as mild dread, I stumbled upon an object which I could not comprehend. It was vividly red with fractal like reflections stretching for what seemed like a distance between a dagger and a spear, though constantly changing. I picked it up. When I got to the "visitors" I pushed them off the stairs and watched them fall with it in my hand. There was no specific amount of time between this fragment and the next, I woke up once again, there was a pair of elderly hands next to my head, a feminine hand holding the somewhat bigger hand. The gentle wrinkled hand wore a golden ring with a rectangular Black obelisk in the middle, it was a bit hypnotising. As I went closer to join the holding of hands, they slowly shifted towards a single open inviting palm, perhaps I wanted to do that intentionally as I was somewhat aware at the time. When I touched it, it dissipated like it was made from layers of colourful fog. I woke up.

distractions

I've noticed an odd pattern in my life, the things that I hate the most and dedicate the most time into, make me feel well... Nothing. My thoughts are jumbled and my mind is a mess, seemingly good feeling only make me feel bad afterwards and sad books fascinate me and make me happy. The distractions imposed by school make me forget all of that, I no longer have thoughts or an identity I'm only an agent of math, physics etc. even seemingly innocent things like skiing can completely distract from any and all thought, I still think about the same things but there is no emotional feedback no way to access them. Maybe all this distraction is good, maybe this all is happening because I'm not distracted enough, I still feel the longing.

vestiges

I have this desire to sometimes just leave everything behind, not simply my surroundings but also my memories my pains and my appearance, to become another person in another place no longer shackled by what once was. It's different from the usual want to cease existing entirely or to get through a problem, it's more abstract. I'm chasing a dream in which I can be someone else, that will never happen though, I'd like to have at least a new begging a period of peace and solitude through which I can come out finally being myself. A long passageway a liminal space in which I can sort everything out, stare at the velvet carpet and listen to the hum of fluorescent lights, a peace from everything, I'd like to come out a different person one that is more me. I pray for the moment a passage appears making this form nothing more than a vestige as I pass through it.

wall

I want to go into a small room with cold walls and lock myself in, I want to lie on the floor looking at the vast sea of darkness above me. Reach out my hand and touch the dark mist. My hand will be only met with emptiness, streams of vapour escaping even the tightest grasp. There's a peace on that floor, empty but true, a solace. The content of the floor isn't enough, not anymore, I don't want solace I don't want peace, not this form of it. I want a room with all but one wall, all slightly colder than the body temperature, I want to curl up in a ball and fall in that space, the walls offering protection from all sides. I want the gentle cold embrace, it calms me.

dream

 This has been a recurring dream. There's boy who I'm not certain from time to time enters a post apocalypse overgrown brutalist pool house facility. One that defies logic and reason, stretches infinitely beyond reason, monotonous. There he finds a robot girl, a trapped spirit perhaps, a vessel tied to that place itself they bond, he then starts coming to that place from time to time. It is implied that it is in another world almost. It's a place with layers, the top has grass and is overgrown beyond all the concrete, but the deeper you delve the darker it is... It's haunting

machine

 It feels as though the body is a machine that's almost impossible to understand. It's connected to so many different inputs and outputs who each communicate between each other in complex ways, even while we can get to know the muscle structures and other individual aspects, the way they all connect to the psyche is a mystery to me. Feelings and emotions forever obscured for reasons which I myself can't explain. Today I entered a state which I don't often enter, I felt vulnerable for however much that is worth, I wasn't sad in particular, but I felt like anything could tip the balance. The delicate machinery in my body seemed to function differently than I'm used to. The best course of action as I figured would be to reset the machine which acted strangely, sleep serves that purpose well. When I laid down as one has to in order to sleep I felt as though the balance has tipped and tears started flowing from my eyes, this was for no reason that I could come up with. I needed something to weigh me down, something to squeeze and hug too... I pressed against the wall and the shelf that was above it covered in blankets all while still laying, it was... Nice. When I woke up, everything went back to normal as if my unusual state was nothing more than a distant memory.

fire

 I like burning things, it's calming. There's a kind of finality that comes with burning something, an end to its life as an object and a beginning of a new one as the fire starts to grow. You can see the individual masses of red move as if they're alive, while they destroy what's left of its predecessor. Ultimately, they all cuddle up and preserve the heat they have left in small clusters. Something about that process shows closure, the object has been completely consumed and repurposed, it has been used to create a spectacle which I at least enjoy watching. The hypnotic dance of red and orange, I wish sometimes it could be as simple, open myself to the embrace of warmth and join the clusters of embers.

cycles

I don't know what will happen any more, everything is constantly shifting, everything seems uncertain. The only solace is the fact is the cyclical nature of it all. Wake school repeat, wake school repeat... It seems inevitable now, even escaping the current cycle will lead me into another. There... there really is no escape, I can only hope to find peace within it. Making the cycle positive seems impossible, since the not so frequent hardships seem to be more common than positives. Making tea is nice though, drawing is nice... Maybe that makes it ok. I don't know yet, I'm hoping the next cycle will be better, I'm content with only having hope for now