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• 6.19

  A long time ago somebody told me that if you can’t go a day without doing something then it’s an addiction; so by that logic if you can’t go a day without thinking something, is it an obsession? I feel like all I think about is babies, but my thoughts haven’t really developed beyond the idea of having a child because I never felt like I had permission to explore any possibilities. You can’t really pin the blame on anybody else when you’re the one shutting yourself down... but I still can’t even really pinpoint this primal need I have besides some fake-deep ideas I want to call “reasons”.
  Because I’ve never had a family? Because I want a physical, concrete symbol of our love that can be touched and interacted with? Because I’m lonely? I want to tell myself it’s not a phase because the obsession is something spanning a couple years and I’ve just shamed myself into shutting up about it. I grieved a lot. I don’t even really understand why, being that who I was then was definitely not the same person I am now... that person was a child themselves that tantrumed and screamed and didn’t care about other people. I would have said the same thing.
  But I feel depraved because I cannot go a day without wishing I’m worthy enough to settle with. You could tell me I am every day and every time I would wonder if it were really true. I feel like it took so long for me to get here mentally that I can afford to retrospect on my abilities... and I feel like the desire to finally get here clouded my foresight. I have no idea what I’m going to do.
  The Nursery Door was closed before I got a got a chance to think about the future, but now that I feel like I’m allowed to look inside the room it’s totally overwhelming and I’m utterly lost. I guess my obsession only overtook the notion and not the planning.

• 6.20

  I guess it sucks that I’ve literally been shaped by thousands of delusions that have either told me there’s static in our connection or that the city’s been flooded. I feel too deeply... there’s no grey area in my amplifying existential crisis. When there’s no passion I feel numbness so profoundly that I’ve slipped out of my skin. Fuck, I couldn’t even describe calmness to you when my heart’s always panicking— do I even know what it’s like to begin with?
  Dr. Warren told me that my psychosis is an extension of my personality and that’s not something I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear that my arms were safe to hold a baby in, or that my mind was intact enough to think, or if I were truly a decent person. Instead I’m rotting from the inside out.

• 6.21

  

• 4.22

  I feel like I come to this realization sometime every week before the continuous hunger decides to churn again. Maybe it’s because today I feel ashamed of existing, embarrassed of my own inhibitions, inabilities, and carnality. Like each of those manacles was finally heavy enough to drag me under. I feel like Lapis JK!!!
  Right now I’m small. I’m resting under a blanket of reasons why I shouldn’t go through with it but it’s still the only thing that keeps me warm. Every other entry felt more full of life than I do now: whether it be some form of my anger or my grief, because tonight I feel nothing at all and no amount of frilly words can really communicate how numb I am.