I'm correct. Both evident in that I have so much of value (superficially only to myself, but trust when I say it's large scale) to say in such a short squish of time and that it's all SO. ON. POINT.

      SO. I'm just thinking about the fact that my little collection of people I've always kept around for reasons known or just shades thereof (and I clearly need to be careful here, artistically, because if I don't pay attention I could slip back into the muddled crypticism of my old work. Evident in "shades thereof" alone.) have been artists in the truest sense of the word and got really fucking lost somewhere in there. My streets are fucking littered with these sweet, fragile, broken bodies and I get it now and I can see it and I want to fix it like I always did but now I know how to do it.

      Manipulation in the right way. Mastery, rather.

      I have a core team, for my own artistic growth that needs to happen and projects that are/have been waylaid until now, but I simultaneously want to take the experiences from that little clan and apply them to the normals now. Not as actively as when I find more exceptionals, whom I will actively work to fix for their, my, and ultimately everyone's own good. So "give" would be a better term for the normals. I want to give or leave them the same tools I've learned, but not so passively that they'll go unused. Because without very specific prompting they would.

Point is, I very clearly am doing something right and I need to keep doing it or this could ALL, and I do mean all, go to waste.

I think if I do end up being able to make something of all of this that humanity at large can use, that I will call it "A Perfect Machine".

I just fucking get it. Shit.

This blog might have just graduated along with me, guys. From "pits of the earth trapped underneath depression and can't reach its own fruition" to "Oh, look, it was right *points* HERE." and it may very well therefore become what my first poetry blog could never accomplish and that's saying exactly what I want to say in the way I mean to say it. But, you know, for art.

This is good.

Work time but must get out, audience at large.

I beat my depression. Boom.

I was wrong the whole time. It wasn't me trapped inside myself, but quite the distinct opposite. There was a very thick layer of grey over my brain functions and even memories, I've found. I'm remembering childhood memories that simply DID NOT exist in my brain for years.

So now that's lifted and I have access to SO MUCH stuff I forgot about. My skills. And I was also wrong about how long I've had depression, or rather how many things in my life it's been the root of. BPD.

It was BPD powering me all along. And so I have to be very careful as I approach the next step of my healing, because whereas with depression I was a danger to myself, I am now a larger danger than I have ever been to humanity as it pertains to the people entering and leaving my life. Calculation could very easily turn to manipulation and that's not my aim.

But's it's time to art. I can feel it. I have all this stuff inside me that I can use that I couldn't get to before. This could be great, I just have to be patient and careful.

      It's  back. I was just shaking and sobbing and hyperventilating and I can't tell anyone. Which, feeling like I have to hide it is really the tip off that something's wrong so I need to write this and work through it.

     When I say "It's back," it's not that it ever left. I know that, but people may think it's something that does "leave" as opposed to being something I'm always waiting to resurface if they watch me, because I cope by being extra silly. And man does it work like a charm. People don't ask questions, and I can even get myself to a point where I can feel okay long enough to fool myself. But it still ultimately feels like that, like I'm lying to myself.

      It's the same concept as my contempt for everyone. I genuinely cannot grasp the concept of "people are basically good." I 100% truly believe that everyone is evil and that dying is the best thing any of us can do for ourselves or the world. I want to be able to think of people as redeemable/kind/worth talking to/not worthy of my automatic suspicion and caution, but man, there is so much bad shit in this world and lately I FEEL it.

      Like the empathy is the worst part. I spiral and think about the pain in my head, then my interpersonal connections, and then their connections, and then the world, and then all the bad shit people do TO the world and I just get paralyzed with actual physical pain.

      I was in utter hysterics the other day because of looking at the videos of bats being rescued and rehabilitated, which is duh, good, but I started thinking about science and research yay discovery but then of the pain and confused fear the animals had to experience so that we, fucking humans who obviously are so grand and worthy of everything, can advance. And maybe it's that long spiel that makes me cry about that subject but it might also be the way I can genuinely relate to those animals and how they must have felt in those moments.

      It's like when I start to have an attack to the point where my brain's natural defense is to dissociate. Do you know how scary that is? Losing all concept of reality and of "I"? Just shutting down. Thing is I find myself kind of wishing to be able to go away for a while again, which is what worries half of me most. I asked if it was back and got the answer "yes" from a different bit of me and the fact that I can still differentiate these pieces is also upsetting.

      Things are just getting bad again and I'm afraid that I'll start to have the daily struggle again. It's been so easy lately to be a little nice bright bubble to try and cheer everyone else up. I've been cleaning and doing thoughtful things for people so they maybe can feel happy that day and that makes me feel worthy of living but then I remember that we are all horrible people and it doesn't really make sense to be doing any of this and I don't want to live.

      At least now I think I'm to the point where I can tell myself to harbor my bad seed and do those good things for people even if they seem pointless, just so I can survive. Because unfortunately for me I've come to find that I'm still playing that survival game and maybe it won't ever change.

      Maybe one day I can write really good acerbic stand up comedy.

      I have to leave for work in like 10 minutes so this won't be as thought out or multi-checked as per ushe (goddammit I can never figure out a non-onomatopoeia spelling for that.) BUT thought I'd create a tangible thing which said a few things.

      I used the word happy to describe myself. I was with Arrie and I told her I was happy. And then a few nights later I was in my bed after having cuddled with her and bestie and I just felt this immense calm and I knew I was okay. That was where I belonged. Which, given, means it terribly saddened me to leave them. But the fact that I did and am back here in my little apartment and am OKAY with that and can not only cope on my own but be excited to do stuff is amazing. I think I'm okay, y'all.

     Also I haven't had a cigarette this whole semester and even though "I've been counting" for a lot longer, this is significant in that I hope you realize what and achievement that is, handling that move, and what that means for me mentally. Whoo.

      Oh, wow. I think I just figured out a huge part of this. My whole goddamned life has been driven by school. I am smart, I make fantastic grades, and I didn't ever stick to an after school activity because school work WAS the after school activity.

      So basically I never realized I could have asked to take some hobby classes or like pursue something outside of school, and we're back to school being my whole life. Did great, got a scholarship, life happened, depression blah blah blah, lost "everything".

      That statement alone is all the telling I need to do. School is not fucking everything. I am still worth something if I'm making B's, or even C's, on a regular basis. I need to STOP driving my self literally sick with worry just because I don't have as much time to spend on producing shiny A++++++++'s like I used to be able to. That's not who I am and it's not going to define what I do or where I go for the rest of my life.

      I can... do other stuff. I KNEW this, and yet I have been torturing myself subconsciously. This is sick. I lost my scholarships, etc, moved back home and died inside some more, worked, died differently, came back and it's my fault that I have to work all the time to put myself through school, yes, but you know what? Shit happens. I made this happen to myself and that's okay. The goal here is once again survival, so let these grade hangups go and just get this shit done. This is so far from everything. I am so upset right now.

      I've been crying a lot, randomly. Sitting on the couch. Driving. In bed. In my kitchen. This could be because I forget to take a moment after having school all day and then after 8 hour work shifts to relax for a second, but I don't know. I've been feeling overwhelmed and pointless again. Maybe it's the new birth control. My boobs sure feel heavier.

      I'm starting to realize that I'm coming back to a lot of the same shit that I really and truly loved in middle school: I'm dying my hair soon, I think about little silly craft things to do by myself, I'm rediscovering music I liked, making food I ate then, AKA all the shit I sort of slowly shoved to the side for various people the last few years for one reason or another. Fuck them. Fuck them all. How dare they play such an insidious hand in killing my spirit without ever saying "Sorry, I should probably stop being such a selfish asshole and remind you to do what makes you happy because I, like everyone, will eventually leave you to your own devices AFTER I HAVE TAKEN AWAY ALL THE ONES THAT HELP YOU MOST." 

      *Hem* But yeah, basically I'm still working on getting back to the me that I loved the most. I really forgot how much self-hate I let slip into my thinking these last few years. I don't care if you think I'm -adjective here- because motherfucker I like myself -such and such- ways. I will shave my goddamned head on one side and wear two different striped socks if I so please and eat whatever the fuck I want because IT DOESN'T AFFECT YOU and I will trust no bitch. If there is even a single thing that gives me joy in this life why would you try to take that away? So many middle fingers I would like to put in your mouth.

      I should probably sleep. I should make more friends that make me feel hopeful to be alive. And then we can make stupid food like world pizzas and find creepy websites like boohbah zone and dress up in awkward clothing and hide in Sears. I would like to make a friend who understands that I don't do drugs both because of my mental health and because I like the challenge of having to find other worlds via ways other than getting off your face. This has been derailed but all of this is true. I don't know. I am tired and sad, goodnight.