a public journal: a series of first steps, missteps, standstills, and starting overs.

i cannot love people who are suffering (even what is seemingly/only “first world” kinds of suffering) or are ridiculous if i have convinced myself that i got myself out of the last episode of my life simply by “changing my mind.”

— 5 hours ago
"Fall in love with the things that would naturally bore you."
tpo, from Methods of Melancholia
— 5 hours ago
"Nice men or new creations?"

i don’t know how to become kind.

— 1 day ago

Something that I’ve realized that has been an issue since adolescence is that I… have a detachment problem. I find myself as an observer of most situations not only of my surroundings and my peers but also of “myself” and “my” interactions with such contexts and how “my personality” will adapt to different situations and trials, personalities and expectations.

It’s like my observer self will watch my experimental self interact on the field grounds and the Observer will document the different variables that affect the Experimenter’s sense of growth and evolvement.

Rarely will I find myself so immersed in a situation that that third party observer loses consciousness. Or control. I’ve fallen in love once or twice or so and, even then, she acted as some kind of babysitter—reining in the dips and the swells of the adolescently restless heart below it. And even if she lost herself for a period or so, she always came back full circle when he left, reprimanding the Experimenter for going too far. And she moved thenceforth, adding more data to her files.

And I cannot decipher which one is really me—the ever-present yet invisible observer, or the fleshed out performer, the actual partaker of reality? … because they look very different, if not almost opposites. One, a fatigued yet somehow undyingly hopeful intellectual apathete-romanticist; the other, an un-assuming, bubbly young girl untainted by and unknowing of the world. At the very least, they would almost seem like strangers if they were to meet as two separate, one-dimensional human beings.

So I am both. Does that constitute me as a high-functioning Multiple Personality Disorder’ed human being? is it even doing myself justice to call it a disorder? or is this just what it’s like to be evolved neurologically*—maybe even spiritually?

… alas, it is a lonely existence, fueling two consciousnesses where the bubbly one is the only one allowed to speak. Every once in a while another human being that functions like this will come around and we will exchange stories and sorrows and intrigues—but, you know, two tortured souls cannot remain in proximity to one another too long without something in our head universes imploding. so. that’s just the cycle of [a multi-conscious] life.

I know I sound crazy. I know I sound self-absorbed. and that’s mainly because the third party observer is telling me so. And so she reigns, and so will I.

* By “evolved neurologically,” I mean that I am not an ape. I do not mean evolved over other contemporary human beings. i am not an ass.

tpo, from Diary for Two: A House Divided
— 2 days ago with 1 note

Sometimes I feel like I have to run so hard to justify the amount I’m fed everyday—physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally. I run so hard, until I collapse.

But, some days, I feel so full to the brim, that I cannot move, and I hear him whisper, “Breathe.”

tpo, from Entitlements, and Gifts
— 3 days ago
"They ask me how I got this way, and I said it’s because I fell in (and out of) love. I was momentarily referring to a person, but quickly realized that it was considerably more exhaustive than that—it was falling for them, and God, and my ideals that were supposed to make life more beautiful for everyone. And then, falling from every one of them. Hard."
tpo, from We Read Each Other, Mid-Sentence
— 6 days ago
"This air reminds me of loneliness."
tpo, from Autumn
— 1 week ago