DECEMBER 1, 2025, 8:15 PM:
My grandma died today. She passed in her sleep, peacefully. I watched her yesterday, and today she died. I already accepted she was gone. I don't even remember what she used to be like, so it was kind of like she was dead already. I'm not even upset, just kind of glad her suffering is over. Her quality of life was awful.
END TIME: 8:17 PM
DECEMBER 2, 2025, 4:22 PM:
My piano arrived today. I've been having fun just fucking around and playing the songs I can play on virtual piano. I'm, heh, kind of the best guys
DECEMBER 4, 2025, 2:52 AM:
I think I have PTSD.
I don't necessarily want to share what it's about, but every time it gets mentioned, or even something related to it, it's like my brain goes numb and an endless void opens in my stomach. I have nightmares about it; I had one the other night, and I woke up so stressed out I was almost in tears.
My depression waned for a little while, but now it's getting worse again. The week has been stressful. My grandma died, of course, and my dad is home again and there's been new change in my room and her funeral is tomorrow (today, actually) and I had to go find a dress and I was left in the store for 2 hours all alone.
I feel hopeless. Not devoid of hope in my mind, but as if I might have no feasible hope, but I retain some of it anyway.
It may just be hormones and stress. I don't feel like talking to anyone, or eating anything, but I make myself do it anyway. I just want to be locked away in my room to do whatever I want.
I've been feeling like maybe I'm not worth it. Like I don't even deserve to crave basic human attention, and it makes me feel like an alien. I've come to realize that I have little understanding of human relationships in practice. I have plenty in theory- I know how to recognize toxicity and what's healthy. But I do not feel it. I do not know a teenage girl's unbreakable bond with her 'mommy.' I have never clicked with my father and I dread it when he walks into a room. I have no siblings and I do not see any other family members aside from holidays. I haven't even met enough boyfriends or girlfriends to understand the edgy break-up stuff I see on TikTok, and what little experience I have with them, was tarnished so abashedly that it makes me not ever want to do it again. All I have are a few friends I've been pulling away from.
I really need to go to sleep soon. I cry when I write this stuff, and I already had a headache, so that's going to get worse. I have to be up by 9.
END TIME: 3:10 AM
DECEMBER 9, 2025, 1:21 PM:
I feel like a dead, bloated water buffalo floating down the river. I haven't slept and I just practically chugged 3/4 a bottle of Coke while playing Fortnite and listening to classical. Am I living the high life?
Piano is going well (maybe, I have a terrible sense of pitch). I learned how to identify major scales. Piano is both encouraging and disparaging. I look at it and just want to play, but don't know how yet. However, music theory is really fun to learn once you simplify the shitty vocabulary in your head. "I like your funny words, magic man!"
Yesterday morning, my dad came into my room and listened to me play E major, told me that I was the best kid ever, and then said I was going to be the most socially awkward person ever once I got out of college. A strange chain of events.
I can feel myself entering burn-out. Christmas break is in two weeks, and while schoolwork isn't necessarily hard, piling it onto the daily existential stress of existence along with managing inner turmoil and physical maintenance all adds up to one big steaming pile of shit that won't make it those two weeks. I both want to interact with people and don't. Whenever someone calls or texts, I get this deep pit of dread that forms in my chest, but I also don't want them to leave.
I feel so stressed for no reason. I don't do anything. But there's a lot I need to do. I need to clean, for one. I got low to my floor and saw just how beautifully disgusting it is. I need to do laundry, maybe dust. I also have appointments coming up for my autism assessment, which is spread out into five fucking appointments. My birthday is also coming up next month, and on the 18th this month, there's a stupid fucking "Student Showcase" presentation that every senior is required to do, including virtual. I think I'm just going to bring a bunch of my sketchbooks and my iPad and say "look at how much I've grown!"
I've taken on so many hobbies that I don't know what to do with it all. It's like being both Rapunzel and Mother Gothel. I have to be good at my hobbies or they stress me out more than they make me happy. Piano? Better learn all of Clair De Lune in a week. Art? Better get cracking. Your best friend is better than you and she doesn't even have to try. Video games? If you can't carry your friends, why are you even playing?
I think maybe I need to slow down. My body is at a snail's pace and my mind is at a cheetah's. They both need to be at the leisurely stroll of a Walking horse. I'm going to finish my schoolwork for today, throw my laundry in the washer, sweep, and then, perchance, take a nap (a 12 hour one). Sometimes I need to remind myself that it will all be okay, albeit a bit greasy.
END TIME: 1:43 PM
DECEMBER 26, 2025, 12:03 AM:
I never fail to look like shit just in time for the holidays.
My Christmas was boring. I lost all that whimsy at 13. Well, it was boring, until our neighbor's son went joyriding down our road and ran over our fucking dog.
My mom wailed. It was grotesque. It was a yorkie, a big round large one, but still a tiny yorkie nonetheless, so she never stood a chance against a fucking pickup. It rolled over her neck, and thinking about it actually makes me want to vomit.
(TW) Her eye was popped out of her skull, and her tongue was hanging out of her mouth, and her teeth were all fucked up. I wish I didn't have to look at it. She was a pretty dog. Silver hair, and these big round puppy dog eyes. She was only 2 or 3 years old.
Fuck you, Roger.
END TIME: 12:09 AM
DECEMBER 29, 4:10 AM:
I really fucking hate orthodontists, and the predatory practice of orthodontics.
I've been thinking about some things about perspective lately.
I wonder if I've ever truly experienced having empathy. There are many situations in which I can feel those feelings like I was in the situation myself, but there are many others that outnumber those situations that make me think perhaps I am missing something.
My dad said some things that made me think of his perspective a little bit differently.
My father is a very complex man. You can talk to him for a little while, and truly pay attention to some of the things he says, and the origins of why he says those things, and you connect the dots to some of the things he does, and you understand him just a tiny bit better.
I think my father has very little empathy. One of his coworkers comitted suicide, a young man in his early 20s, and my father had neither sympathy nor empathy for him. He thought that a man that age should know how to help himself. "I'd understand if he was 14, and just a dumb kid," he said.
I thought what he said was cruel, I still do, but I never expressed it to him. Did he know what his own daughter was like? But now, I think of it some more, and it makes me think of his childhood. Neither of my parents have told me much about theirs, but my dad has told me a little bit. Both of my parents have just breached 50. So, they grew up in the 80s and 90s, with their local culture and internet-free hobbies.
I grew up using devices. Phones, iPads, Kindles, gaming consoles, cable TV. Most of my happy memories are online. My dad didn't. He grew up as an ornery teenage boy, that got two weeks of in-school suspension for mooning an entire team of cheerleaders, got whooped by my grandpa for spitting on the floor, and married right out of high school. He didn't have access to the information overload I did, or interact with the same kinds of people I did, like the era of pop internet culture in 2014-2016. He was never truly "around," so he was never able to imprint any of his views or values on me as a child.
Apparently he used to spend all of his time on video games, never saved any money, and lived in a trailer with my mom. Completely different from the father I know. The father I know thinks video games are at best useless and at worst detrimental. The father I know spends all his time working or in the garage. The father I know has several investments and started a business just to pay off our mortgage. The father I know is an example of a man who has experienced true character development.
Despite all of that, I do not want to become my father. He is a changed man, but ultimately, he is a bitter man, who views his responsibility to his family as a burden, lets his wife rot in sickness, and values himself and his own feelings before any other thing in his life.
Everyone is completely entrenched in their own life. This is present in everyone, no matter who they are, and in some people it is prominent. I have met many, many different kinds of people, from literally every walk of life, and I have done my best to see inside of them. I have met the children of poor druggies, people from third world countries, homeless people, boys from the "country" who haven't even seen the Grinch during Christmas time, gay-confused Christians, "shallow" people, friends who I made comfortable enough for them to truly tell me their views on life. The list continues. And yet I am still entrenched in my own life, just like my father, who has been to an endless number of countries for work, and knows even more different kinds of people.
I think my father is, if there was a word to describe it, a sorry man, and I am just like him.
There is more to him that is indescribable. His behavior is enigmatic, like you can tell there is much more inside his mind than you can see, yet he is predictable. You have to be careful what you say around him because he offends easily, yet he makes jokes about painting houses by throwing babies. He spends his evenings watching YouTube videos related to his special interests. You can tell he wants to be a father, but his attempts have little meaning. He complains to me constantly about my mom's flaws. He has the most fun I've ever seen him have singing his favorite music, which happens to be the most basic shit ever.
He is a lonely and performative man.
END TIME: 4:55 AM