The Tortured Soul Suit

September 2019-December 2020

<3

9.10.2019 1:53 pm

So I'm trying to start a journal again. Primarily for the simple reason that I want to write more; I miss it. But also, I find myself getting "that anxious feeling" again that I used to get so often but now very infrequently so I tell myself that if I don't explicitly recognize it, then it doesn't actually exist. But it does exist, and writing about it will (hopefully) help me as it used to.

I find that typing a journal is a lot less cute than physically writing in one. There's no attractive cover enticing me to write in it for the pure aesthetic of journal-writing, there are no creamy white pages and faint lines for me to artfully throw my thoughts down, there's no sound of pages softly turning or quiet swish of the pencil. Rather, there are the harsh clicks of my fingers slamming down on the keys and the practical, geometric, distasteful projection of Microsoft Word into my retinas, graying my face. It is a different feel, but this is what I have become, I guess.

I am writing now because I need to explicitly state a peeve of mine. I have felt peeved by this for so long that I did not recognize it as a peeve, but simply that I become logically angry when this occurs regardless of if others do. To an extent, I still think this is true, but now I have placed a name to this peeve that upsets me more than most and it is simply: rudeness. I might be more sensitive now because I am on my period (and by might be I mean I certainly am), but at least I am able to recognize my peeve when my hormones physically allow me to get upset. When one is absurd about their expectations of me and what I am supposed to do or communicates with me in a way that shows their ill-regard for my agenda or mission, that is an abomination.

I am not simply talking about being impolite. I am talking about intentional belittling or manipulating that is whole-heartedly unfounded. I think it frustrates me so much when this occurs because, in general, I believe I put a great amount of effort into understanding others; how they think and why they act certain ways, and I feel, in general, that I have a great tolerance for misunderstandings, people taking advantage of me, and disagreements. But irrationality in a destructive, harmful context is inexcusable. These moments are the only times in my life when I will ever have the plausible desire to seriously (not sarcastically) state the words "Fuck you" and walk away.

So there. I needed to say it, so I said it. Fuck you to the one who conjured an aggressive excuse to continue unethically profiting from me, fuck you to the one who needs to sit the fuck down and let me drive, and fuck you to the one who won't let me rectify my forgetfulness of about 10 seconds, you fucking bitches.

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9.10.2019 12:05 am

So it's midnight. Jesse is snoring next to me. I am restless.

His snore is thundering now. I shoved him so he would rearrange his breathing position. It worked.

I want to shove him even more. Shove him until he wakes up. Shove him so we can hang out at midnight and I know there's not much to do at midnight and we have to wake up in the morning but we saw each other for probably a total of an hour and a half today and we can just talk, that's all I need; see his face and hear his laugh. Shove him because I'm needy. Shove him because sometimes I wonder if he needs me, not just the things I do.

I know how I am and the answer is yes I am being a little ridiculous but I too often wonder if he is ever ridiculous about me. My biggest fear is that we stop being ridiculous for each other.

Jesse has started to become logical. Logical in the sense that he is driven to accomplish his tasks. I guess you could therefore say I am jealous of his tasks.

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9.17.19 12:42 am

It's midnight again. I'm lying next to Jesse (again), eyes perky and heart thumping like the legs of a horse. I'm uncomfy. I'm tight. I'm cold and my upper left wisdom tooth is having a good time tearing its way through my gums.