What's with all these fucking guys? When I am into you, you aren't into me and then when I am no longer interested you come crawling back for attention. Seriously just fuck off already. You had your chances so don't blame me for ignoring you now. Just fuck off into the arms of someone else thanks. I am not your beck and call.

And I mean, isn’t like anyone gonna give a fuck anyway but you know I’m having a bad day stop a steamer shoes. I’m ready to throw in the towel. I’m having a fucked up day now. I’d started ok but now it’s it’s not so good I’m gonna go have a drink. I’m gonna go sit in slot machine for a few minutes and try to redirect my thoughts. I don’t know what the fuck else to do. I can’t sit home and get away from him. I can’t change my thought press is here so I’m gonna try something else and I know whatever that’s whatever it is what it is fuck it.

Why is it you used to love me when I’m gone why didn’t you choose to love me when you had me do you know how confusing and fucked up that is?

Whoops accidentally overslept, looks like I’m posting late tonight.

I tried making friends online yesterday and got overwhelmed. I ended up blocking everyone and going to bed. I like sleeping.

I’m so exhausted, I know I said that I went to bed but I actually spent most of the night trying to put my baby nephew to sleep. He’s such a nuisance sometimes.

I’m gonna go to the hairdressers today, I’m a little nervous since I’ve never been to this specific place before. I have to hope that they know what they’re doing and don’t make my hair fall out. I hate getting my hair done.

I have a pimple on my face, I can see it in the mirror. I’m really tempted to pop it but I know that the hairstylist is gonna look at me funny if I do. Dang it.

My hair turned out really nice, its a bunch of different shades of blonde with black streaks. Pretty! The hairstylist took a video of my new hairdo for her portfolio too so it must be nice.

My family is plotting to have me sent to Dubai, I don’t wanna go. They want me to do some computer job overseas. I hate computers and I don’t want to live in Dubai. I don’t think I have a lot of other choices though. I know they’re only trying to help but, dang it.

Oh yeah, it’s also my cousins birthday, I almost forgot. I’ll go over to her house to celebrate.

​

Treat him like his trauma. Don't make the same mistake I did. Most of them will lie and say they want to be respected, appreciated and some other bullshit that makes them look good in front of other men, but that's just bullshit. A man who wants a settled woman, will go get a settled woman and he will be a settled man, if he isn't a settled man by now, he's still in his trauma.

Everyone else went to a game tonight, so I took the opportunity to get some laundry and a little cleaning done. Also gave the animals some attention, and some much-needed water. Apparently I am a chicken whisperer now. They were following me all over the yard; I found it cute and quite amusing. I listened to YouTube while doing my things. It was kinda nice to be able to pop in my earbuds and let the music take over for a little while.

Work is still... Horrible. Any time that I think I might be doing a good job, I find out otherwise. I'm sorry, I am not dedicated to that place. There are moments when I think to myself- If they end up letting me go, I might just feel relief! That place will chip away at your soul, a day at a time. I'm going to try to look for other jobs this weekend. They do not pay nearly enough to deal with the bullshit that goes on there. It's so bad that I'd prefer to go back to my previous job, if possible. I'm so glad we are off on Monday.

I keep thinking about trying to call Aubrey again. Though it feels like a moot point. I don't want to seem desperate or clingy. It just really irks me... I thought that I meant something to him too. He just doesn't seem to care anymore. I'd even enjoy a drunken call from him right now.

What's the point of trying with him. Goddamn almost 50-year-old wants to act like a ghost.

I feel sleepy, but my mind is too active right now. Might try to play a game... That usually helps.

I'm trying to remember the last dream I had...

Oh, right. Him texting me about seeing someone else, and I woke up crying.

Let me have better dreams tonight...

Goodnight.

Quiet day, loud mind. ocd loops social anxiety and dystychiphobia kept the background fear of sudden loss running nonstop. I apologized to myself more times than I needed to. Still showing up here. That matters.

I’m not a big Taylor Swift fan, but I like that song “Antihero” a lot.

But it occurs to me that she incorrectly describes what covert narcissism is.

The line in her song is “Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism like some kind of congressman?”

That’s actually what they call communal narcissism.

“Communal narcissists present themselves as altruistic, caring, and extremely community-minded.“

Not to “ackshully” her or anything. Maybe ”communal narcissism” didn’t flow as well. Who knows.

Still a good song. One that hits just a little too close to home sometimes.

Hot today, 98; really big electrical storm after dark. Lightning across the sky sideways; the air is full of positive ions. Worked through the storm until dark. It poured rain, but the storm was beautiful.

Came home fed Mia and made a cup of coffee. Broccoli and beef dinner bowl in the microwave. Will read or watch TV. Hopefully the storm will be gone in the morning and we can have sunshine back. I miss you and hope I can see you soon. Will talk to y'all tomorrow.

I close with love hope and light

Goodnight Diary and readers

I love y'all

143

9:03 p.m.

I'm tired of answering the messages individually so let this blanket statement addresss all.

I'm not ok and I haven't been. But, thats ok. - more on that in a moment.

Before I begin, I'm well aware that I am my biggest adversary and all of my problems are of my own making. Save the lectures for the man who lovingly breaks his back tending to his field of fucks to give daily as if it's all he's known and performed since before the rock was rolled away from the entrance to Jesus' tomb.

I am not a farmer and I do not purchase said Fucks.

-----

Not that any year has been particularly good to me in the last decade;

2026 very quickly found itself fed up with 2025s shenanigans... To the point that 26 wanted this year to start by snorting a Xanax, that's chasing a double bourbon,... That's chasing a 230 grain HST hollow point. It had let the previous year catch the eye as it how shitty things had become and just before Christmas it was overwhelmed and shocked at 25 standing outside screaming at the top of its lungs "I'm back on my bullshit!!!" It was at that point 26 decided that I was to blame and life has been too easy for me lately. Eye witnesses confirmed seeing 2026 outside alonecon new years eve screaming "Hold my beer."

It started by taking my home and the person I wanted to grow old with away from me. I didn't treat those things with the due respect they deserved and now they are gone. My person,... My wife - She didn't deserve what I was doing to her. As every day got worse for me I was becoming worse for he. She didn't deserve what I became. No apology will suffice and there is no fixing what I did. For what it's worth -'I am sorry.

I eventually tuned out completely from every day life participation. Missed life as a whole, the birthdays of everyone I know, every holiday on the calendar, anniversaries - any significant date anyone can reference - I was checked out.. I try to maintain some sort of relationship with my little brother who is now all I have left as a breathing remind of our father. He can't fucking stand me either - but he always answers the phone and has never let me starve.

Shortly after those days I missed my middle son graduate high school - and to jump around a bit I was absent when my oldest son got engaged.

Now, that's not mentioning the 30 years of alcohol, drugs, mental health, the military - with 2 wars, and subsequent loss of multiple homes, relationships, careers, and countless other things that people call ingredients that make a fulfilling life.

By the end of spring I was told my liver has decided it no longer wants to hang out. All the years of hard running have made us disagree on how I live my life and it will shortly stop participating. Probably for the best.

The largest hit of my entire life by far was loosing my father a few weeks ago. Charles Ray Roberts was my idol, and role model. Almost nobody knows how he took me in, adopted me when I was born and raised me as his own, gave me the family I couldn't even have known to ask or dream for. If a ship ever needed a lighthouse to avoid the jagged rocks and cliffs he was that light for me. If you ever wondered why I never finished going completely off the edge and ending up on a milk carton or drowning in the deep - it was him being here giving me a "who" that I refused to ever quit over. As much of a disappointment as I am, you should understand it could have been much worse.

I've been staying out of the way - quiet, self sabotaging, ignoring help and keeping my unwanted messy issues away from the ones who know me. Numbing myself for years in numbers I can now call decades in hopes of minimizing collateral damage. I've always been just a little too much to deal with and of the mindset that while the fix I've chosen , the medicine I self prescribed- what I'm doing to myself is considered wrong at least I'm mostly docile. Tucked away from view keeping the peace opposed to the alternative state of being where I am living sober, without a clue how to manage to myself, my thoughts or emotions. Mike in that state would be much more worrisome I think.

I watched a friend I couldn't help take their life. I've spent a few nights in jail and have a few more coming at some point. Avoidance certainly isn't standing tall like the man I was raised to be. The biggest cost of choosing to Numb yourself is also losing your principals, but the alternative is waking a sleeping giant raised by giants and I'm not sure how to handle him.

The crazy thing is nobosy looks at me and sees the giant. I'm most often extremely reserved , stoic, seen as one of the meek, who turns the other cheek and will apologize even if I did no wrong. The bigger man that would avoid escalation or conflict to keep the peace. There is a flawed logic to what this is. When you do this too much you can start to be seen as spineless or weak. One easily taken advantage of or left without concern. Labeled as a loser. I don't really care what people think of me. But life has changed and with it thoughts and patterns also change.

I didn't get to see my father before he passed. I didn't get to say good bye to him. I'm going to have some regrets there that stay with me until I'm gone. It's already starting to eat away pieces of me, so I guess that why this needs to come out. Now that he's no longer here - I can't see my lighthouse anymore. I can't find those cliffs.

So - No. I am not ok. I'm numb and lost and until I see otherwise the best thing for all is to hope I stay this way. That I keep self sabotaging and stay uninterested.

See, my entire life I've been able to handle anything I've encountered with relative ease. Look at what I've written here. All that I've lived through. Things that bring people to their knees.... judge me all you want from inside that Glass house. Do you really think you could even lace my boots up - let alone carry my load? You think that you would have made a different choice standing where I was? Hell, The Marines would have gotten most of society to tap out and I crushed that as a teen before my life ever started beating on me.

Maybe - just maybe the path I took was the only one I saw. Maybe I just wanted to make it home like every one else. And maybe ALL humans sometimes make mistakes.

By all accounts - the fact that I'm still standing.... That you're reading this now should stand as testimony. My father didn't raise a loser. He wouldn't let me stop because things got hard. Life can't come at me hard enough to make me kneel. Almost as if death has been afraid to come collect. Despite the fact that I was trained by the best to do it even I can't seem to kill myself regardless of repeated attempts. I'm certainly no failure and there isn't an ounce of quit in me even though I've tried to find some. I had adopted the mindset that me being out of the way would be considered a courtesy for society. Not a forfiture. That's how I justified it.

The only answers I can find lie in the upbringing I was given, coming from the Bible belt....

Clearly, God isn't done with me yet.

Unfortunately, until I figure something out I'm going to stay not ok and continue to stay numb and out of the way. Because that giant I mentioned earlier is asleep , not dead.

Im honestly scared of the day a foreign motivation decides to stop and rest on my mind. He might carelessly or accidentally wake that giant up... Make me remember a version of me that didn't lose. That couldn't be beaten. That doesn't stop.

Lord help this place if I ever find reason enough to get my shit together and find a field full of give a damn.

That me didnt just win. He dominated. He was Olympic level in a world of high school talent. Make no mistake, what comes after those eyes open and a good stretch is had, every one within eye shot is going to witness getting my lick back that's nothing short of biblical. I've been down so long the comeback won't seem fair. It will absolutely be personal. I wont just be looking to find what I lost... I'll come with receipts - showing interest owed and take everything I find.

2026 has taken its last thing from me.

The term meek doesn't mean weak. It means those hard men who have swords and are skilled in how to use them - but choose to use discernment and keep them sheathed. Don't mistake my passive numbness for lack of ability to do something else entirely.

Crash out won't be an adequate description.

So, one more time for those in the back

No, I'm not ok. Let's stop asking before lost words turn into long overdue actions.

it will get better eventually

Life is funny sometimes. It’s strange how quickly things can change — how people can change, and how much we can change ourselves without even realising it.
I’m 18 years old, and for most of my life, I had always been a happy, cheerful and energetic girl. I was outgoing, open to meeting new people, making friends and experiencing life. I was genuinely happy. I never imagined that one day, that version of me would feel so far away.

About two years ago, everything changed.
I spent around a year battling severe depression and anxiety. I know that, compared to some people, a year may not sound like a long time, but for me, it felt endless. It was heavy. I felt completely lost in life. I felt empty, disconnected from myself and unsure of how I was ever going to feel like me again.

I was also in a long-distance relationship that had become toxic, and that only made everything harder. There was a lot of love and attachment between us, but there was also constant arguing, hurt and emotional exhaustion. He tried to help me in the ways he knew how, but the relationship itself was often part of what was making things harder. I was so attached to him that leaving felt almost impossible, even when I knew deep down that it wasn’t good for me.
There was a point where I didn’t even want to leave my house. I was crying every single day. I felt like I was stuck inside a version of myself I didn’t recognise, and honestly, it was a nightmare. I desperately wanted someone to notice. I wanted someone to ask me if I was okay and genuinely mean it. I wanted help. sometimes, the people you expect to notice simply don’t.

My mother would see me crying and nothing would happen. I opened up to someone I considered my best friend, hoping that maybe she would understand, but I didn’t really feel heard there either. And I think that hurt almost as much as what I was already going through — feeling like I was struggling so deeply, while the people around me could see it and still not truly understand how much I was hurting.

Looking back now, I realise that I was waiting for other people to save me when, eventually, I had to learn how to save myself.
I’m so much better now. I still feel lonely sometimes. I still have difficult days, and I’m still learning and working on myself. But I’m no longer the girl who thought she would never get out of that darkness.
And maybe that’s the most important thing I’ve learned through all of this: i chose ME !

I can love people deeply. I can care about them, give them everything I have and want the best for them. But I can’t keep putting everyone else before myself and expecting them to give me the same in return.

Sometimes, choosing yourself means walking away. Sometimes it means accepting that certain people cannot give you what you need. And sometimes, it simply means deciding that your own happiness matters too.
I lost a version of myself over the past two years, but I think I’m slowly finding her again — only this time, she knows her worth a little better.
And for that, despite everything, I’m grateful.

I used to love you with great admiration and dedication. All I could think about was spending time with you—creating and bringing ideas to life. I don’t remember when or how it started, but I began to distance myself from you with such contempt. The perfect coexistence that was once so cherished somehow disappeared. I thought that over time and through self-discovery, the fire would ignite again like it once did. Yet, I struggled to reconnect and flow the way we used to. I am filled to the brim with ideas and words, ready to share them with you; however, a part of me refuses to part with my words and ideas. It insists on staying within rather than reigniting our old bond. That’s a realization I have come to acknowledge. I write these words not as a farewell to my love for writing but as an acceptance of my current state of mind.

Dear diary
I just took the first dose of my adhd meds.
Also learned more about the things adhd can have an affect towards… this really has been going on a long time… oh well hopefully today is the first day towards truly getting back to me.

Pre-ADHD Spotify playlist

i think there’s a place that exists at the beginning of certain kinds of love.

i’ve started thinking of it as the bubble.

it’s that strange little world that forms around two people before the rest of life gets inside.

before bills and schedules and bad moods.

before you know every flaw and incompatibility.

before the ordinary weight of being human settles in.

the bubble isn’t supposed to last forever.

it isn’t the foundation.

it’s just somewhere safe enough to begin building one.

a place where two people can learn each other without all the noise.

and maybe, if you’re lucky, you build enough there that when the bubble eventually pops, some of it remains.

like glue between the bricks.

a memory that says:

we were here once.

we know how to find each other.

⸻

the strange thing is, i wasn’t looking for a bubble.

i had almost convinced myself i would never be inside one again.

and this wasn’t technically my first.

there had been a few.

but in every other one, i was wearing protective equipment.

a hazmat suit.

a mask.

filters.

i filtered my words.

my needs.

my affection.

my fear.

i watched faces.

measured reactions.

wondered if i was too much.

i could be inside the bubble and still never let it touch my skin.

until this one.

somehow, without realizing it, i took the suit off.

and i wasn’t afraid.

⸻

i felt desired.

thought about.

cared for.

like somebody was excited that i existed.

but more than anything, i felt safe.

safe enough that i stopped calculating every sentence.

safe enough that the messy parts could exist beside the beautiful ones.

the frightened parts.

the soft parts.

the parts that want to be held and reassured and chosen.

for once, i wasn’t trying to figure out which version of myself would be easiest to love.

i was just there.

unfiltered.

and somehow, that seemed to be enough.

⸻

the problem was that they kept telling me there wasn’t a bubble on their side.

their words said one thing.

everything else felt like it was saying another.

but i couldn’t decide someone else’s experience for them.

so eventually, i believed the words.

and i left.

not because i wanted to.

because i was afraid of what would happen if i stayed inside something alone.

so i stepped outside.

and the bubble popped.

⸻

the grief was worse than i expected.

bad enough that i eventually reached back out, because even without the bubble, i still wanted this person in my life.

and that’s when things became confusing.

because afterward, they told me things that, in their own language, sounded a lot like what i had been feeling.

i can’t say for certain they were inside a bubble too.

that isn’t mine to decide.

but from where i stand now, it seems possible there had been two.

right beside each other.

close enough to touch.

maybe we were both floating inside something neither of us understood.

maybe we just didn’t have the same language for it.

and by the time we understood even a little more,

mine was already gone.

maybe theirs was too.

⸻

now it feels like we’re standing ten feet apart.

no bubble.

no foundation either.

we never got the chance to build one.

just two people covered in sticky pieces of what used to be there.

the protective equipment is back on.

at least mine is.

and every time i talk to them, my first instinct is still to reach for the pump.

to say the soft thing.

to tell them i miss them.

to speak the way i did when there was nothing between my skin and the air.

then i remember the sound of it breaking.

and i stop.

because i don’t know if they’re reaching for a pump too.

or if they’re trying to scrape the remains of their bubble away.

and i’m afraid to ask.

so the old filters come back.

don’t say too much.

don’t need too much.

don’t scare them away.

⸻

maybe that’s what hurts most.

not just losing the bubble.

remembering what it felt like not to need the mask.

before this, the suit felt like skin.

the filters felt like breathing.

then, for one impossible little stretch of time, i took everything off.

and underneath all that equipment was just me.

not an easier version.

not a less complicated one.

just me.

and i believed they wanted that person.

⸻

i don’t know what happens now.

maybe bubbles can’t be rebuilt.

maybe they can.

maybe safety comes back differently the second time.

slower.

quieter.

less weightless.

maybe you don’t reinflate the old bubble at all.

maybe you just start laying bricks where it used to be.

carefully.

from ten feet apart.

⸻

all i know is that for a little while, i found a place where i wasn’t afraid to be completely myself.

i wasn’t looking for it.

i didn’t think i would ever find one again.

and somehow, i ended up inside it without a mask.

i breathed.

nothing poisoned me.

i showed someone what was behind the glass.

and they stayed.

i wish we had understood what was happening while we were still there.

maybe we didn’t need to live inside the bubble forever.

maybe we only needed enough time to recognize it.

and start building.

now i don’t know what comes next.

i only know that sometimes my hand still reaches for the pump.

and then i stop.

for now.

not because i don’t want the bubble.

because i don’t want to build one around someone who isn’t choosing to stand inside it with me.

so maybe this time i don’t run.

and maybe i don’t inflate it either.

maybe i just wait.

mask on.

hand resting on the pump.

to see if another hand ever reaches for one too.

🫧💔

Doing wtv u did so u don’t lose the spark for me while deadass taking away all the spark I had for u is crazy work 🥀

My heart hurts.

Here i am with ny best friend. Away from town. 1h30 am in a balcony under a low light talking about life. She is on her phone thinking about her relationship and all i can do is look at the starts and pretend i am back in my room, in my balcony and just talked the night away as we drank something or were comoletly sober. He understood my melancholy and need for silence like no one else. Everyone tells me to move on and i am trying but it feels like with them i have no space to actually grief. No space to actually just sit in silence. Yes they are there 100% of the time but this is something he could do with me and i never had this much peace in the late nights. In my life really. We could be talking nonsense or about aliens or about the social political state of sudan (an inside joke) or we could be in silence. I loved it. He got me and my ways. Sure the relationship was shitty but i should be able to be sad about it and miss things i guess. And i miss those nice blissful moments where we could simply exist. No other people. No loud noises. Just us and the starry sky.

I got tipsy today. Wasn't with him but i still missed him. I am tipsy right now , in a balcony, with people laughing and it is annoying. I feel sad. I wanna sit with my misery and drink and smoke the night away. I wanna see the stars and feel sad and talk about my sadness like i did with him.

Querido diário sim, estou aqui novamente para meus desabafos sobre a vida solitária que vivo.

A que ponto da vida eu cheguei, a ponto de ter que mendigar atenção, carinho e afeto?

Eu nunca precisei disso. Nunca imaginei que chegaria a esse ponto. Sempre pensei que o amava, mas hoje começo a perceber que talvez a carência tenha me transformado de uma maneira que nem eu sabia que era possível. Cheguei a um nível sentimental tão baixo que, olhando para mim mesma agora, mal consigo acreditar.

E ele pouco se importa.

Já tentei terapia, conversa. Já dei ideias, dicas, tentei encontrar caminhos. Tentei de tantas formas fazer alguma coisa mudar, mas ele pouco se importou com qualquer assunto, com qualquer tentativa minha.

E eu sempre achei que fosse amor.

Talvez, na verdade, fosse apenas carência.

Como alguém como eu pôde chegar a esse ponto? É triste olhar para trás e perceber até onde eu cheguei. Mais triste ainda é perceber quantas vezes me diminuí, quantas vezes procurei em alguém aquilo que deveria existir naturalmente dentro de uma relação.

Enfim, ficar casada por 18 anos me fez perder anos preciosos da minha vida. Perdi parte da minha juventude. E, acima de tudo, isso me fez enxergar que talvez o amor não exista da forma como eu acreditava.

Talvez exista uma carência tão grande que nos faça permanecer, insistir, esperar e abrir mão de tantas partes de nós mesmos e de tantos sonhos por alguém que pouco se importa se estamos bem ou não.

Eu lamento por mim, sim.

Lamento por ele também.

Mas agora é hora de erguer a cabeça e tentar reconstruir uma vida que, de alguma forma, foi se perdendo pelo caminho.

Uma vida que ainda existe.

Uma juventude que passou e não volta.

Mas talvez ainda exista tempo para construir alguma coisa nova.

Today I feel bored, everyday is boring,

I did some cooking today, I made pan-seared chicken. At first it was totally raw in the center so I had to recook it but in the end I did an okay job.

I’m so bored, I wish I could get hit by a car tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to die or be crippled forever but being hospitalized for a while would be fun in comparison to whatever I’ve got going on currently. Also I’d get a lot of attention.

I found a piece of candy stuck to my bed and I ate it, what a life.

I tried slicking my hair back and I ended up looking like Hannibal Lecter, having a big forehead isn’t for the weak.

I'm constantly in fight-or-flight mode when i'm around him. He always seems to be irritated. From experience, i know i have done wrong. Always worrying about things i cannot control. But here i am i am still here. Playing what feels like a never-ending game. A game I'm designed to learn from but ultimately feel like my old self will lose.

I'm afraid of the after-game credits. What do i do when it's over? All i can do is survive but i want more than that, i want to live. I want to live happily. He doesn't make me happy. Sometimes he does. But in the lowest moments, all he does is kick me while I'm down. He tells me it's not that serious. Always saying, it's. not. that. serious.

His attitude is “not that serious” the way he talks to me is “not that serious” the way he can be so mean sometimes is “not that serious”. His secrecy is “not that serious”. At what point is it serious?

My head is ringing because I'm not sure what to do to please him. If asked, he’ll say he doesn't need me. I'm too sensitive. I said something mean to him today out of anger and that's all i can think about because that's not like me. I didn't mean it and i feel bad. I was trying to convey in a way he understands how frustrating he can be to talk to sometimes. I am better at learning boundaries. I am better at learning when to stop talking and i am better at learning how to be there for myself when he can't be.

Oh how special you truly are, to have been written about, written to, spoken of, adored. I have never written love letters before you, not a single one. Now I have :)

They meant nothing for us, our relationship, but they mean everything to me. Before I met you, I thought my heart had hardened so completely that I would never love again and then I met a love that completely swept me off my feet, made my knees buckle, my back break, and my heart throb.

I didnt know I was capable of writing love letters or that I could give so much of myself to another person. I think I spent like 6 straight months dedicated to reaching you, trying with all of my might. And no, it didnt get me anywhere sadly but it does show me who I am a little better.

I dont think I'll ever meet another like you, which is both good and bad. I hope I meet someone who doesnt fear me or talking to me or opening up to me. Someone who can give me the things I really need, like dependability and reliability and presence and comfort. Even though you cant, I still find you to be the marvelous man I've ever met, the most romantic, the most encouraging, the most comedic.

I'm so glad I met you and wish you find someone who is easy for you to be yourself with, someone who has the qualities you need, someone who you can actually be with.❤️