Fanart of Travis Phelps from Sally Face, writing in a journal

Welcome to my diary. Be warned that nothing here is accompanied by a trigger warning. It is the unfiltered talking space of someone who, in a word, "is fucked up". This isn't a happy or relaxing page! Proceed only if your curiosity outweighs any discomfort with dark topics.

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Lyric of the Day: 'Cause I got issues, but you got 'em too / So give 'em all to me, and I'll give mine to you


I was voted the president of my school's neurodiversity club!!! Well, me and this other dude. There was an informal voting process where we tied, but I think most folks voted for him because they recognized his name. Not to sound like a bitch or anything. But I listed all of my qualifications on the spot when asked, and he went after me and all he said was that he hadn't prepared anything. Like, yeah, me neither, dude. And you had more time to come up with something to say. It's a pain to share a position, but I got one, so that's good!! I also gave an example of a fixation presentation for later this year, on MILGRAM. I talked about what the project was, and analyzed Amane's recently-released MV as an example! I got multiple people interested in the series, and DMing me for links, ehehe.

Speaking of other people being... An issue. One of my writers for the autistic characters zine that I'm making dropped out last minute. Within, like, a week of the final deadline... I picked up the slack for him, working as his pitch-hitter and writing a fanfic within a week, and still submitting it on time! Unlike some other contributors. Look, am I insane, or do most zine contributors literally wait until the submission day is announced to work on their piece, despite there being a month-long working period between each deadline? Is that why so many people ask for extensions at the last minute, and only drop out near a deadline? The way that everyone talks about working on this zine, and others, that's the vibe I'm getting. That's so... Not how it's supposed to be done.

Also, at school, my art class doesn't have air conditioning. I started having heat stroke symptoms in one of the classes, because it's the summer in the South!! What did you expect? People have been constantly complaining about sweating this whole semester, and only last class did my teacher say he "could submit a ticket". Did he not do that before?? On top of that, my teacher has a problem where he doesn't communicate with me, and then gets annoyed when I don't know certain things. Like, he told me to email him this assignment I missed (due to leaving because of the aforementioned heat stroke symptoms), and so I did, a few days later. And then, he emailed me back saying that he had already graded everyone else. I was apparently supposed to email him back later the same day he told me, but he didn't tell me that! Then he went on to scold ME for my POOR TIME MANAGMENT SKILLS. As if he hadn't ADMITTED that I was a fast artist. As if I'm not consistently one of the people who puts the most work into their assignments, and still turns it in first! Jesus.

It's not all bad in art class though. We had our first critique last week, and everyone said such nice things about mine! One of the timed pieces I had to rush, someone said looked like the works of the "old masters". Someone said that my wrinkles looked so real that it looked like the paper was wrinkled, another said that it had personality while being realistic, and another one still said that they could tell that I was an artist with previous experience without me having said anything. Another said that they saw my work in the middle of class one day, and applied some of what they saw in my piece to their own work, so they said, "You're already an influencer with your art!" Which, of course, made me joke that 'influencer' was an awful word to be called, but I made it clear that it was a joke and thanked them. My teacher, for critique, noted that I am very good at proportions, that I work fast, and that I don't need to warm up like the others do.

Also, outside of the art club, there's a community chalkboard. I drew the trans flag on it a few classes back, and wrote, 'trans rights are human rights' next to it. When I came back for my next class, people had drawn their flags on the chalkboard, too!! It made me so happy!

A photo of a chalkboard, with the trans flag drawn on it, and 'Trans rights are human rights' written next to it. The bottom right has is a drawn heart with the initials AB and LR in it. A photo of a chalkboard, with the nonbinary and bisexual fags drawn on it.

In the meantime, the Shiver vs Frye vs Big Man Splatfest went down! I don't wanna talk about it. (I was on team Big Man, but would have been happy if Frye had won. Shiver won. Of course.)

My beloved has also started working on his site more, which makes me SO EXCITED!!! I've been having so much fun helping! Also, pups tumblr got suspended again. This time for URL hoarding. (Which is weird, because xie only has, like, 5 of them.) We have yet to hear back. Verdant suspects that it's because he asked by the tag 'Lesbos' was blocked in that email chain (as in the island), and that this is a punishment. I doubt that, personally.

Ooh, tumblr lately... I'll talk about that in another diary entry.

Lastly, I've been having a lot of dreams with Mimi in them lately. She passed away last year, and stopped appearing in my dreams shortly after, so her re-appearance is confusing. I thought I was more or less done with that grieving process. In my dreams, I remember that she had passed away, too; I asked my mom why Mimi was here when she died last year in one of my dreams, and my mom said something dismissive in return. Something like, "Oh, don't worry about that. It was just meant to be."

It was weird. Dreams are weird.


Lyric of the Day: How do my plans fit in with yours? / You're such a doll / And I'm a boy


When I was in art class in college yesterday, while I was being told that I had to draw a self-portrait (despite my self-hatred and body dysmorphia), I suddenly got hit with the strongest wave of, "What the fuck, why am I here, I would rather die than be here, I'm not learning anything new about art in this class and it's worsening my mental health." For all the reasons I've listed before (the teacher is still in no rush to fix the air conditioning, the teacher not communicating and acting like I'm dumb, etc), of course, but somehow, it hit me like a baseball bat to the back of the head near the start of yesterday's class. I messaged my mom, asking to be picked up, and telling her that I needed to drop this class. She'd already paid, and paid for the art supplies, which I did factor into my choice, but the truth was that this class had been slowly chipping away at my mental health more and more, and I wasn't sure I'd be mentally sound if I kept going like this.

On my way home, I thought about suicide. I thought about how incompetent I was for not being able to handle it, when my mom had already paid for it. I thought about how I'll never amount to anything if I can't manage this.

I'm supposed to go to this convention with a club I'm in, too, and my mom did approve it, but today, she started messaging me about it. She said, "I don't think it's a good idea because you will be stuck for 4 days with no way to get home if you are having problems," and, "If you can't handle an art class, how are you going to do an airplane ride, with a layover, and 4 days away from your comfort zone and without someone who knows your particular struggles to help guide you?" Among other things. Then, when I expressed to her that, I had agreed to go in order to push myself, but that she had successfully scared me out of it, she said, "I actually want you to go. I think it will be good for you."

Sure could've fucking fooled me.

Then again, this is the same woman who I've been fighting tooth and fucking NAIL to let me get the Covid vaccine. Further back, I wanted my insurance card so that I could get the vaccine without her knowing, and when she asked what it was for, I lied and said it was to look into trans healthcare. Which inspired her to lecture me about 'bodily mutilation' and 'how God made me perfect the way I am'. (Thanks for rubbing salt in the 'religious trauma specifically regarding being queer' wound there, Mom, not like I'm actively trying to work through that right now.)

A few days later, I told her that I want the vaccine, and that I can because I'm an adult. She pulled out, "Well... When you say you're an adult, you don't do adult things, sooo," when I very much am above 18 years old. She told me that she believes I'm making a mistake, fed me the usual anti-vax talking points, and said that I had to pay for my own appointment because (I have the text for this one so I can directly quote), "I can't pay and have there be life-altering repercussions and have to live with the guilt. I will already have to live with the guilt of driving you there."

Girl, get a GRIP.

I told her that, like, "You know this makes you a conspiracy theorist, right?", and she replied, "I'm aware YOUR SIDE considers it a conspiracy theory..." And she ended that conversation with, "But consider this: someone from your dad's work has gotten all the vaccines and all the boosters, and he said that getting Covid the first time was just as bad as getting it recently, after all the boosters."

She said, "No! It's someone that I know personally."

I just sort of gave her a look and said, "So... Yes. Literally, 'source: I know a guy'."

She dropped that conversation after that. I was proud of myself for that one.

Either way. I'm pretty sure the extreme downtick in my mental health has been because of autumn coming around. Seasonal depression doesn't pull its punches, and I forget how bad it is every time. And my mom tightening the reins and being generally Like That doesn't help with my mental health state, either.

I felt really good for a long while. I thought maybe I had completed most of the work regarding healing from my depression, just based off of how I functioned and felt. One of the things I wanted to talk about in my diary, as I wrote down only last week, was that I was glad I didn't kill myself; looking back on my suicidality as something that mainly affected me as a teen. But I'm back to contemplating suicide again now. I don't want to have to feel so useless and incompetent and small. I don't want to have to slog through a miserable existence of pretending to be stronger than I am for the sake of being a contributing member to society, or whatever.

I just want to make things, and eat food I like, and feel happy. And I don't know if that's possible in this world. And I want to stick around to fight to change it, but I'm not a good person. I'm selfish, and I don't want to have to live, suffering every single day, for the sake of others. Maybe it's best to just end my life now.