This anxiety is really unbearable. The new anxiety. brought about by abilify. It goes away, fleetingly, when my mind is occupied with something, like writing or reading or walking while listening to music or a podcast. But those are always short bursts. I have, however, spent most of the past couple of days reading in aforementioned short bursts, and i consider reading productive, so that's good. I feel like I'm eating books; devouring and devouring but always remaining hungry, shaky.
It's just so horrible, going through every and all day feeling like I'm watching a horror movie. I remind myself that everything's okay, that life for me right now is actually quite good, but I can't appreciate it.
In other news, I thought I was over Lachie but it still hurts. It's a round, warm pain in my chest that, ironically, makes the quarantined night seem less formless and scary. There are two parts to this pain. First, i miss him: I miss talking to him pretty much every second of every day. I miss constantly multitasking whatever I'm doing with texting him. I still have him, of course, because now he's still my friend, but since he's fallen out of love he hardly ever talks to me. Having him to talk to would make this ~time~ so much easier to handle, I think. He's comforting, He is meaning.
Second, I miss being loved. Both the emotional and physical aspects (thought they're not mutually exclusive.) I miss hugs, kissing, I miss sex. I find myself tempted to make a tinder or bumble account, just so I can hurry up and find someone else to love and be loved by. But I must remind myself: the kind of person I want is most likely not the kind of person to use tinder. I have to wait, and it sucks. I miss the weight of his body, when I'd make him lie on top of me because I autistically like the pressure. I have a weighted blanket now.
A Diss Track About My Boyfriend
I love a boy with curly blackish hair;
he withholds love to discipline himself.
Like Atlas on a fucking office chair
takes hours to text back, puts me on a shelf.
Meanwhile I always reply instantly,
because I spend most of my life in bed;
Tangled sheets and legs and head constantly
(he's the only thing keeping me undead).
Japanese homework and vague-ass suit jobs
and fucking off overseas for two months
to thee best wifi in the world, what odds!
But in a day he'll only text me once.
I love a boy with curly blackish hair
He doesn't love me back, it isn't fair
It's just so horrible, going through every and all day feeling like I'm watching a horror movie. I remind myself that everything's okay, that life for me right now is actually quite good, but I can't appreciate it.
In other news, I thought I was over Lachie but it still hurts. It's a round, warm pain in my chest that, ironically, makes the quarantined night seem less formless and scary. There are two parts to this pain. First, i miss him: I miss talking to him pretty much every second of every day. I miss constantly multitasking whatever I'm doing with texting him. I still have him, of course, because now he's still my friend, but since he's fallen out of love he hardly ever talks to me. Having him to talk to would make this ~time~ so much easier to handle, I think. He's comforting, He is meaning.
Second, I miss being loved. Both the emotional and physical aspects (thought they're not mutually exclusive.) I miss hugs, kissing, I miss sex. I find myself tempted to make a tinder or bumble account, just so I can hurry up and find someone else to love and be loved by. But I must remind myself: the kind of person I want is most likely not the kind of person to use tinder. I have to wait, and it sucks. I miss the weight of his body, when I'd make him lie on top of me because I autistically like the pressure. I have a weighted blanket now.
A Diss Track About My Boyfriend
I love a boy with curly blackish hair;
he withholds love to discipline himself.
Like Atlas on a fucking office chair
takes hours to text back, puts me on a shelf.
Meanwhile I always reply instantly,
because I spend most of my life in bed;
Tangled sheets and legs and head constantly
(he's the only thing keeping me undead).
Japanese homework and vague-ass suit jobs
and fucking off overseas for two months
to thee best wifi in the world, what odds!
But in a day he'll only text me once.
I love a boy with curly blackish hair
He doesn't love me back, it isn't fair
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