june 8- you texted me “happy birthday.”
june 9 - you chopped your hair and showed me. i complimented it. then i left you on seen.
june 10 - you died.
june 11- you were buried.
june 12 - i got a phone call. they told me you had died. i couldn’t process it. i was in denial. i spent the whole class checking our old messages, just reading them over and over. i texted your best friend, thinking she might need help more than i did. then i went to dad’s work so i could go home with him.

when dad asked if i had eaten, i said no. he started getting mad. i started crying not because i was hungry, but because he was mad. i couldn’t stop. he stopped and asked what was wrong. i told him a friend had died. he couldn’t say a word. he just rubbed my shoulder, asked me about your parents i understand why he would ask that,
he was silent after that i knew what he was thinking about.

when i got home, i went straight to my room and tried to sleep. i couldn’t. i remembered i hadn’t eaten all day, so i went to the kitchen, heated food, ate, and tried again. this time i slept.

june 13- when i woke up, it hit me harder. i decided to ignore it. my friend called and asked if i wanted to go to a prayer ceremony for you. i couldn’t. it would mean processing it with other people, and i was tired of grief. i felt it wasn’t my space. i told myself i was selfish, that i’d made it about me. i’d had enough grief inside me already. i didn’t want to add more. i couldn’t cry anymore.

june 14- suppress.
june 15 - ignore.
june 16 - suppress. ignore. move on.

i wanted to delete everything my account, our messages but it’s still there. i keep reading it over and over. you had put me on a pedestal i never deserved. you told me you loved everything i did, and you showed it. i don’t want to be carried anymore. i don’t want to carry anyone anymore. i tell myself i’m selfish. i disappear because of it.

august 9- i was walking home from the library with a friend. i stopped to take money from the atm. when i pulled out my wallet, a picture of my friend slipped out. i told him, “that’s my best friend. my first friend the one who is in aastu”
then i asked if he had friends here
he said he had one, but he died last year. he spoke about him with such honesty, such confidence. i admired that. i couldn’t say anything what do you respond with, i was too weak to do the same.

we started talking about death.
death has been my special topic this year. i think of it every day. i didn’t plan to mention you again i thought it wasn’t my space but you came up anyway. i thought you were just a fraction even tho that fraction still pokes me right in the heart.

i felt sorry for your friends, but i was your friend too right?. i hate feeling sorry for myself. i hate anything that makes me look weak. but i tend to reflect my weaknesses back because people find it funny. people want to be a “stronger” version of themselves around me when i talk with people, i notice i make myself small. i’m only my true self with a few ones i am fragile. that’s how i was with dealt with losing you but i ignored it losing you i didn’t want to use that as an excuse for weakness. yet, this time, i truly was weak.

i’m sorry.
i feel sorry for you.
i feel sorry for myself.

the world was cruel to you, but i admired your eyes they always searched for cracks of light, even when none were there. you were strong. the things you went through, how you dusted yourself off like nothing happened
i am proud of you. i will always look up to you.

i should have been the one to put you on a pedestal, not the other way around. i hate that you were taken just when things were going well for you. i hate that i never saw you thrive on your own.

you were beautiful, inside and out.
i love you.
i will always think of you.

this is me finally admitting to myself.

I think the only way I cope is when I talk about nonsense nonstop, and someday I might be caught on the bs and no longer do that anymore.

My dumbness makes it seem like I'm high or drunk.

Get a life?
But I don't need one.
Yehem alchalkutm Lela.


That's it good night.

Yk what hate my life right now. I can't stand this place. I hate the weakness I feel and how I fight to see things clearly. I also feel foiled by my own selfishness, which seems to be a part of me. I hate whatever is inside me that makes me feel this way.
The tiniest bit of joy I experience comes with a raging bit of anger.

the internet will rightfully lead you to believe that anyone who is “mid” (a benevolent term coined by the internet to humanize ugly people) will struggle to make friends, find love, be successful at work, and secure happiness in this life. yes, all the “mids” can hope for is a swift death and expeditious reincarnation into a bug where the mere concept of self is but a distant dream. ah! it’s simply part of the Burden we uglies must bear: not only must we covet the charmed existence of our comely human neighbors, we are doomed to seethe at the blissful ignorance of the toads, roaches, grubs and other vermin only marginally less attractive than ourselves. we are truly god’s worst creation.

most meds side effects are that they are expensive.
ayyy capitalism.

i am out of ink
Should i risk my possessions for one?

The way I hate thiss
Alchemalkm ahun

Buna for life.

I dissociate so much that I even passed by my own brother without realizing it.