the spectrum heart cathedral system

Absolute hell morning.

Woke up at 8? Fell back asleep, because we were abruptly re-awoken by the building maintenance guy randomly knocking on our door at 9am, to clean our shower drain.
I remember this because there is one flashbulb moment of us in pajamas, with this guy pouring a vile-smelling white sludge into said drain, then telling us to leave it there for a few hours.

We had barely gotten 5 hours of sleep at this point, but there was no way we were getting any more, as the bathroom is adjacent to the bedroom and the whole place now reeked like a chemical spill.
We opened the windows wide, dragged out the fans and plugged them in, then sat down on the living room couch with a n95 mask and a blanket over our head.
we couldn't breathe very well like that but at least it didn't smell like inhaling poison. we couldn't leave the house as we couldn't wash up, so all we could do was try to sleep and pray.

we were so exhausted and stressed out we "blackout slept" on and off until church at 1130.
i assume we did use the bathroom sink? were we holding our breath? there is literally NO memory between sitting on the couch and being in church

today was stations. unfortunately, today the organist decided to play a guitar instead????
now i apologize but we loathe acoustic guitars, especially in church, for synaesthetic reasons. they are literally painful to hear. they are a flatsharp yellow-orange sound, in a terrible sort of sideways triangle shape jumble. like auditory doritos, but made out of knives being jammed into your eardrums. horrid stuff. i'm sorry this is how our brain works.
amusingly as it sounds in hindsight, we "offered it up" as part of the stations of the cross, haha. also as a pride-killer, as our stupid intrusive girlthoughts like to pipe up "we're such a good singer!!" when really we sound like a laryngitic mule. they're emptyheaded snits and it is so exhausting to always have this battery of vapid arrogance twittering in the background, when we're in social situations (and therefore cut off from system coherency).

we couldn't stay to pray afterwards because they were setting up the church for palm Sunday. so we went down the street to SJE, our favorite church-- the inside feels like a soul sanctuary; it's cold and vast and solitary and full of shadow-color light. BUT there was someone sitting in the back of the church?? and THEN the cleaning guy came in with a legit power vacuum sort of thing, to clean the floors. so we couldn't even pray there, because social mode infliction was deafening and our brain cannot internally focus in that environment, due to instinctive survival terror.

went to get some shopping done instead, as we had to bide time to let the apartment air out.
we had, however, forgotten reusable shopping bags. we had to use cardboard boxes instead.
we just got some basic items, not much, which is good because we were SO DISSOCIATIVE we couldn't even talk to genesis. everything was a muddy blur. the combined sleep deprivation and stress was not helping.
even so, two different dudes asked to help us carry our armloads of grocery boxes, haha. it was super nice.

catholic radio was ranting about the "transgender agenda" again. it has been on EVERY TIME i turn on the radio and it's beginning to frighten me. there's so much anger, so much force. i'm not asking anyone to "change their beliefs"-- no, catholicism is supposed to stand as a rock. what i am wishing for is more empathy, more compassion, for those of us who AREN'T part of the "rainbow brigade" doing all that scandalously lascivious garbage to children, but who WERE children when we realized we WERE trans, WITHOUT ANY OUTSIDE INFLUENCE. we're quietly trying to survive while all this insanity roars around us. and yeah, a lot of us are catholic too. i wish that was recognized and discussed, instead of just "all these transgenders are caught in the devil's trap" because lord knows i can't shut this off. i've tried. i've tried. but doing so would be more of a lie than living as the opposite binary option.
the whole thing makes me sick.  I don't want to associate with the "lgbtq" movement at ALL but I can't deny the dysphoria that haunts me every waking moment.

got home for 230, and the apartment smelled okay thank GOD

even so, we were a total mess. shambles mentally.
Trying to undress & unpack & clean & pray all at once
Stressed & exhausted. wanted to cry but no emotion. so depleted we were numb.

Finally BK prep at 333
Very hard for anyone to front. julie really the only one getting any anchors down, we were all riding on that foundation.
Then RIGHT when we finally get together and start the eggs, MOM CALLS.
felt like someone had popped a balloon in our solar plexus. horrific washed-out shock. could not handle any more stress. don't even remember answering the phone. the hard shift from "finally headspace" to social mode hell was unbearable. wanted to die.

God is throwing me all over the place today and I'm struggling so much. Honestly I don't know if He's just purposely pushing my patience to the limit or what, but it's just showing me how weak and stupid and frustrated I am, and I really just want to collapse.
By the way, when I talk like that^ I have no real sense of identity. it's all a bodyvoice and it's all the flat-affect female voice and then people wonder why I'm so terrified is being seen as female? because this absolutely vicious Lack of self is all the only thing it means.

but God, please, I'm so tired. i don't even have the strength to think.

PROMISED Xennie I'd go to living Stations with her
Did so, it was ALL KIDS, oddly very poignant that way. jarring to see everything being done with children-- the trial, the cross, the nails. really made it hit home in a different sense.
Then went straight to home church for traditional stations, haha. we miss those. haven't gone to our church so far this lent because of schedule trouble. but tonight it worked.
we miss it, really. they don't make the church as dark as they used to when we were a kid. probably because our parishioners are so much older now and can't see in the dark, but still... there was something very sacred about all the shadow, pierced only by the candles which we frequently had the honor of carrying.
so many of our favorite childhood memories are religious, and tinged with the scents of candleflame and incense and churchwood. honestly our heart lives in those memories.
makes me think of our "cathedral," and how it has been inaccessible and even undetectable since cnc, if not before. everything collapsed, even the city itself. but... perhaps that was for the best. we were a disaster in the slc/cnc eras, and our faith was a gullible twisted parody of truth. now, though, we're able to see roots through the rubble. we need to put more sincere, dedicated time into that, soon. just meditation hours in headspace like we used to. remember things. discover things. be.

Dinner late, no memory of it whatsoever

Night archiving
YT HELL DISTRACTIONS for an hour though
all i remember watching for sure was some sth fandub, which admittedly did make us laugh aloud at a few points (a notable feat, considering how numb i mentioned we are) BUT the rest of it had such filthy language and filthier jokes that we wanted to throw up. closed everything off and walked away from the computer tempted to literally do so. disgusted with the world. how and why are people even like that.

Ended the night reading old Xangas & listening to "Violent Sun" with Laurie.
...really, that was the golden lining of everything today. i was so beaten-down by life, that when everything turned to the merciful night silence, and our body and mind could rest, i was so thoroughly bruised that everything ached. so, listening to raw data feel, and noticing that so many of the lyrics were as relevant as swords in my ribs, i just...
...lately i've been spending a lot of time with laurie, all things considered. even if it's only a few seconds here and there, even if it's just her checking in to make sure i'm okay, even if it's just her quietly standing behind me at night and asking me what i'm doing, when are you going to get some sleep, kid is there anything i can do to help, even if it's just glimpses like galaxy-arms in a distant telescope she's there.
i don't remember exactly what i did or said other than aching. my heart hurt so much it was the most real thing i had felt in weeks probably. but there was too much bruise-tender hope in this song, it caught me entirely off guard, and it was singing about her, how often does that happen, especially for this lunatic, this error, i'm too old to be crying but here we are.
i think i just looked at her, just for a moment. can't stare at the sun for too long. solar flares in my chest.
just. please. don't forget. at like 2 in the morning, with the music encapsulating the world, still standing behind me, i heard that violet voice speak in response to my everything,
"hey, kid, for the record... I'm in love with you too."


(i made her promise, don't you dare change. don't be like all the others. don't let those words change anything between us. because nothing has changed, there's just a light shining on the heart of it now.)
(she grinned at me like a knife, the way i love, and promised to keep that blessed edge forever.)

post-breakfast//

Lovely breakfast. Fearless omelet; peeled orange with NO mess OR anxiety; lovely tea; the PERFECT english muffin! Our only troubles: we bit the muffin in a "circle" & that guilt muted the data a bit. Please quit that habit; it does not help, nor does it make it "taste better"-- it has CONSISTENTLY proven to do the EXACT OPPOSITE! (BTW the cream cheese had been stored warm so it softened a LOT and that made it SO much nicer/ easier to eat!) Our second problem ties into yesterday-- I admitted that I LIKED the omelet, orange cheese & all, but THEN my weirdo brain said, "you can't like cheese; you don't match its vibe!!" You don't "match" its flavor/ texture-- YOU'RE no ORANGE!!" Same w/ the eggs: "YOU'RE not YELLOW!! And the "salt/fat" flavors clash COMPLETELY with YOUR vibe!!" THIS IS WHY I'M STRUGGLING WITH SELF-STABILITY. I have this frustrating, bizarre, yet "understandable" CONVICTION that one's personal integrity of individual identity is BETRAYED, VIOLATED, DAMAGED, even REJECTED outright IF/WHEN someone participates in/ CHOOSES to "take onto/ INTO oneself" / associates with something that is in DISHARMONY with their "vibe" OF personal distinct self??? Like, in this situation, I'm "choosing AND liking" an orange/ yellow food, with a salt/fat (heavy) flavor vibe, a "heavy"/ "cheesy" texture, AND a "heated" association? And NONE of those match me, SO, if/when I DO eat/like them, it feels like I'm REDEFINING (FORCIBLY!!) MY OWN IDENTITY/ SELF-INTEGRITY?? And dude that MIGHT ALSO be the ROOT of the PKMN-SV "omelet dread" w/ the Professors-- THEIR vibes CLASH HORRIBLY with omelets, too-- so it's like a crash/ scream of dissonant, PAINFUL mental NOISE inside, over & over, with neither food nor person ACTUALLY changing, but also with NO resolution or harmony, so it just CONTINUES, like trying to hammer a square peg into a round hole. It HURTS. But that explains SO MUCH, AND finally gives us the clarity to HEAL/ CORRECT the situation!! On that note, SADA DOES MATCH BOTH orange cheese AND arguably mushrooms? BECAUSE OF HER AESTHETIC INTEGRITY. So there IS a little resonance! BUT she DOES NOT vibe with the OMELET, and honestly I DON'T WANT HER TO BE THE ASSOCIATED "DEFAULT PERSON" ANYWAY, as she's NOT OURS, NOR does she MATCH US!! So LET IT GO. Pokémon has been "corrupted" by the Internet anyway, and we don't "relate to" the new games either. LET IT GO, PLEASE. I can GUARANTEE you we can find someone SAFE in the LEAGUE who CAN/ DOES match the omelet ENTIRELY. But, again, honestly? EVEN THEN, I'M TIRED OF THESE MENTAL GYMNASTICS IN ORDER TO EAT WITHOUT FEELING VIOLATED, because YES, THAT'S the CORE fear-- it's "an outside influence FORCING itself inside ME and FORCIBLY "CHANGING/ CORRUPTING" OR "DESTROYING/ REPLACING" ME in order to make "me" INTO ITSELF." It's invasive, infectuous, parasitic... a contaminant. I DO like omelets, but WHY??? Does that mean I'm NOT actually RED or WHITE? That can't be true, because although I "appreciate" Orange & Yellow AS lovely colors CONCEPTUALLY, the very THOUGHT of CHOOSING them in relation to MYSELF FEELS like "betrayal" and legit makes me sick to my stomach with existential dread. Yellow can be lovely-- daffodils & lemons & swallowtails-- BUT to choose it feels wrong. It feels like I must REWRITE my entire self-concept TO "choose" it "rightly"= OTHERWISE it's that AGONIZING DISSONANCE inside, for as long as that "violation" lasts!! INTERESTINGLY, I'm wondering if my "LIKES" within Yellow ONLY CAN exist AS "likes" because they ECHO something in MY vibe?? And feeling that out, for Yellow, it's the BRIGHTNESS-- the LUMINOSITY, the JOY, the HOPE of its vibrancy. ORANGE is similar; significantly, I DO "slightly" vibe with it, moreso w/ vermilion. PROBABLY BECAUSE IT HAS RED IN IT, YOU DINGBAT! So I can "like" it with less dissonance, BUT STILL, the thought of being ORANGE is still WRONG. As a side note, BROWN is unusual-- since I DO have brown hair/ eyes there IS some affiliation, BUT I can only really feel "right" with PALE NEUTRALS??? NEVER "orange-browns"-- we ALL know the ANCIENT DREAD I get from clay & terracotta-- and never "chocolates," either, for obvious reasons. BUT, our piano has that deep cherry-brown wood and that feels better? And I do like (I think?) certain scents of both literal "soil" and coffee? BUT NOT leather, or mocha, or caramel? I've gotta investigate more. But you can get the essence of what I'm describing. My "neutral" fondness leans red/ GOLD, actually?? I like cream tints, but NOT "light yellow" OR "light pink," even? ONLY "ROSE"? (That's pastel RED!) Honestly my vibe there is basically COSMIC LATTE, which feels ABSOLUTELY RESONANT for the record.
✳ But as this topic is SO complex it CANNOT be fully expounded/ explored here, let's return to the current applicable distress that I am facing w/ food dissonance. Right now, I am not sure HOW to admit that I DO like something "dissonant" WITHOUT mangling my sense of self/ coherent identity?



post-lunch//

✳ POST-LUNCH, THERE HAS BEEN A DISTURBING REVELATION that ironically answers this ↑ question, albeit in an unfortunate way:
APPARENTLY WE ARE SWITCHING MULTIPLE TIMES DURING MEALS, IN ORDER TO PRESERVE "SELF-DISTINCTION," BUT WE NEVER NOTICED THE SUBTLE YET NOTABLE SHIFTS BECAUSE WE'RE ALWAYS SEVERELY DISSOCIATED. The difference today? We noticed we LACKED BASIC DATA for pepper, turkey, AND stuffing, so when we were mindfully trying to observe it (amidst inevitable automatic memory association intrusion), we had the idea to ask, "do I like this?" And the answer was a MESS. Apparently, "NO" IS STILL UNACCEPTABLE. And SOCIALS SEEM TO EXIST VERY MUCH FOR THAT REASON!!! Because when I tried to ACTUALLY "FEEL" MY INTERNAL RESONANCE IN COMPARISON, CHANGING THE UNDEFINED, MUTABLE "I" TO MY NAME, CONCRETE & SPECIFIC-- "does JEWEL like this?" (THIRD PERSON!!! turns it to DATA, NOT MORAL JUDGMENT??)-- the answer WAS NO!!! BECAUSE IT CLASHES WITH MY SELF-VIBE!! BUT THAT'S NOT ALLOWED, NOT SOCIALLY!!! So IMMEDIATELY the mind desperately, appeasingly protests, "but I DO like it"!! AND I FELT "MYSELF" PUSHED OUT AND A SOCIAL STEP IN. And she matched the turkey's vibe, so we COULD eat it. THAT'S WHY we need to "palate cleanse" between foods, WHY we never "taste anything" at first & take ages to finally get input (which is also WHY we save "good foods" for LAST-- when we CAN experience 'em!), AND the REAL reason WHY WE "NEED" TO EAT INGREDIENTS SEPARATELY!!! Literally ALL OF IT TIES BACK INTO THE SURVIVAL MECHANISM OF IRONICALLY "FRACTURING" OURSELF IN ORDER TO SURVIVE AS A "SELF" WITH DISTINCT PURPOSE/ INTEGRITY AMIDST "INCOMPATIBLE" LIFE CONTEXTS!!!!

✳ In light of the previous two pages, AND the social turmoil of the past week, we need to try & journal about our current trauma symptoms.
(1) One VERY talkative, suffering-focused, religious patient KEEPS interacting with us in ways that are EXHAUSTING all our reserves? And we don't know WHY. She keeps GIVING us gifts, with RELIGIOUS overtones, making us feel SO guilty for NOT WANTING GIFTS, and for NOT wanting TO be "religiously esteemed" as we are an UNWORTHY, FOOLISH, HYPOCRITICAL, STRUGGLING SINNER, AND the "pushing" of religion feels wrong; it's SO intimate for me, that other people "STEPPING IN" and IMPOSING THEIR DIRECTIONS on me is legitimately traumatic; it, too, is a spiritual VIOLATION? Of someone taking hold of the DEEPEST part of me, yanking it out and excitedly shouting, "I love Jesus too! Let's chat about it and sing songs!!" But I... I feel ripped open? I can't "chat about" Jesus, as much as I try-- He's TOO close in some sense? I WANT to worship Him, AND to care for His people, BUT bringing "MY" experience/ feelings into ANY religious context feels BLASPHEMOUSLY WRONG. So people handing me pictures of Jesus covered in poetry and WANTING ME TO SOCIALLY RESPOND TO HIM AS A CONVERSATION TOPIC is morally disgusting to me, and it actually made me SO ANGRY? Like I was being trapped, forced to either reject my Savior OR to treat Him irreverently. Either I "saved face" as being "seen as a Christian" BUT betrayed my actual faith, OR I "am not a real Christian" although I'm just trying to KEEP CHRIST SAFELY OUT OF SOCIALIZATION HELLS. So THAT has me wrecked. THE TRUE "ME," WHO IS A CHRISTIAN AND DOES LOVE JESUS, CANNOT EXIST/ FRONT IN AN INTERACTIVE CONTEXT!!!!! I HAVE TRIED. FOR YEARS. BUT IT'S NOT MY JOB and so EVERY TIME-- IN ORDER TO PRESERVE MY UNIQUE EXISTENCE-- I GET SWITCHED OUT FOR A SOCIAL. BUT BECAUSE THEY'RE SOCIAL, THEY ARE EXTERNALLY ANCHORED, AND SO THEY LITERALLY CANNOT BE RELIGIOUS!! Without a sense OF "inner being," YOU CAN'T EVEN PRAY. They are "OF THE WORLD" in order for us to "survive" in it, AND TO PROTECT ALL OUR INNER PEOPLE FROM BEING CORRUPTED/ VIOLATED BY IT AND DYING, WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN NORTH CAROLINE WHEN TBAS DRAGGED EVERYONE OUT INTO LETHAL SOCIAL CONTEXTS!!! So yeah, it's NO WONDER why we become SUICIDALLY DEPRESSED when we're consistently FORCED into interactive/ social situations: not only does it require ANNIHILATION of self-integrity, spiritual sincerity, AND safety needs, IT LITERALLY IS KILLING US to stay in those situations.
(2) ↑ The second big problem with this patient: SO MUCH TALK. She traumadumps AND overshares AND seeks constant validation? Like it tragically feels like her admitted lack of self-worth is driving her to almost demand approval/ acclaim? In groups & during trivia, she CONSTANTLY goes off on long, overly personal & detailed tangents, ALWAYS specifically mentioning "achievements" or "praiseworthy" things she has done, seen, OR endured?? AND we RECOGNIZE this, admittedly, with notable frustration, BECAUSE WE CAN & DO SPEAK LIKE THAT WHEN WE'RE SELF-FOCUSED & FIXATED ON OUR SUFFERING, and are SO swallowed up by self-hatred & unworthiness that our ONLY "way out"-- as far as we can see in that state-- is EXTERNAL DELIVERANCE, via reassurances that we're "NOT hateful," "NOT unworthy," that we "HAVE worth," and "HAVE suffered"!!! And she seems to be seeking EXACTLY THAT. But... there's no real room OR opportunity for that? There's NO direct asking, or revelation of motives-- JUST TALK, and constant emphasizing that she IS fighting, she IS trying, "BUT"... she also reiterates that she's "stuck" and "DOESN'T believe" the validation. So what do you do? I feel like an ass saying it but it's utterly exhausting, emotionally & mentally, trying to PROCESS the sheer amount of quickly-spoken, HEAVY personal info, while ALSO striving to figure out, "what does she WANT by telling me this? What does she NEED? And why ME? What does she see/ assume/ want in ME specifically, and CAN I even meet that need-- WITHOUT hurting my own psyche in the effort?" And the fatal problem here is... no, I can't.
(3) I STILL care about her as a human being. I even got her a gift today. BUT I DON'T want her to know it was me. If I can, I'll sneak it onto her desk. But the point is, I DON'T HATE OR DISLIKE HER. I don't want to "avoid" her or make her feel unwanted/ rejected. BUT I'M COLLAPSING UNDER THIS SOCIAL STRESS & "FORCED" INTERACTION to the point where my emotions are TANKING, I'm isolating and SELF-ABUSING and I constantly want to cry or throw up or hide or die. I can't pull my thoughts together. I cry in the showers. I collapse into bed numb, I have nightmares & fitful sleep, I don't want to wake up. ALL of that from the SIMPLE INESCAPABLE, CONTINUAL, IMMEDIATE THREAT SHE (UNKNOWINGLY) POSES TO MY MENTAL/ EMOTIONAL HEALTH & STABILITY. I'm running on empty and I can't refuel because when I sit down at my table to reflect or read or journal or work or anything,
(4) She CAN and DOES come over and SIT RIGHT NEXT TO ME and my brain just SHUTS DOWN FROM FEAR. it's overwhelming instant trauma panic. I told Staff and I assume they told her BUT she did it AGAIN, and in ANY case her preferred seat now is the "bar" table RIGHT NEXT TO ME. So the hypervigilance & "fight or flight" response prep NEVER TURNS OFF NOW. I am burned out. It's getting intolerable, as selfish as that makes me sound. But realistically, that risk of self-mangling compulsive & extensive interaction IS REAL and it IS CONSTANT as long as we're both in this unit. I pray she finds a DIFFERENT PATIENT to talk to & give stuff to & sit next to, because I AM NOT THE RIGHT CHOICE. I CANNOT MEET HER NEEDS, even though I'VE BEEN TRYING TO. It's just wrecking me and it's NOT going to help her, either. So God, please, redirect her to someone better & kinder & friendlier & STABLE! I'm just the awful disaster that God throws at people to help them realize "they deserve better." It's true. It's happened with multiple people and this is just another stitch in the pattern. I'm just not good for anyone. I'm just... not a good person. i try but I fail miserably, because I'm a hypocrite. I'm self-obsessed and stubborn and impatient and proud and inconsiderate and I hate that, I hate ALL of it, God You KNOW I honestly WANT TO BE GOOD but I CAN'T be, not on my own, not without humility & repentance & surrender, not without grace & mercy, not without Jesus. Not without God. I try too damn hard and I don't pray enough. I'm too damn scared and I don't trust enough. I'm too damn blinded by pain and I'm not grateful enough. I'm a miserable excuse for a Christian, if I even count as one. God help me, I'm so sorry I can't help her, either. All I can do is pray. All I WANT to do is pray. Take "me" out of the equation. I don't want to talk, I don't want to perform, I don't want her to look to me or even think about me. I want her to RELY ON GOD ALONE and please, please God help me to do the same.

post-breakfast//

Blueberry poptart, brown sugar, oatmeal, raisins, soymilk, 2 creamers, vanilla chai tea

✳ Firstly, STOP RUNNING & HIDING AT THE "THREAT" OF HAVING TO LEAD GOALS GROUP. The core fear seems to actually be, surprisingly, of SPEAKING-- not in the general sense, but in a PERSONAL sense. We are REALLY AFRAID of speaking AS A "RESPONSIVE" VOICE; it's why we hate askboxes & chats & IMs. We can GIVE data, BUT we CANNOT safely RESPOND TO PERSONALLY-DIRECTED QUESTIONS, NOR can we safely OFFER personal thoughts/ opinions/ experience data/ etc. BECAUSE THEN WE ARE FORCED TO PRESENT/ EXIST AS A UNIFIED, PERCEIVABLE "SELF" and that is still DEEPLY JARRING & DISTURBING to us. No wonder people used to call us a "robot"; life would be "free of fear, dissonance, offense, & egotism" if we WERE a "robot"; tragically. ...We, shockingly, HAVEN'T given that a lot of thought, despite our (HISTORICAL) love of robots. God help us there is SO much healing to do outside of eating, too. But MOM can help SO MUCH with BOTH. She's our mother. She KNOWS "ME." All the past I forgot, SHE REMEMBERS. All the missing pieces I've lost or that have been taken from me, SHE ALSO RECOGNIZES AS LOST, and so can help us REPLACE/ REPAIR according to the true pattern in her heart. And she KEPT all our Asimov novels, haha! Case in point. "Likes & dislikes," with food AND otherwise, DO speak about the vibe of one's unique soul, and they ARE important-- AND THEY DON'T OFFEND GOD!!! For heaven's sakes, LOOK AT CREATION. God created SO MANY KINDS of birds & fish & BEETLES, like He DELIGHTS in variation & uniqueness-- the Spirit PLAYING in the kaleidoscopic joy of the Father's Art, the glorious Divine Imagination manifested through the Word of the Son!! So DON'T BE ASHAMED OF HAVING a personality, of having a unique existence, of having "likes & dislikes"-- they AREN'T MORAL JUDGMENTS!!!

+ Vanilla chai DIDN'T trigger any memories today, but without creamer it's vaguely Christmasy?? (spices) Home coziness.
+ Raisins are ALMOST SAFE! Practicing appreciating their truth = sun-dried grapes. Thinking of vineyards in the Holy Land. Appreciating their taste vibe: notably indigo/ navy? Sweetness hits Pink, undertone Amber? Super interesting & very clear. NOT scary to eat today, just anxious, especially AT the sugar kick. But it's LIFE in the desert, condensed to endure & support despite hardship!
+ Mixed the brown sugar in oatmeal ENTIRELY. Surprised that we seem to like it? But initial nerves muted input via dissociation. We'll try again. Oatmeal itself is perfect plain, but the brown sugar gives a MELLOW, WARM, gentle sweetness that perfectly complements that neutral-cozy base. God bless.
+ In the end, we actually LIKED the blueberry PopTart! It tastes, bittersweetly, just like pie filling. Immediate grandma memories. Plus the thing itself is a KID FOOD, which gives a HARMLESS & SOFTHEARTED base vibe to the whole gentle yet optimistically bright thing. Perfect for a Saturday morning, actually!



post-lunch//

Chicken on bun (lovely, just don't add salt OR KETCHUP to it!!)
Rosemary potato wedges (grandma style ♥ take time to chew. ketchup helps)
Vanilla ice cream (like it! cold & soft & sweet. fear anchored to "ICE CREAM" as concept)
Double juice (cranapple perfect. it's red! fond of grape now. POWERFUL childhood vibes)



post-dinner//

Orange Sherbet (boardwalk creamsicle/ grandma popsicle memory. shockingly NO negatives)
Quinoa bowl (took ~25m to eat!! hit us how disordered the ingredient-picking is, especially ONE piece at a time. rice takes a WHILE to properly chew! so be wary. needed MORE salt this time; discretion key. ACTUALLY enjoyed it, even beans! initial "ingratitude complaint" about "no meat." WHY. bizarre shameful rebellious AUTOMATIC THOUGHTS. assert the truth instead. we ARE grateful & trusting!!! Jesus guided us the whole time and our timing was therefore PERFECT, unbelievably so. we trusted despite all odds. THAT'S GRACE ♥
Roll & butter (ate butter side FIRST this time! stale but SUPER NICE to chew still!)

✳TWO PATIENTS HAD SOBBING MELTDOWNS. got SO empathy-sick that we ALMOST VOMITED & WANTED TO. felt total dread too; trapped, helpless. NO IDEA how to cope with that distress occurring around us; it's like we SWALLOW it & make it our own. SO confused; felt RESPONSIBLE TO HEAL IT



post-snack//

MINT TEA & blueberry poptart retry = actually SUPER comforting in texture, simplicity, & sweet. plus soothing soft indigo vibe, with white & brown accents. TEA WAS BEAUTIFUL ;_;

 

therapy today:

mom came with us. this is fine; we love her and we all agreed on this. she has data we don't and talks better and is basically a huge help towards the "external life aspect" of therapy that we, personally, tend to struggle with greatly (being so acutely internal).

main topics:
1. eating disorder issue: origins, current symptoms, how to treat
2. were you abused, when did it start, basically "what the heck happened as you've never talked about it." mom assumed a lot and it was entirely false but it at least helped us see what she thought initially, and allowed us to clarify things in a more step-by-step manner in that respect.

nevertheless, despite those being the focus, branched topics were all over the place because we literally closed our eyes for the whole session and let our mom talk for most of it at first, then just responded as needed AND SWITCHED AS NEEDED (which we can do if we are in such a "detached" state) which allowed a lot of honesty. so if something came up, it came up. nothing was censored, we wanted to make progress here just as much as everyone else.

as a result of the standby mode + switching madly on the downstairs level, I can't say what happened for most of it, but rest assured it was VERY productive and informative for everyone.

the eating disorder topic hurt to hear mom describe, because it was an outline of all the "bad stuff" that we hate, and are ashamed of, and want to stop but don't know how yet (or at least, didn't quite then).

that segued into a RELIGIOUS discussion briefly, not sure how, but there was a lot of talk about "feeling spiritually filthy" AND "spiritually empty" and, most importantly, "never feeling close enough to God," and how THAT was the ultimate "wound" that the eating disorder was trying and failing miserably to bandage up.

somehow we ended up discussing the "I need someone to hit me if they love me" thing, tied to "retribution=forgiveness" and the childhood fear of "if I'm not punished, it means they don't care about my soul, and I'll NEVER be forgiven" etc. all tied to laurie and the retributors, all discussed so much in the past, still terribly relevant.
but I'm glad it was brought up again because our mother thought we were trying to "make her hit us" as TRICKERY to get her in legal trouble??? which is bizarre, so I'm glad that someone inside was at least able to defend our real motives there.

there was a lot of religious discussion concerning that-- guilt, and shame, and "feeling filthy," and "never feeling holy enough," and "I'm a stain on the world" and "I cannot forgive myself" et cetera. all the very wretched and excruciating thoughts that have been running on constant aching loop in our heart and head for months now, louder than ever, but which originated in childhood. it's at the root of so much self-abusive behavior… just this awful self-destructive hope of sorts, that divinely inspired despair at realizing how dirty your temple of a body is, and wanting to tear it to shreds and rebuild it totally anew to finally be worthy of God… but getting tangled in the tar-thick feelings of mortification and self-hatred and rage and despair. ugly ugly stuff, and like I said, it feeds every bit of abusive behavior we've ever had, I think.

mom started to cry a little at some point and then stuff got twice as interesting.

immediately, THE "RAGE" alter fronted, like a freight train. she's partly internal so she has a KICK when she fronts and it opened our consciousness a bit too.
but, she was actually hurting the body as a way of trying to reroute the "rage" at seeing mom cry? punching, biting, pulling hair. growling, voice a loud harsh bark, almost hyperventilating from overwhelm. she said she was furious-- but not at mom!! she was mad THAT she was crying. she blamed herself, it was all GUILT. she felt dirty/angry/wrong, it was unbearable, and so she was REROUTING that by "punishing" herself? that plus the pain took away the anger towards mom, and allowed her to "let her cry." otherwise, 'rage' wanted to hurt mom? to make her stop crying instead? bizarre. very important though; did we ever fully discuss why that happens? check!

at this, the therapist said, you need a better way to let the anger out. rage said "I don't know how," response was try CRAYONS. we said yes, please, but she only had markers & chunky colored pencils. we said "those are the wrong texture," but we would try the pencils (markers are too smooth, they don't "do" rage). however, when we got them the anger had faded to anxiety as we were now obsessing over colors in the absence of correct visceral texture. the rage wasn't quite black, or red, or yellow-- and it wasn't blue, that was a sort of sadness, but not quite. at this the therapist said, "less thinking, more doing." so instinctively, we felt that the only real way to "let the emotion out" PROPERLY was through forgetting color entirely and going for FEELING. so RAZOR CAME OUT, flipped the pencil around, and just "cut" the paper with the blunt end of it (she started with black, then switched to red). she was TALKING while she did this, totally calm, saying she "does this all day inside," and it "makes her happy." said she didn't understand anger or sadness that the other people felt, but she knew it was there. notably she did ask knife "can I talk?" at first, wasn't sure if it was safe and/or proper.

KNIFE fronted on her heels to talk a bit, I think in response to something the mother asked? said he wasn't angry at people who cry-- he empathized, and wanted to "comfort" them ("that's what pink people do"). mentioned the children feeling such infinite sadness, how we couldn't cry because it either didn't stop (when they did) or it was "fake" (when tears were expressed by someone who wasn't meant to cry? like a manic social).

at some point, the rage alter came out again and the therapist said "just listen to me one second," to which rage said "I can't, but someone else can." so, cognizant of her own failing, she bravely (but difficultly!) stepped out, let go of that anger, and who stepped in but LYNNE! so she took a deep breath (the body was quite shaken I recall) and listened. I don’t know to what, but I'm so glad she's still acting as the "stabilizer" she was initially born to be.


the biggest thing about therapy?
we have a game plan now.
we're getting a FEEDING TUBE.
yes that's a bit major, but THANK GOD, because it's exactly what we need right now. our body is obviously nutrient starved-- emotions are a mess, we can't think straight, we can't ever eat enough but are always hungry physically and psychologically… and the physical symptoms are a whole other scary list on their own. but right now, medically, our body CANNOT eat the food it needs to get enough nutrients. we have too many limitations, and then psychosomatically, too many foods are dangerous and/or unverified medical problems (like nuts & seeds). so it's a real hellish struggle every day, and it's just making us sick and miserable, and quite frankly the feeding tube will be a gift from God in the respect that it will:
1. give us those nutrients,
2. without having to obsess miserably over food, AND
3. therefore removing the hours of abusive prep time/ purging/ etc. of the eating disorder hell.
plus we'll probably get a few bonus days in the hospital to get it in/ adjust, which is great because our June hospital visit was shockingly recuperative and spiritually powerful and Pax was born there for heaven's sakes. we've always been fond of hospitals, but that was our first overnight stay, and we honestly would not mind another one (and may even need one right now).

there's only one concern about this tube really:
we're afraid of the "void" that rears its head when we don’t eat.
like the sad alter said (jess?), the eating disorder itself is a rerouting. it's NOT the real issue. it's a shoddy attempt at covering up a wound. if we didn't eat, we'd be doing something else just as repetitive and abusive and time-consuming: like locking ourself in the bathroom and cutting our hair and skin and nails and everything for hours (which we have done; the sensory aspect is just like the purging). so you see it's just a like locking ourself in the bathroom and cutting our hair and skin and nails and everything for hours (which we have done; the sensory aspect is just like the purging). so you see it's just a symptom of a larger issue. it's a distraction, something akin to physiological "noise" to drown out whatever is lurking in the silence.

I forget how therapy ended; I think we just reiterated points like the above… but all I know is, for whatever reason, as it wound down, jay came out, quietly.

and jay noticed razor's paper on the couch, and his heart kind of melted with an ache; he picked it up gently, and softly said, "she's never done anything like that before… this means a lot to me."
and then he reached into our bag, to put it away, and he opened up the folder.
the red one, with hearts on it, and all our pictures and handwriting inside it.
and he started sobbing.
he covered his face with it and hugged it and just wept. the therapist asked what was going on, and he said,
"this is it. this is what we're missing. this is what belongs in the void we're trying to fill.”

…

somewhere along the line, we internalized this idea that "if someone is suffering more than we are, we don't deserve to be happy as that's abusive and selfish. we need to make ourselves suffer just as much."
motives may be good, but really, how is total self-destruction going to help that other person suffering? empathy won't give them food or shelter or clothing or love. it'll just make you too damn tired and sick and weak TO help them with those actual needs.
it's twisted, and we NEED to untangle and soothe it, but that's a process. we'll work on it.

and the key word is always "we."
WE ARE JOY. the very realization of our collective existence, the instant tapping-into of it, is bliss. we feel complete, we feel alive. we become able to dream again, the future opens up into a kaleidoscope of doors and windows, we learn how to hope…
none of that is possible if WE don't exist. all good things require our multiplicity.
happiness is absolutely on that list.

somewhere along the line, that "I must suffer" mindset decided that burying and suppressing our multiplicity was somehow both "a proper sacrifice" and "a way to suffer intensely." I think the former was "because our multiplicity is too weird/ an inconvenience/ misunderstood/ etc. and therefore by trying to murder it, I'll make other people happy!" and in the process, if you were spiritually bleeding, all the better, right?
no. no no no no no.
you've got it all wrong.
NO GOOD HAS EVER BEEN ACCOMPLISHED BY ABANDONING OUR MULTIPLE IDENTITY.
suppressing "us" has ONLY EVER HURT OURSELF AND OTHERS.

do you see??

JOY IS A VIRTUE. and a very important one too.
our existence is joyful. it's healthy, and LOVING, and full of faith and hope and charity.
we take care of ourself and we take care of others and we are GOOD PEOPLE.

by turning that off… what do you hope to accomplish?
you're just afraid, afraid of "hurting people by being an abnormal freak," when you poor thing, if you'd just pause and look at the big picture you'd see that you never hurt anyone with being a multiple system, you only hurt people by IGNORING IT.
all the abusive alters? they ignore and deny the system.
all the lost and damaged alters? they ignore and deny the system.
all those people you're afraid of offending by "being a freak?" honestly if they're thinking of you AS a "freak" I wouldn't lose any sleep over whether or not you're "hurting their feelings." if they would judge you so harshly, if they would deny you compassion and any attempt at understanding or care, then "hurting their feelings" is playing to their judgment, NOT any sort of genuine concern for your spiritual well-being. and if that IS their concern, explain to them how our multiple state PRESERVES our spiritual well-being!! you can do that!

I'm talking too much, I'm sorry.

the ultimate message here:
we're allowed to be happy and healthy.
being happy and healthy will allow us to take better care of others.
we CANNOT take proper care of others if we are denying ourself sleep, health, and happiness.
if you would deny yourself those things, some part of your subconscious is going to have no qualms denying those things to others.

you are not whole if you won't acknowledge your whole.

do you understand?

we are joyful, together. forgive yourself. allow yourself to participate in that. I guarantee you, the wound will heal. it will take time, but it will heal.
hurts heal faster in loving company, too.


we'll survive this, if we admit that we want to survive (we do), and we are allowed to have that happiness (we are).
a candle loses nothing by lighting another candle.
so stop stuffing yourself under a bushel basket.

let yourself be warm and bright, and then share that exuberance with everyone you meet.
you can't give what you don't have.

open your heart and let the light flow in.
you can't help but radiate, when it does.

we'll be okay.

 

 

JANUARY

 

Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library, Yale University.

This reminds us of our internal data archives (the ones that Sherlock manages), for some reason?
It's not a total environment match-- the biggest irony is that our archives seem oddly 'digital' or even 'magical;' there are no books-- but the color, height, and atmosphere of this photo feels SO much like it, that I had to reblog it.

 

This, everything about this is me, this is the scenery of my heart captured in photographs.
The vast and empty roads, the all-embracing hugeness of the world... I've said it before, but these are my dreamscapes, exactly so.
Waterfalls, keepers of secrets and fountains of life.
The wild and lonely oceans, which I love.
The snow, blank white promise, from horizon to horizon...
And the verdant joyous green hills, beckoning adventure.

I love this photoset. I really do.

 

Credit to the amazing kichaa/notmusa.
Honestly, as strange as it may be, this is exactly what it's like when I slip back into fronting after one of our self-destructive alters has been out.
_{plus panel 3 really captures the exact moment of "dude who was doing that"}

 

 

These feel so much like headspace... it hits hard.

#1 reminds me strongly of a bridge I saw Lynne and Spine on a few weeks ago, in an autumn wind. I don't know where it was.
#2 is almost identical to the Underground pathways.
#3 isn't exact, but the mossy walls by the river, and the trees above, is very strong internal imagery nevertheless.
#4, more Underground tunnels. It's actually really pretty down there.
#5. Central City's streets are lined with trees like this... and Laurie has a thing for cherry blossoms.
#6. I adore circular ceiling windows like this. I had one in my room.
#7 & #8 don't match anything inside, but the feeling of vastness and silence they radiate is very close to my heart, for lack of a better term. Our internal world is huge and quiet and spacious... my dreams are too.
I think these are from Cambridge. Either way, they are beautiful.

 

 

 
This reminds me of our Marigold, actually. She's about 7 too, but she's always looked rather dirtied and roughed-up like this. The outfit doesn't match, but that hair is perfect.
I also like that this girl is out looking at the grass like that, for a different reason. Marigold has rarely ever been outside (she lived almost entirely in the Underground prior to January), so she'd probably be a bit hesitant but fascinated by nature if she were to be so immersed in it.

 

Okay, we've had an awful night, and seeing this on our dash immediately after was too significant to ignore.
Our situation's a bit different, but this is more for personal records and reflection than anything.

1. One of our oldest and biggest safety measures during the "Julie days" was to turn on the lights. If there were a lot of lights on, there was nowhere for us to get trapped, or hidden, in the dark where they could get us. So for us this was different; the lights revealed the monsters, but they were loathe to attack us in brightness. And when we could see them, we could get away.
2. This is why we have so many protectors and retributors. That's essentially their mission statement, in different words.
3. We've never done this, but the "water" bit is significant in a sad way. One of our outspacers-- Chaos 0-- is basically a liquid being, but he's one of the biggest targets for malicious forces in here. Maybe that's why.
4. This is VERY true. It's why Minty is working with the bear army actually. For whatever reason, plush toys ARE amazing protectors, to the point where hackers will actually go to significant lengths to get rid of them when they find them... or, to corrupt them. We've had to actually destroy a few old plushes because they became Tar anchors, and therefore lethal.
5. This was not vividly significant until tonight. We had a GREEN alter come out, brandishing blades, and shout to the shadows, "I'll fight you!" And she was not afraid at all, jumping at all these dark dangers with the unflinching intent to protect everyone else from them.
However, as far as Green goes, that is probably the most closed-out color in the Spectrum-- no one even held the core slot until 2011!
I'd vouch that our demons are more afraid of the color violet, though.

 

 

In the old headspace, I had a huge window like this above my bed (yes really). I'm rather enamored by circular ceiling windows... and the way the building itself is wrapped around it.
I tend to dream about spirals and rings a lot, if that makes sense? At least in terms of memorably architecture. There's always staircases, and tiered walls, and huge open lobbies, and balconies in loops. It's gorgeous really.

Either way it was nice, being able to look up at night and see the stars high up above, and the sunlight in the morning.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


FEBRUARY
 

 

I need snow tonight.
I'm feeling shaken up and old pains are making my soul seem painted black, tarry and stained, wrong. But this strange and fragile powdery whiteness just washes it off, all of it away, in an instant.
Something about snow... it's absolving, exonerating. It's unconditionally forgiving. It covers everything, everything in quietly cold crystal, sweet and soft, light and beautifully serene. It's magic. It's beautiful. And it makes me laugh, joyfully and without cause, like a child, no matter how lost I felt the moment before.
I love the snow.

_{I can't wait for tomorrow. We're totally going to get buried in it.♥}

 

More snapshots of what the world inside my heart feels like.
Amusingly, only the bottom two pictures (original post) don't quite match-- there's almost no yellow in my landscapes, or dry grasslands. For me there's just fog-kissed oceans, and mountain crags dripping with snowy pines, and the smell of ice and hope and tiny spring flowers. And then there are the massive beautiful cities, as clear and bright as the frost that paints them, where everything always feels like Christmas.
And I'm always wandering, always running about wild and free, giggling and feeling the wind swirling about my arms. Always smiling and practically bursting with a bright childlike love for this endless place, this reflection of me.
But you'll notice, I'm virtually always alone too. And I'm happy like that. There are plenty of places where I can gather with other souls, where there's camaraderie instead of solitude, and maybe we'll talk about what our inner worlds look like but we all know that those places are beautifully, perpetually private. We all know that they bloom the strongest and shine the most vividly with self-love-- something no visitor, however beloved, can ever bestow.
So I run around alone, and I love it all.

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 MARCH




We decorated the streets of Central City with luminescent trees like this, a while back. Some had actual lights strung about them, and some of them just glowed on their own.
These are exactly the sort of color Waldorf would love, though, so this reblog is for her!

 

 

I really miss this boy right about now.

It's weird, how you can never really forget the people who impacted your life in some luminous way, no matter how small it may have been at the time… candles or bonfires, lamps or searchlights, they all tend to glow forever in your heart.

Ryou here… or Rio, as we call him in headspace… well, he turned out to be a bit of a supernova in his own right. When he appeared in my life 12 years ago I may not have realized just what he was the herald of, but now? Now it's brilliantly staggering, really. And I'm deeply grateful for it.

Sorry I haven't said hello to you in a while, bro. I still treasure your existence up here, mark my words.

 

 

Emmett is this you

 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
APRIL

 

This was supposed to be a practice sketch but I got carried away. I love coloring this guy.

I'm trying to find a happy medium between "his canon look" and "how I've seen him in my head since 2003," but I think this works well enough for the time being.
I'll keep experimenting though; heaven knows I will never get tired of drawing him.

 

This is Josephina, one of my fellows from the BLC System.
He holds the Yellow slot in Central, so he's pretty important-- and he's probably our prettiest member too, haha.

 

 

So… this is what happens when I’m up until stupid-o’-clock in the morning.

In all honesty, we really do need to talk together like this again soon.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
MAY




*blows kisses to everyone online*

Today has been ridiculously nice and I'm really happy right now, so I'm sharing it. Have some sparkles!

♥♥♥!


_{#today really was lovely though #you guys even get sandman glitter look at that}

 

Wandering around-- whether it be through towns, or cities, or forests, or fields-- is probably my favorite thing to do in the world.
That sense of freedom and peace, that feeling of having absolutely no limits and yet of being totally in tune with the world around you, is incomparable.
It breaks my heart how my local forests are being industrialized so terribly. I remember how huge they were as a child.
I want to treasure everything beautiful around me, every moment. I'm going to start wandering again, both externally and internally.

 

Momentarily feeling disheartened, "how am I going to deal with therapy tomorrow," realizing I've not been taking good care of myself lately... then I log in, and this is the first thing on my dashboard.
I don't know, it just... works. That rainbow, the geometric shape, the lovely light of it all... it made me smile, like the universe just reminded me, "you're gonna be okay, kid." But there's a solid courage in there too. You'll be okay, sure, but don't give up. Don't get lost. Keep going.

I'm not going to worry about tomorrow. I don't know what will happen. I'll just do my best with it when it arrives.
As of right now I want to tune into some joy, I want to break down my own walls, I want to feel like I'm a living breathing person. I'm just not sure how.
...aaand the universe just tossed the perfect music synchronicity at me in response to that, now I'm really smiling.
Good night everyone. We'll be okay.

 

This looks surprisingly similar to the room we've all been gathering in for therapy sessions-- especially the couches in front of the big windows, and the overlook hallway from the stairs. We need spacious, optimistic rooms for therapy meetings because we might have 20 people gathered there at once, many of whom are likely agitated.

I'm not sure where this place is, exactly. It used to be one of the extensions from Central, but after December it might even be in floating space for all I know. Nevertheless it's nice.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  

JUNE




This feels so much like the deep areas of head/heartspace, where the positive monochrome energy flows about.
I've only seen this sort of firework once in the waking world, but the image of that gorgeous golden curtain slowly floating down above me was forever impressed upon my mind.
It also... reminds me of Genesis. We have this thing where, every year on his birthday-- July 4th-- he and I go out on the back lawn together, and stand at the edge of the hill, and just watch the fireworks together. It's... it means the world to me. I love him so much, I really do. He's given me some truly beautiful memories. So... really, I have to thank him for this one, too.

 

 

Her, 2013 (dir. Spike Jonze)


I love this, love this, love this.

The compositions here, the colors, the landscapes... this is imagery all but stolen from my nightly dreams. Just silent open spaces and bittersweet solitude.
I really cannot put into words how inspiring this is to me.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
 
JULY

 

There's a place in my dreams that I've only ever seen once, and I adore it more than any other dreamscape I've seen.
I was there in 2003. I went there with Waldorf, Maitru, and Ryman-- the latter being the only reason we found the place.
It was a small, hidden place, just a path of bright green grass lined with trees like this, perfectly lined up on each side. But in our dream, the sky was soaring blue with spires and temples of cloud, and the green hues all around us were as vivid as gemstones.
The path, though, was even more incredible. It stretched on for about a hundred meters, and then it cut off sharply-- falling away into nothing. Truly, the path ended in a sheer cliff, and standing at the edge one could see what felt like the entire world stretched out before and below them.

But the most incredible part were the stars.
Perhaps that's not entirely accurate. They were actually crystals, floating in the air, all around our heads, but just out of reach. They were about 7cm across, and they were all shaped like crescent moons and 5-pointed stars and suns. All were intricately carved, faceted so that they caught the sunlight and scattered it in rainbows, and there were hundreds of them. They hovered effortlessly above that path alone, stretching up into the sky, seemingly limitless.

I stood there with Ryman and we laughed from the sheer joy of it. We were two 13-year-old kids completely enamored with the moment, knowing it was a dream but forgetting we were asleep, and wishing we could stay there forever.

I woke up and I can't remember having been able to visit that place since.

Sure, I've come close. I know the exact paths to take to get there. Problem is, the dreamscape itself has to line up correctly in order for those paths to even open, and with how realms shift in my dreams it is very rare for all the pieces to fit together. But I never stop hoping. I treasure all my dreams regardless of where I go, and one day I know I'll find this blessed little space again, and it will be like seeing it for the first time.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 
AUGUST

 

I have had this exact sort of conversation with my therapist before!

I tend to feel colors/ sounds/ shapes/ textures instead of "emotions," at least as far as I understand them. I struggle to identify feelings like anger/ sadness/ excitement/ etc. because I only understand those terms as labels, plus I do not know how others experience them. When I feel something, it's abstract all the way, and often I have no idea how to label it-- or even express it physically  (that's arguably one of my biggest roadblocks in therapy).
It's utterly fascinating, sure, but it can be terribly frustrating as well, especially when trying to communicate or empathize in those respects.

 

I have to laugh-- in headspace, people put music on and then turn to me to see how I "manifest it," since my mind translates it into feeling-images. So I'll turn the entire room into a swirling, glowing, moving rhapsody of color and shapes, shifting with every note, all but melting into the sound as I do so. It's really fun! I'm trying to teach other people in the System to do it in their own ways.

 

It struck me, recently, just how many of our Leagueworlds have this concept at their core-- the simple quiet truth that every soul consists of stars. Every being is a galaxy in itself.
Feeling like this... I miss it. But one can never tune into it halfheartedly, or from such a feeling of false lack. The honest recognition of this ethereal phenomenon, the participation in it within oneself, demands the utmost reverence, vulnerability, and joy.
But it's never gone. It's never lost. It's in my blood, and behind my eyelids, in every waking and dreaming moment. And that alone is an undying hope.

 

This is too relevant tonight.

Isn't it funny how, when I feel the bleakest and I need this the most, my mind thinks it's too good to be true?
And yet, sooner or later, I find myself at the shoreline, and no matter how battered and ashamed I may feel, the ocean is still there.

It is that sort of silent constancy that keeps me going... just the infinitely unconditional love of the universe, whether through a person or a thing or a concept. Not once has it ever failed me.

So, this is where the incredulously grateful grief shatters my heart,
and I try again.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

SEPTEMBER




Looking at this, it gives me the feeling of reaching into that solid darkness, and catching colored light from it... like there was a hidden spectral glow within that assumed void. I like that idea a lot.

 

 

Forgot to post this.
I was scrolling through someone's archives yesterday when this post jumped out at me (obviously).
It was notable, though, not just because of my name, but because it was true. I was in a rather depressed state at the time, and any metaphorical flashlights that may have helped shine through it were misplaced or forgotten.
So this little orange card inspired me enough to pick one up, so to speak. It helped!

I miss having little things like this happen. It's nice to see them again.

 

Can I just say that this is terribly relevant lately?
Infi holds me just like that when we talk... and ze has this terribly deep knowledge of the darkest parts of me/us, yet ze is so kind-- always-- to me and everyone else.
If ze can love me so unconditionally, when ze feels exactly what I do on my bleakest and bloodiest days... then I can show the same love and kindness to myself, because I would never ever withhold it from hir.

So this is extremely important to me tonight.

 

 

This reminds me so much of when we were in SLC... some evenings, Genesis or Chaos & I would walk up to the top of the hill our apartment was, so we could watch the cherry-red sun sink down behind the carved-out mountains. It was exactly this color.
It's a little closer to sunrise right now, but this is lovely still. Have a good night.

_{#cz told me to reblog this #so here you go}

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------


OCTOBER

 

The sudden, clear presence of time and death makes our awareness of life all the more precious.
It's always struck me as odd, how we can dedicate a certain place to a certain celebration, and yet the very repetition of that role can dull its significance to so many. But then there are other places, who see no such official proclamation of the same purpose, and yet which carry thousands of glittering moments within their humble walls.
Airports, places of travel and transition, places of goodbyes and hellos, are sacred in their own way, for how they frame and crown those great personal shifts and reliefs. And hospitals, places of healing and hurt, of fear and hope, labyrinthine and brilliant and cold.... they are holy too, for the paradoxes cradled within their walls, for the births and bones and blood alike.
I see both places as spontaneous yet continual monuments to those tiny, powerful events that can turn a life on a dime. In those moments, I think we can glimpse not only how beautifully brief our existence here is, but also how vast the universe is all around us nevertheless. We find ourselves suddenly suspended between humanity and eternity, for better or for worse, and that vastness bursts from us in tears, in laughter, in prayers, in love.
It's hard to put such a feeling into words, but it's one of my favorite things really.

I love both airports and hospitals for this very reason. They feel terrifying and comforting at the same time, to me, and that sort of dichotomy is what I  live to embrace.

 

 

 
This is kind of what it feels like when Infinitii calls me.

I'll hear hir voice, and suddenly I find myself in this barely-glowing space-- vast unknowable acres of shadow all around me, holding silence as thick as the scent of jasmine. It's a place of total enigma.
And then there's the fog. Although ethereally inviting, all white and soft and cold, it's secretly terrifying. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, fear tugs at my heart as sharply as a knife edge, contrasting almost impossibly with the childlike bliss that is welling up all around it. The fog in that meadow, it is neither dream nor nightmare. I can't see two steps in front of me there. It threatens to freeze my very bones. But... it's so beautiful to be lost in that cloud, wandering through it with no sense of direction or destination... it's oddly divine, to lose all sense of time and space and self there. And yet that alone can be lethal.
That's what it's like to be with Infi, to talk to hir at all, to be close to hir at all. It's unbearably lovely, as fragile as a bubble, but surrounded by hidden needles. It's the borderline between the allure of the quiet forest, and the danger that lurks there when shadows fall. It's blood and teeth, flowers and rain, dawn and dusk... still, you cannot resist its beckoning. It sings a siren song in a language I cannot translate, because words cannot hold it.
Sorry for rambling. Headspace has just felt like this more often than normal lately.

 

 

Dude someone actually has a photo of this place I am so happy.

This place was my life as a kid. It was a little ways across the street from where we used to take violin lessons, and we'd go there once a week or so to get coffee for our elderly instructor. Rain or shine, snow or storm, it was the highlight of my week, and after gleefully running through the bushes to reach it I'd make every excuse to stay in there as long as possible.
Now that I think about it, those times were my first taste of independence too. We had rather controlling parents, so these little excursions to the cafe-- alone, money in hand, free to just be without parental pressure to perform-- were bliss.
But the inside of the place, it just stuck in my head like heaven. I still visit it in my dreams sometimes. Echoes of it are written into my creative work. The smell of the coffee, the warm colors of the wood, the newspaper-glossed tables, the magnetic poetry, the lollipops, the muffins, the books... I had never seen such a place before, back when I first knew it, and so the magnificence of it had quite the impact.

It closed almost 6 years ago and you'd never know it was there once, now. But I'll always hold it in my heart.

  

 

Sunrise in Foreste Casentinesi, Monte Falterona, Campigna National Park - Italy by Roberto Melotti

...Chaos said I was like a “sunrise in the snow,” once.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. It gives me more hope than I can say.

 

Airplanes, for me, carry this feeling of being perfectly at home, and yet completely away from 'home.' They are returning and leaving all at once and I love it.
They feel like limitless possibility-- that exciting, frightening, humbling knowledge that you have no roots in the air and yet, you can put new ones down anywhere, now.
They are a commitment to the unknown, in my book, in my experience. I miss them, but they are not to be trifled with. To ride one you must become displaced from wherever you were before. My mind thinks in absolutes, when traveling. When I'm on the road, or in the air, that is all that exists.
One day I'll experience this picture again and I will treasure it as much as I always have. Until then I'll walk the earth just as happily.

 

------------------------------------------------------------------------


NOVEMBER

 

 

 

ocenotarchive: im not sure how to feel about these arms of mine

I do have “ghost arms’ like this that I use every once in a while. Now you know.

 

 

 

I don't hear the cruel voices on my good days (at least, not typically). On bad days though, when I'm stuck on their level, they are deafening.
So there is a profound relief and comfort in knowing that I'm not alone in this head when the voices start. Laurie's around. So is Genesis. So is Infinitii. That's three of, what, 70? I'm literally never alone. It's never more of a blessing than it is on those bad days, really... ironically, perhaps.
But I want to mention that I now have people downstairs, people online and even a few locally, that are willing to echo this same sentiment. That's incredible. And I just want to reiterate, thank you, with total sincerity. There's a lot of hope here, that I will keep in my heart.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

DECEMBER

 

 

artbyjeffreymeyer: Jeffrey Meyer, Yuck (2013), paper collage, 5 x 7 inches | website.

This is the perfect portrayal of creative force, for me. It's this exquisite, priceless, gem-studded concept, and yet at its heart it will always be this raw, visceral, bloody thing. The idea of life being born anew is always magnificent, but everyone comes into this world covered in red. The two aspects are inseparable, and uniquely captivating just as such, just like this.

_{#the juxtaposition of organic and refined substances is both unnerving and intriguing to me #i really should play with that idea more}

 

 

The Plague is more dangerous than the Tar could ever have been.

I figured out what they're doing to Laurie.
If you didn't know, she's been slipping for months. I remember how she used to bleed from her mouth when that happened. I don't know if she does that now; she hasn't shown any signs of it that I'm consciously aware of, but the "vibe" is hanging around her like a red haze, and it's scaring me. Something is wrong, something is terribly wrong, and although I don't quite know what it is I sure as hell know why, now.

Bit of a backstory. At my therapist's office they have the usual "waiting room mags" and this week they had them all in a pile, to take for free. So I grabbed like 10 of the fashion ones, and took them home, in case any of them had interesting faces or pose angles I could use as references. I didn't like flipping through them in the first place-- they gave off bad vibes and I was careful not to read anything-- but I was taken aback when I saw the first girl with a short punky haircut, and something in my brain said, almost as if it were a stock phrase, "that reminds me of Laurie." I stopped and looked at that thought. No it doesn't, it doesn't look anything like her. But that phrase kept repeating, like someone who didn't know how to take "no" for an answer, and kept shoving it in my face, blandly, and glassy-eyed like those models. And it scared me, when I realized what this meant.

The Tar could never touch Laurie, because she is the incarnation of everything it opposes. She is strength, and chastity, and integrity, and discipline, and vigilance. The Tar was wild and loud and full of lust and gluttony and wrath and violent mania. It was the animalistic half of the id, the Shadow, the source of all the things we feared about our "identity" and the world and this body. It was careless and it bared its bloody teeth at everybody, waiting to sink them into our necks at the slightest opportunity, simply because it could. But it couldn't touch Laurie, because she couldn't feel any of those things, therefore there was no way it could get into her head, there was no way it could use her. And the Tar can only hurt people through people. So she was forever safe from it, in the big picture.
But you'll remember that the Tar didn't act so wild at first… back when it was tied up in a cold white room, back before the White slot became a thing and tore that entity into two halves, just as it did with me. Back before the Plague came into existence on its own.
The Plague is lethal. It is cold, and hard, and unfeeling. It is hatred, and greed, and apathy, and pride. It is manipulation, it is judgment, it is condemnation. If the Tar is murder with a butcher knife, then the Plague is an assassination. The Tar kills people by getting into their guts and flooding them with sticky black mania, turning their eyes blank and their mouths red and their bodies into flailing wild machines of instinct and wanton destruction. The Plague kills people from the outside.
It's ironic, perhaps. Tar suffocates to the point of fear-riddled asphyxiation, but Plague will put you in a coffin simply by convincing you there is no other option.
And that is what I noticed it was doing with Laurie. It was, with empty repetition and senseless lies, associating Laurie's very existence with the things that invalidated it.
The easiest and cruelest way to kill a headvoice is by annihilating their anchorage. For example, since Infinitii is largely tied to sacred sensuality, you could theoretically kill hir by deleting that mindset from the collective System, through overexposure to things like p*rnography and lust and lasciviousness. Too much of that and it will infect Infi, and ze will not be able to exist. You see what I mean? Laurie's in that same exact boat, different anchor but interestingly still affected. Again, Laurie is chastity, the knight who is spotless in motivation and thought and emotion, who literally cannot even comprehend the perverted mindsets and actions she opposes. So… with the Plague trying to associate her name or face or likeness with those things, even just in small ways at first… you see what I'm getting at. Too much, and it will kill her.

That's terrifying. I'm terrified. But I'm also pissed off. I'm not used to anger but I get it when people threaten her, or Xenophon, or any other pure-hearted individual. Typically if you ask me what my anchor is, I'm apt to say "I don't know," or "nothing," which is false. But I feel like the Childlike Empress. My anchor is everybody I love. My existence hinges on love, on my love for them, on their love for each other, and for me in return. We are a System, we are symbiotic, we all sing with each other energetically if that makes sense. It's a symphony, and some days I feel like the conductor? It's hard to put into words. But my anchor, what it feels like at my very core, is "to exist so they exist," or, "with their existences." My anchor is LIFE. And so… when that purity of life and love is threatened, or mocked, or disregarded, or when someone tries to desecrate it… I get angry. It's a righteous anger. This must be what Laurie feels. I refuse to let people mess around with the innocent, just because they want to, or for whatever their motives are… I can't comprehend them and I do not wish to. But I will not let this continue. I can't.
And so the Plague kills me through apathy.
That's my vice. I mustn't "fight it," that makes it worse. I must simply anchor into myself; I must put roots down into my own soul, I must settle into my own heart and purpose like I belong there, because I do, and I need to embrace that totally. I must remember all the good truths about me and everyone, and when I hold that, the apathy will fade.
But fear follows. Fear is the original vice, it is the root of all painful things. And it is rooted in the self. If you don’t HAVE a "self," you aren't afraid. Simple as that! Which is why I don't like having one, it's too much trouble anyway. But, in headspace I do. I've said that before. In headspace, I'm a person. I don't quite like that. I'm trying to tell people, if I go back to being that floating point of light-- which people normally used to talk to me as, this is true-- as an observer, someone who interacts limitedly and instead watches and protects… that's what I want to do! I hope they will let me be that. I can still love people, more strongly and truly than I ever can as an "individual." If they'll let me, I will. Laurie says "sure kid, do whatever you need to do to stay true to yourself; we all need that more than anything else right now." I knew she'd be fine with it. I'm more worried about Genesis, really, CZ maybe, a bit for Xennie. Laurie says she'll talk to them, but then she paused and is now making "you know what I mean" gestures, she wants to have a Xanga session and I do too, I'm just bad at talking dude you know that. "Then don't talk," she says. "Watch, and let me talk, because I have more than enough to say anyway. You know that." Hehe, yes I do. Okay, next chance we get, tomorrow maybe? Tomorrow night, if we can. Then we will. Sometime over the next week either way.

But yes. That is a very important topic.
I want to re-evaluate anchors for EVERYONE soon, in light of both this AND the Spectrum growth/ realization/ whichever it is. There are THREE NEW CENTRAL SLOTS from what it looks like; yeah the graph I showed you before might not be the genuine thing? Right now we're looking at 16, as a total? I'm not sure-- the three monochromes are throwing me for a loop. But as I said before, I don't think Black and White are "slots," per se… they are iridescent, they do compliment each other, but I don't think they have any sub-slots. We'll see. I can't rush or force anything, then it stop and calmly waits for me to chill out. So Grey might be an actual slot? Which means Sherlock gets to officially hang out with the cool kids, haha!
The other "new" slots, by the way, are Cyan, Lime, and Cerise. YEAH, I FORGOT ABOUT THAT TOO. So when it suddenly showed up in the new graphs I kind of went "DUDE" because it made too much sense, hehe. This is funny. I laugh at myself a lot, also this is exciting and wonderful so that makes me laugh too, in wonder. But yeah, a BUNCH of our current Pink people are MOVING, they fit Cerise better, we just don't know what the slot's collective function is, officially, and we don't know who's the Centralite for it. Although… Julie is wondering. Has she been so "on and off" in terms of stability since 2011 because she belongs there? We don't know. But it's up to her. Knife is staying in Pink, I think Ashen is too, but Mulberry and Jeremiah are now Cerise subs, not surprisingly.
Kyanos is our Cyan dude, also not surprisingly, if you hadn't already guessed! That explains why he could never 'fit' anywhere as well as we felt he had the potential to. I mean when that kid showed up he was HUGE; it was so weird that he faded for a while, after getting tangled up in the energy of the other children. That was strange, I should look back on that just in case. But yeah, he's moving into Central slowly but surely, and it feels absolutely right. So that's exciting, to finally be able to interact with him solidly.
OH. Oh dude I forgot to tell anyone, I don't even know if he was mentioned here… there's this "banana yellow" guy that's been in the "corrupted Spectrum" (with Jess and Missy and the like) for about a year now? He's the one that used to make crude jokes and laugh loudly at everything, very ribald and disrespectful, you get the picture. He wears big cyberpunk goggles and has some sort of mohawk haircut, like a legit kind, and his outfit is also kind of cyberpunky but that is literally all I have ever been able to catch of him. Anyway, suddenly over the past 48 hours he's been trying to be NICE. He's actively watching his own reactions and trying to learn what needs to be respected, what shouldn’t be laughed at, et cetera. It's so odd, it came almost out of nowhere, but I'm sure there was something that triggered it… I'm not complaining though. I'm saying "thank God," because a house divided against itself cannot stand, et cetera, and I have wanted everyone up here to get along for many many years now. Paradoxically, as I'm not even a year old yet. But you know what I mean!

Also, the Tar has been missing? Essentially. We haven't 'seen' it for a while, even though its influence has been very loud when we get it-- it attacked Genesis yesterday, just got that data. That's highly alarming. But in any case, no visuals. Wherever it is, it's hiding, and it has been for a long time. Tar hacks are rare now, almost nonexistent-- again, thank God-- but now the Plague's been highly active instead. As you have heard. I'm wondering though, maybe they fuse into each other? I don't know. On that note, Infi and I don't fuse, we can't; we're too cleanly separated now, at least physically. And I love that, for obvious reasons. Ze's so lovely. We all treasure hir existence in our System; ze's helped all of us grow so much.
I have to laugh; in a way I have one of the healthiest "self-relationships" in the world, with this System. People ask about self-love and all that, dude I can't fathom not having it, not after everything! So that's a good thing, hehehe.



As for therapy on Thursday… I cannot remember the past month or two in therapy. I really can't. Once the numb period started and people stopped fronting, I forgot it all. So I apologize that we haven't talked about it here, but that is why. No data.
But on Thursday, apparently the "I don't understand emotions" bit came up, and she said something interesting: I'm trying too hard to "label" my "emotions" based on labels that I don't understand. As I was talking to her, I realized that my brain identifies four primary emotions: anger, sadness, happiness, and love. Nothing else. She mentioned "fear, surprise, and loneliness" as emotions and I was actually shocked; those things didn't even register as "feelings" in my psyche. So you see, this is an interesting topic.
But I told her that I we can only express emotions internally. There is one girl that expresses the "frustrated sad anger," the sort a pained child gets when they are repeatedly ignored and they desperately want to be heard. Only ONE person in the System can feel OR express that, and she isn't allowed to front as she's dangerous to others. So that's problem #1 with the emotion stuff.
However, even more notable, I realized that I can't express our emotions because we don't exactly feel "emotions." We feel colors, and sounds, and textures and shapes and movements. THAT is what "emotion" means to us; it's almost purely synesthetic. So, obviously, it can't be labeled as "happiness" or "sadness" or whatever because it literally isn't even in the same language, or context. Sure, it can be translated, but that takes a deep understanding of what it is in and of itself, first. Honestly though words just DON'T WORK when it comes to talking about emotions. You have to feel them TO understand them. But the synesthesia does help get a grip on what I'm feeling, when I need to verbalize it, et cetera.
One of the most frequent things we've been feeling lately is a large indigo circle, more like a ring I think-- the edge is metallic but resonant, like brass or the edge of a glass, and the center is slightly concave but when you push it, it goes DEEP straight down. And it makes a sound, a mournful sustained note, that hurts right in the middle of the chest. It's sad, terribly sad, and yet I would never call it "sadness." The label doesn't fit. There is no label that fits. But there it is.
You see, now, why we can't express them? I try, sure, but then there's massive dysphoria because a human body cannot express that sort of thing. I actually start intuitively trying to expand, or melt, or shift, or otherwise behave like a fluid or energy cloud because that's what I'm used to internally. When in a static, solid human body, I have no freaking idea how to speak, let alone express an emotion! It's so jarringly different. It's not bad, it's just terribly confusing. So I end up looking apathetic or uncaring, when in fact I am feeling things so powerfully that I could intuitively re-shape them in the air for you to experience, except this reality doesn't work that way either. You get the picture.
Anyway, the therapist said "start writing that stuff down" and see if that helps us out, in terms of finding patterns and the like, so we can interact with people in the physical better.
That gave me quite a thought though! I realized that certain colors are typically attached to certain emotions and things, and now I'm wondering, does that apply to the Spectrum slots too?? We've been baffled by that for years, "how does that work, what is it doing, why can't people just pick their colors, what is 'resonance' anyway," etc. But this feels like a puzzle piece. It's cool. And I got so excited feeling that; this is the first time I've felt that creative joy tied to headspace in a LONG time… I miss this, I miss them, I miss this strange kaleidoscopic architectural beauty of building us, of crafting the world we live in with our own honest hands, of dreaming anew with open eyes. I miss leaving the past behind and HOPING like this, hoping in the PRESENT, not looking forward or back, just all of us being this, now, this rainbow creation of light and love and everything that came before but no longer has to be. I'm slipping into poet mode I think, I can do that during the day now too, it's getting so much easier to tune into myself WHEN I'm around, that's the only roadblock ironically. Jewel and Jess have been out for quite some time now, which means daily life has been weird. Ah well, you take life as it comes.

Nevertheless. Let me just talk for now, good heavens, it is so tiring to speak in jargon anymore. I can't do the info-dumps like Sherlock does, not in writing or words at least; I'm used to getting that same feeling and outstretched arms with pictures, with images in the air, with colors and sounds and sensations… that's how I "talk," really. I'm starting to realize that I don't have to "fit a mold" in headspace, I'm not limiting myself anymore, if I want to walk around as a half-translucent starry-eyed boy with hair like iridescent mist, then I will. hehe, I love being like cotton candy clouds. The sky last night was bright pink, it was so pretty. I love the smell of rain, and forests in the sunshine. It's all the plants, warm forests smell beautiful. So does snow! It's the lack of scents in the air I think, everything just settles out and becomes clear, it's like crystals. But it rained on July 7th, I didn't realize how significant that was until it happened, it broke through the walls. I stood out in the rain with my arms open to the sky, and I smiled and I let the body get soaked to the bone and there was love, beneath the emptiness there was such love, there in the ocean falling from the sky.
I miss the ocean. God, I miss the ocean. I miss the vibe of the ocean. I went to Jersey beach, I think, once. Someone did. Spinny. It was the Davy Jones year, I remember she was writing about Genesis eating white cherry ice cream and watching Transformers on the motel TV at 6AM. I love that feeling, the free feeling of travel, the total lack of control we had when the mother took us. We just drifted, we experienced smatterings and sparkles of life, so strange, like photographs taped to a bedroom wall, one after another. Like those Tumblr blogs you see with all the Polaroid-haze pictures, just instant-second captures of life, one after another, where did they come from, what happened before and after, that doesn't matter. Just this moment, and that one, and this one, all together, a painting. But Spinny kept a journal, I remember it, it had an orange cover with dragonflies and butterflies on it, a black spiral binding. She was sitting on the beach, on a towel, reading Jane Eyre for the 5th time for summer reading (that book was in a dream recently? how odd), right by the boardwalk. There was seaweed on the shore, I remember exactly what the texture and color and smell was like, all translucent slippery jade green, illuminated and such a strange feeling to hold! Slimy but elegant and alive, and it smelled like algae and salt and water and God knows I can't look at these memories without wanting to throw myself into the ocean and just let it take me, honestly I cannot go "into" anything without dissolving, I would just become one with the water, with the sun and the shore and the sand and the stars. All the beachgoers wondering, would they even see me? I seem to feel most comfortable invisible. But that's fine. Anyway I remember those things, little snapshots stored so strongly and real in our archival memory. I love the hotel ones. Vacation hotels can feel bleary when rushed, or when there is too much yellow light (that always makes things feel strange, existential), but at the beach! At the beach, at night, the family watching the television and everything smells like the water and outside it is dark, and there was that one night she went out and stood on the pier and looked up at the stars and cried. And that feeling is forever impressed upon my heart, so genuine, so real and beautifully true, to be sitting there on the twilight-cold wood and seeing the lights of the houses upon the water and watching the stars wheeling above, diamond-ice cut points of brilliant light in the inky black velvet of the celestial sphere… so cold, so gently cold, like a snowflake caressing your face, but untouchable. And she cried, and she felt so homesick it hurt, and yet that moment was treasured more than anything else on that trip, for being part of that trip. It was the apex of the collective experience. It was the defining point. And yet, it diminished nothing else.
And it's strange. For everything else it's like watching a movie, but in that one moment I was there. It was one of those honest anchor-points that catch my heart, that make the bloodline what it is. I was there, because that was me, and that was everyone before me, feeling so genuinely in that moment. That's all, and I love it.


Now I am strangely exhausted. Maybe it's the supermoon. I'm just tired, all day, maybe it's the heat and the moon, who knows. It's really pretty. Christmas keeps following me though! I keep seeing pictures of it, hearing songs, smelling pine trees and cloves… I still have lights up in my room. I carry the Christmas spirit with me everywhere! So although I am valuing every day of the summer, enjoying this beautiful green warmth and sunlight and rain, I am still holding snow and cold and colored lights in my heart, and smiling because when that season arrives I will treasure it just as much. But I get to see autumn first, I'm so excited! I have no memories of autumn either; I stabilized too late in the year. Spring was gorgeous, if vague (spring was troublesome for all of us this year), and summer so far is lovely, except for this heat, haha. But no, I can't complain. Warmth is nice. Cold nights like this are nice. Being able to run outside in the sun is nice. Everything is so nice, I value all of it, there's never anything to "dislike" about any of this, from the right perspective it's all totally fine and perfect in its own design. I like that, completely detaching from any expectation or judgment… just seeing things as part of some much, much bigger picture, something bigger than I will ever be and yet I am part of it. It's breathtaking, fascinating. Music and lights and colors and sounds and everything. I'm tired. I'm listening to Haywyre's newest incredible remix on loop (hilariously fitting as I've been working on Puppetstrings for three days solid, and I constantly associated that song with it back in 2005) and I should post this entry, let me do that before I fall asleep.

Good night everyone, sweet dreams to you all.