#bipped

i get frustrated at the slightest indication things are not going the way i planned

my plans are not flawless, nor should i hope for them to be

flawlessness is unattainable

there are things i cannot anticipate

failure is another way to say try again until you get what you want

i need a new place to make new friends

i hate putting forth the effort to subject myself to new places and people for potentially no return; very few people around here are like me and i don't want to be friends with people whose main interests are cows and jesus

maybe i'm the closed-minded one but i've been hurt a lot by people like that, and people who only want to talk to me because they're afraid (or delighted!) i'm going to hell bore me besides

i miss 2011-2014 tumblr so much but i can never go back to that time; sure i miss being interested in fandom and writing novellas and putting out as much bad art as my little hands could scribble

but i also miss the feeling of validation i got from letting people abuse me, so

i'm afraid i'm not who i used to be, and i don't know if that's good or bad; i was a child then, after all, and now i'm an adult. it's natural to develop new interests and even get tired of the things you used to like

i've always been afraid of that blank page, never had a plan past high school; thinking about the future makes me very worried and i didn't have the skills as a child to cope with that at all

even now it's hard to think for myself and decide what i believe does the least amount of bad to the greatest number of people

instead i relied on the opinions and thoughts of others

i've idolized people for so long who hurt me, yet whose opinions i never questioned

so i have no idea what to think any more

it's so hard to make all this up as i go along, to fake it until i may or may not make it

it feels like no matter who i share my feelings and art with it's all still useless, no one really pays attention to me because they want to, except the one person i feel the need to respect and try hard for

i don't even like paying attention to myself, i feel lazy and week and spoiled most of the time. who would want to hang out with someone who only whines and expects other people to take care of them

i don't feel entitled to anyone's kindness but i need it, literally need it, to survive

though i'd like to aim for more than just surviving, i'd like to be happy and productive

i want to make useless pretty things, because i can, because it amuses me

i want to work hard but not at the paltry pickings this place offers; i want to be motivated

this town is so stifling

writing it down helps, and i want to sell my writing and entertain people, but there seems so little to write about in a town that doesn't occupy my mind, it's too free to wander and worry

i let myself drift too much

i think writing helps bring me back and tie me to something, even if i disappear into that little white box on the page for a while at least i'm still thinking only of a specific string of words and not of the endless thousands of possibilities that my mind could run through

anyway writing helps the time pass a lot faster, and that's when i really feel more at ease; knowing the more patient i am the easier it will be