Mar 18
Singular funny interaction I get per year that can b made into postable content
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Singular funny interaction I get per year that can b made into postable content
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Iāve known this guy for well over eight years now, he has consistently called me his best friend for the entirety of that time, Iāve never doubted that he does in fact experience what he calls Love for me (platonic), and Iāve heard his whole life story like thirty times over by this point. He cares about me deeply and maintains a vested interest in pleasing me and checking up on me. But yāknow whatās crazy. Iām only in recent months becoming okay with the concept of calling him MY friend. And I do use that word lightly lol. But like, itās crazy to me because.. heāll say, yāknow, do you wanna hang out? And lm thinking to myself for the first time ever.. I kinda do want to do that, yeah, I want to see you. I can see myself enjoying the time I spend around you. In doses. I donāt remember if I really felt that way about him ever before. And itās hard because thatās not the kind of information I could or would EVER share with him. So clearly there is still an amount of separation and masking between us. I still feel as though most people are not capable of understanding me and that being around them will indenture my spirit to servitude. But like, I can be happy for him now. I never really cared when he celebrated anything, but when good things happen to him.. now, Iām like.. oh! Yeah! I am glad that happened!
Granted, I wouldnāt call my level of care for him up to normal standards, I still donāt give a fuck when he says he misses me and I still rarely to never pick up his calls or messages lmao, but like!! I can accept that he is a nice guy who cares about me now. And I believe in rewarding that care to the degrees Iām comfortable with. Part of it may be that Iām āhealingā but I think another big part of it is that he no longer begs for my attention anymore. Heās stopped taking it as any signal that Iām angry with him when I donāt respond, he just allows me to not respond. Heās made other friends who can match his level of sociality and doesnāt need to rely on me for a percentage of it. Iām actually internalizing the idea that I have the freedom to WANT to talk to him occasionally.
I have a feeling that the above factor also contributes to why online friendships feel easier to maintain. There is a lot less implicit pressure to ābe thereā for them, when theyāre literally not āhereā all the time. They donāt āneed meā to be available because theyāre, like, doing whatever they do in Canada off their phones idk. Can we tell Iāve been missing my Canadian friend and doing nothing to reach out or resolve that feeling? I should talk to herā¦. (Iāll probably forget again)
Anyway feb talks about friends again with no grander lesson to reveal. It was just on my mind. Thereās another person Iād like to write about some time but itāll make me angry so Iām saving it for when I care less
Szpd is so dumb because the last time I remember being seriously triggered by somebody and feeling really actually like my autonomy was bring invaded was when I had this one friend over, we were high and just chilling in the basement or something, and I looked up to see them eating w their eyes closed. That is literally it. I canāt even recount this without clenching my teeth and getting irrationally pissed off again š this is ridiculous. This is the shit I split over. Not sex, not sensitive conversations, not their bpd obsession with me, but the fact they allowed themselves to get comfortable enough in my space to close their eyes. It was like all my perception narrowed in on them and the sound of them breathing intensified and took up the whole room and I was like frozen staring at them in anger. I canāt really understand why THIS is so viscerally upsetting but it felt like someone came into a museum and just started flinging mud everywhere except I was one of the paintings so I couldnāt interfere. Like I invited them over probably.. I assume.. either way they had no reason to think they werenāt welcome or couldnāt do something, Iāve always appeared to have a very lax and chill approach with them so Iām sure the moment felt completely natural as to not even require a second thought.
But. Even so.
Something about me despises them and despises their presence and wanted them to suddenly teleport away from me and stop just EXISTING so MUCH in my space. Something about me resents the fact they donāt stay as coherent as me when weāre high, that they canāt or wonāt separate their substance affected mood/bodily reactions from their higher thinking mind. Uuggh maybe I just gotta stop getting high with this person face to face because I always seem to mildly traumatize myself somehow over the smallest stupidest shit they doā¦.. half of us are their friend and the other half are straight up disgusted by them so who knows what to do really š
In order to not be a hateful and avoidant piece of shit ALL the time (manytimes is okay) Iām trying to tell myself that itās my choice to talk to or comfort people when they signal for needing attention. Iām not being forced to, theyāre not holding their death over my head, theyāre not going to hate me, Iām not going to cause them harm, Iām not being forced by the nature of the universe to make myself into a service for other people to better themselves through. Itās my choice. Itās just as well within my control to engage as it is to ignore. Iām choosing this. I can walk away whenever I want.
But then of course has to come the logically constructive thoughts that search for a loophole for everything and beg the question, is this very frame of mind another way of capitulating to demands? Am I simply arranging my behavior for them? Is this just some reverse psychology tactic to cope myself into thinking I want to be around people so itās easier to bare? I mean, does that being true change it being helpful either? Do I have an obligation to myself to become palatable or to completely isolate? There is no correct answer Iām just turning pearls over again (Ć la mitski) (btw the actual answer is I have a stupid disorder that makes me stupid and this shit is not supposed to be that deep but itās too deep to ME)
On one hand, I had very gentle parents, but on the other hand it took me until I was about 18 to even realize I had ARFID and they owned a restaurant. They were just so unconcerned with any of the myriad ways I was always falling behind. Like never eating. That was just a funny quirk my whole life. When I refused to try new things, it was accepted with little resistance. I used to be grateful for that because I thought- naturally, as a kid with a hatred for authority- āim glad they respect my choices.ā And itās a bit of a spiteful realization to know that I did grow up to regret that and wish theyād intervened, because thatās what adults always say when you set a boundary as a child (āokay, but youāre going to regret this when youāre olderā) and like damn it I hate that youāre right, because I do. I really do wish someone had investigated that more or pushed me harder on it. Itās such a subtle way to not be participating in/able to participate in society but I feel now that not being able to relate to my peers on the very basis of food was a hindrance to me. And I probably wasnāt getting enough nutrients either lol. I guess there is that part too. But itās mostly weird to know I never ate anything with friends or family. Those āfood as a metaphor for loveā guys would have a field day with me. I feel the need to re-stress the restaurant part.
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When I was in middle school I did this ongoing bit where I talked about the local meteorologist on the weather channel as if he were some big A List celebrity, and Iād say his name like you might say āt*ylor sw*ftā or ābryan cranstonā or something. After a certain point Iād done that thing where it stopped being a joke and I really felt like he was a famous person. This all came to a head when he was a judge at a highschool talent show and I asked for his autograph, ironically of course, but didnāt even bring a pen or paper with me. I was gonna ask him to write it out on my phone with his finger I think. Somehow it was miscommunicated into āI want to take a picture with you,ā and so we did. But now I just had a picture of myself posed up awkwardly with the guy from the weather channel who I have no particular special relationship to. The bit had become reality. What do I say, I just took this photo because it was funny? I mean, yes, that was why, but he was an older dude who had no concept of the absurdist humor I was making him into a part of. He really just thought some kid wanted a picture with him forā¦ being on TV? That was a version of me that existed in someoneās mind. I had to abandon this routine.
Hello š I have a question.
How did you& choose your system name? Being schizoid and a system makes choosing a name damn near impossible. How did you come up with yours?
Hi, good question.
The first one was just a pun about our bodyās initials, āp.s.ā and how that is also an abbreviation of āpostscript,ā to add another thought after the main portion of writing has ended. I just liked the way it shook out thematically I guess. I felt like I would be the type of person that needs to add one million PS, PSS, PSSS, etc, to clarify my thoughts endlessly if I wrote a letter. So I just repurposed the name we were already using.
Obviously the okayness with that name ran out tho lol. The second one was chosen during a really bad week so the person who made it up was kind of a flash in the pan, but itās a portmanteau of the words āpierrotā and āpareidolia.ā The clown and the phenomenon of seeing faces in shit that donāt have faces, like the man in the moon. Or particularly the rabbit in the moon. Idk, he was just rlly obsessed with the moon rabbit for the week she existed. I didnāt feel like changing it back or anything afterwards because the body was already using a different name socially by then too. That being said, I liked the implication of having a name with Pareidolia in it. It feels like im saying, āIām not really here, youāre just seeing the shape of a person where there isnāt one.ā
Choosing names does feel very impossible, I agree. I donāt think Iāve ever had one I totally loved or didnāt feel uncomfortable with at least once. My personal instinct is just to wear them out as long as I can stand because itās less effort than changing it constantly. I think it helps if you can get stuck on something that gives more distance from you. Like, choosing a name you call yourself and donāt share anywhere, and then a name you have for functional purposes? Though everyoneās tolerance for being referred to is different so itās fine if this advice doesnāt help much (sorry if so).
If u meant Vidi though, it came out of a username on a side account one of us ran for a little while. To me it feels like just a word and not a name, but for some reason itās very tolerable as a name too. Good Luck on hunting one down if youāre trying, I do hope that you find something adequate. Not sure if this was a very insightful response or not but thanks for throwin an ask anyway.
I think sometimes I act on this desire in myself to pursue suffering with the same velocity that many other people chase happiness. But why? Well, why do people want to be happy? Silly question I guess, āit feels good,ā and there need not be more reason than that. But why does it feel good? There is something strangely satisfying in it when im having a bad bad time. These pointed moments of suffering; crying, choking, shaking, I think I just like the intensity of it. Such an embodied feeling. I canāt watch horror movies tho. I even walked away from a Disney movie once when I was little just because I heard āthis part is supposed to be scary.ā Though, when my school got swatted that one time, I would never admit this to anyoneās face, but a part of me enjoyed living in fear for a moment. It was surreal. Maybe I only felt comfortable enough to think that because I knew weād be okay though? There was no way to know that in the moment though, I guess maybe I was really quite scared. When I went home I took a nap and then completely believed I had dreamed the whole thing. Until I saw texts from my friend asking if I was. Yknow. Alive. Hmmmā¦. I havenāt thought about this in a long time.. Thinking about school is always so confusing for me. Which is really quite unfair considering how often I still think Iām the student age. Im so stuck in that time but canāt remember half the shit as if it even happened to myself. So confusing and weird. I let the plot get away from me on this post but oh well