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I don’t know what to do.

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My room is a fucking prison. This house is a mental ward. The neighborhood is a police state.

So we’ve got–oh fucking forget the jokes. It’s just garbage.

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Can you tell that I just have a really low-quality family?

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My brother really does everything in his power to ruin my life. No adult entertainment, no loud music, no casual drinking. Everything suppressed. Everything bottled up.

Until it all explodes.

And he doesn’t like when that happens either.

So basically he’s just a fucking moron.

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I wish there was a single fucking person in my life whom I looked forward to talking to.

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The medical-industrial complex is full of shit. It’s like, they tell you to have an active lifestyle, which is great, but then it’s like: active what? What activity? There’s nothing to do! Fucking brainless morons. They really didn’t think this one through. Or should we vote on destroying social construct some more and just leave people to their own bidding, while preaching them into oblivion?

Anyway the short story hasn’t even started yet. The poems are still in 1st draft. No critique from family yet. I am horrified of even speaking to them, they are so violent, manipulative, and psychologically malicious. Fuck I hate these people. Mom’s downstairs watching Harry Potter movie such and such, which is a total garbage movie. The music is atrocious and it literally bashing you in the skull with cheese.

There’s no escape. If I lived on my own I would go for a joy ride. But the family owns me, like I said, so no freedom for this one! Yep. Fifteen minutes, more probably. Find some photo spots. Drive around with the camera. The mother always asks the stupidest fucking questions. Even considering the suicidal ideation of attempting to communicate with her is just too much.

I don’t know what to say. I’ve been playing chess and rummaging through my Magic cards for like hours now. It’s not the quarantine. It’s the people I live with. This is not a good arrangement. It’s not “safe” like she says. It’s torture. Someone needs to either die, or leave forever. This is not good. I don’t like it here. There’s no romance, peace, intellectuality, or anything good. Whatever it’s a made up word, eat shit, I don’t care.

Fuck.

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I don’t want to start any fights, but actually I didn’t start any fights. They did.

My mom won’t let me have any milk from the fridge. She’s a skanky ass bitch. What a fucking sack of shit. Make sure to spell your swear words correctly!

In other news: cards.

Life is horrifying.

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Feeling better. I guess. Still the family harasses me a lot. My brother’s probably angry at me for being destructive last night. We’re skipping tennis because I don’t think he would want to play with me, actually. He made the effort but I was asleep. Then I woke up and mom said could we go. I said no. I didn’t tell her it was because I think my brother’s probably angry at me.

I have all my tabs open. I opened them this morning around nine (not sure why not sooner–woke up around 5:30) and yeah it has all my productivity tasks, I guess I should put some job hunting stuff on there while we’re at it, some leisure activities, just everything for the day/week. Depending on how slow I am. And boy, am I slow.

Played a few chess games, I think I lost most of them. I don’t remember. I could look it up but it’s not important. I think I called some people out on here at some point? I don’t know. Getting all these likes for bitching about how awful my life is, is kind of dejecting. It seems to be positive reinforcement for negative behavior. Or at least a paltry effort at it. Not cool. But who cares, in the end. You can’t really ban people or block anyone on Dorfpress so you just sort of have to talk to them. Whatever that entails. *makes brandishing gestures with bloody screwdriver*

Three poems and a short story are due on Tuesday. The poems are in first draft; family hasn’t critiqued yet. I don’t know if they want to or not. It probably won’t be very detailed. So I’ll just have to do it myself, in the end. The short story is going great; I’ve currently got zero words on the page. I’ll hammer it out in one go at some point, probably. Probably tom.

Music mostly sounds terrible. I don’t know why anyone likes anything. It’s all garbage. I tried listening to white noise–did you know there are many different types? songs of white noise, I mean–and even that was garbage. If I don’t even like that, then I doubt I’ll like anything. There’s so much crate digging (read: dumpster diving) to do to find like one morsel that is half-assedy okay. It sucks. I’m so used to having music I love that sustains me through difficult times. It sounds trivial–oh! woe is me! I don’t like music anymore!–but it’s actually quite devastating. Or should I say it’s actually devastating. Quite.

So there’s no like sustenance. The nap this morning was clutch. I ate dinner or lunch or no one really knows what meal is which these days cuz mom cooks everything in the morning on possibly more later. She’s kind of obsessed with food. It was mushroom alfredo with pasta. Alright I guess. The overwhelming taste of mushroom would’ve been a fun thing to tell jokes about but no one’s in the mood for jokes right now. If only my family knew the main reason I drink is because of them. They put so much pressure on me. Then they blame me for it. It’s not fair. Or should I say it’s really not fair. Not fair. Oh well. I guess it doesn’t matter how you phrase it sometimes. Or should I say it doesn’t really matter how one phrases it sometimes. One. You. You. One. In no difference does it mask. Must I ask? I must not, I suppose. Instead. So it goes. To my head.

So anyway there are many problems in my life these days. Yes, I’m still unemployed. I was fired for being too sick to work last November. If it ever gets taken to court for fucking sure am I saying that’s what happened. I was coerced into leaving b/c I was sick. Violation of the law. Blatant. Fuckers.

GERD is not so bad right now. Probs b/c of the nap. I get bloated and acidotic (acidodic?) when my cortisol is elevated. I don’t like the S word.

Air filter is on. I wish there was something to do. I need to make some friends, somewhere, somehow. But for now we rest. Brother goes back to 5 days of work tomorrow, mom has four in a row. Dad is working 3 more days. I try to study and kind of like half-assedly look for bioinformatics positions which I absolutely don’t feel qualified for. And am intimidated by. And therefore chicken out of the interview. Whelp. Yeah more or less. But I guess that’s all. Humans continue to die. Biodiversity declining. Earth getting wrekt. Venus 2.0. Something like that.

Now is a good time for photography but there’s nowhere nice to shoot. This house is tense and I don’t like doing things I like when I don’t like doing then due to externalities.

Abuse. I guess I don’t even know what it is anymore. What’s the difference between abuse and normal life. It’s hard to tell, for me.

Some hobby projects. Mostly computer stuff.

Um. I guess that’s it.

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I got drunk again last night. Mom’s a bitch. I curb stomped her Leica. It was a special object. It’s broken now. No more watering small plants backyard. I didn’t do any pruning with her repressing me and therefore coercing me into doing a poor job. I don’t have one. I have to send my coupon for like another two grand in today. I don’t know why. I could leave it at this, but there won’t be anything to do after I leave. So.

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Also, I don’t know how to advocate for my previous psychiatrist’s death except by advocating for his death.

Did I call someone out last night? I was drunk. Sorry for name dropping. You’re not famous.

Um.