06/11/26, Thursday





Hello everyone, welcome back to another day where I talk with myself. Today I was with my friend for an entire 4 hours! Crazy how time can fly. Regardless, we spent most of it on this Roblox version of the Backrooms. It has updated so much from when I last played. The maps are a lot more scenic, the models have improved significantly, and they have added many new levels since. I would sit and tell my friend about all the ways the game has changed since I first played. I wandered around the game like a child, marveled at all the serene environments. Every new addition in the game left a place for me to explore, stare in awe, and figure out. Some levels were trickier than others, such as level 10, where I had to babysit this massive entity (it was NOT fun) while my friend was busy searching for what we needed to progress.

After getting tired at the Fun House level, we opted to play a different game called "A Broken Dream," and the game has captivated my interest like an iron fist, forcing my head to continue looking. Essentially, it is about the protagonist, who so happens to be the main player, escaping reality via the use of sleeping pills and traveling within the realm of dreams. The game itself is inspired by liminal spaces akin to those portrayed in the backrooms, meant to visualize the protagonist's detachment from the real world and their return to their mind. Now, the concept of sleep or dreams to escape the harsh truth of reality is not niche; Omori has the same premise. However, the game has managed to strip me of all my skin and clothes, touching directly on my achy, swollen heart.



There was a sequence where we were in a kindergarten, the typical lullaby playing in the back throughout the entire chapter. Once I heard it, I felt my body melt instantly; my shoulders dropping, not out of relaxation, but exhaustion and defeat. Then, this shadow called Mrs. C materialized before us. Her dialogue was maternal, nurturing, and felt like the hug I needed, but never asked for. In this part, we were often tasked to change the time on the clocks so we could skip recess, a standard period of time where children got around to socializing with each other and play. However, our main character wished to stay away from it all, expressing wants of remaining in the classroom and reluctant compliance. This part has reminded me of my own isolated young years, where I would just sit by myself on the colorful rugs of my kindergarten. It was so bad that teachers would force other students to involve me in their play or just be by my side, and I just followed through because what else could I have done? In the game, the main character would emphasize the point of maintaining personal space between themselves and their peers, avoiding coming too close to others. Similarly, I would maintain my own self away from those around me.



I was a pretty sad kid and would frequently cry for my mom, who stood abroad. The teachers would often pull me off to the side near the bins and tell me to throw all my feelings of wishing my mom were there into the bin. I know they meant well; they wanted to cheer me up, but it never went away until I got into a car crash at 7. I think about that day often, my brother and I were on the school bus going to pick up another child, when all of a sudden, the driver decided to be impatient and drive at high speeds in front of an approaching vehicle. The driver lost control of the bus and swerved into the fence of a nearby house. When the disorientation faded, I remember feeling a stinging sensation on my forehead and hearing the cries of the other children. I turned my back to the loudest cry only to see a kid standing on the chair with his face sliced open, his blood-curdling cries taking up the entire space of the bus. Once I saw him and heard his screams, I just began to cry my eyes out until I passed out. Throughout the rest of the day, I would regain consciousness only to lose it again, waking up in a brand new place every time; either that be the ambulance, the halls of the hospital, or the MRI machine. When I was discharged, I walked out into the world again, holding the hand of my uncle. News reporters and TV anchors swarming us like flies to the me that died in the crash. He dismissed all of them, refusing to let them treat this as something to be broadcast for those back at home. But in his car, I felt nothing, and everything no longer seemed real.



But that crash was not the beginning of my troubles. They started much younger, with the earliest being my baptism (which is shocking that I even remember it, considering how young I was). I can recall the fear I felt being dunked and pulled out of the cold water at rapid and even aggressive speeds. The sensation has led me to begin to cry horribly, just bare, cold, and terrified. After it was finally over, my aunt (my mom was not present yet, and this entire baptism was done without her consent) held me and put my clothes back on. I am only able to recall this memory after my mom caused a ruckus in the family over how harsh it was after scrolling many years back into my family's Facebook. Since then, I carry the weight of this memory on my shoulders. Everything else beyond that was just adding to what I already had to carry, such as my mom attempting to run away with my brother and I.



After a bad bicker between my mom and my grandma, she barged into my room, telling me to take what I needed and come with her. When I asked why, she responded with, "We are not staying here any longer." The entire day we spent walking around the city; my mom was trying to find a place to stay that we enjoyed. But in a particular apartment, I just sat on the grey sofa. Palms up to my forehead as I felt a melancholic nothingness over my situation. Later, I was able to convince her to talk to my aunt at the nearby mall's cafe, who was able to persuade her into us going back home. When my grandma saw me, she said, "You guys weren't trying to run away... you were just out for a very long time," a desperate lie told through her teeth, but I didn't rebut, because I knew she knew the same truth. Unfortunately, the same thing happened with my dad. I was able to catch much earlier where the arguing was heading, and I quickly went into the bathroom to cry, as I had no other clue on what to do. I felt safe there. In a small pocket of the world where we created a social norm to never intrude on a person in the bathroom, which would allow me a space to cry. But, when the quarrel reached a fever's pitch, my dad opened the door and dragged me out of the bathroom as I tried to wipe away my tears. This time I stood my ground. I knew the same way I knew with my mother that it wasn't safe to comply. That they couldn't solely provide what my brother and I required: safety, presence (although unwanted at this point), and even financial stability. However, this led to a fiasco of its own, where my mother (who was again abroad) felt as if I was choosing my grandma over her. No matter how much I tried to explain and comfort her in the days that passed since the incident, she told my dad that every attempt I made just made her not wish to be around me. Because of this, my dad yelled at me, stating that I "do not deserve freedom". Again, I began to cry, and he, realizing his mistake, tried to pull me into a hug that I continuously kept pushing away. Yet, he forced me, and nothing changed.



There are so many other loose memories that I try to piece together with a red thread on a billboard. Like how the police called the home line searching for my mother, where I had to lie. The number of times I had to comfort my worried and emotionally distressed mother (even about my own worries or what I was going through as she always was more worried or emotional than I was about it), learning about the truth of my mom's past with my grandfather (which my grandmother has always sugarcoated to me), and all the things my dad has done to my mother. I remember one moment when we were out at the mall, as a family, and they began to argue. They took it further away from my brother and me, perhaps my mom's idea to not let their issues bleed into us, but it's hard to remove blood from satin. Since that moment, I have disliked my dad, and learning more about the things he has done to my mom has left me wondering why they haven't separated yet, as divorce would've been better than this. One time, my mom found out I had an eating disorder, and she yelled and broke down right in front of me. I desperately tried to comfort her through shame-filled tears, telling her I'd stop and that she doesn't have to worry anymore. Although I felt annoyed that I had to, and often thought about ways to bypass her peering gaze just so I could do what I wanted, I just concluded that, for my own sake, it was better to just comply so she wouldn't take away my autonomy and pull me out of school.



That lullaby in the game was the soothing balm to what I never had. Comfort. However, it offered so much more than this; it showed me the world I had envisioned when I was younger and what I am really fighting for. There was this sequence where we were in this area with a Frutiger Aero aesthetic. The grass was vivid, the skies were a clear, crystalline blue, and the NPCS in that area were all so nice and even expressed their views on political topics. The use of Frutiger Aero in a place that was titled "A Past Dream" was so heart-touching, as Gen Z (my generation), while not having grown up with this aesthetic, considers Frutiger Aero as a promised future that was never fulfilled, and I, too, fall under this demographic of people. Since I was young, I knew that life was unbearable. That insecurity and instability, either physical or mental, have killed dozens. So, to contribute, I wished at 5 years old to become a therapist, as I wanted and still do wish to help those who cannot pick themselves up. I thought things in the future would be better, but as I grew older, it only seemed to get worse. I have this rule that if one were to make a pinkie promise with me, they had to fully accept that breaking the promise would lead to a cut-off finger if I found out they had broken it. However, if they managed to withhold it as a secret up until their death, instead of cutting off their finger, I'd congratulate them. The pinkie promise of Frutiger Aero had been broken long before, and had been broken several times. Hence, I am so angry and cynical because they deserved a chopped-off finger long ago.



06/09/26 to 06/10/26, Tuesday-Wednesday

(All text bolded and underlined are hyperlinks to my sources.)



Hello everyone, yet again, I have come forth to vomit out my thoughts on a digital space I treat like paper. Let's get straight to the point: I am queer (a lesbian specifically), and this month is meant to celebrate and illuminate queer identities, while also highlighting our history to acknowledge all the effort that our predecessors have made. However, this month is always overshadowed by homophobic individuals who use self-righteous rhetoric. To explain concisely, people who use "men's mental health month" to overwrite pride, talk about how veterans also deserve a month, and how God also deserves a month. This is just ignorant bigotry disguised as "morality".



I wish to emphasize 3 key things. 1) Men's mental health is important, and I am a firm advocate for men seeking out assistance when it comes to their mental health struggles. I believe a lot of the struggles we face are caused by the patriarchy and affect both men and women. But for women, we are the victims of the actions done by men who are conditioned into the patriarchy. If we do not combat the system at its root, the branch will just grow back from where you snapped off the twig. 2) I do not think a majority of people who are preaching this stuff on social media, or even in their real-life interactions with people, are intentionally bigoted. But there is a feeling of dislike, or homophobia, within them that makes them act. Because of this, I cannot stand idly by as their lack of education as to why gay people even have a month causes them to water down the spotlight that queers have after such a long fight. 3) Not all religious people are a part of this story. In regard to the recent trend that has arisen with the "I deserve sunshine," I have seen religious people not only admit that they cannot participate in the trend, but that queer people also deserve sunshine. To that, I wish to say thank you. Although I have no shame in my identity, and that not being a bastard towards those who are of any minority is the bare minimum, seeing that some of these religious folk, who are willing to tarnish their reputation within some part of their community for the sake of spreading their love with the people affected by their own group, is something that I think is worthy of gratitude.



Now that that's out of the way, back to my original train of thought. According to the American University of Washington DC and Britannica, the first Pride parade was a riot against police brutality that occurred at a small dive bar in New York (Stonewall Inn). During that time, there were laws in place that suggested men and women wear certain garments to allude to their gender. Due to this, police used it as an opportunity to intrude on bars to arrest transgender and gender non-conforming people, and Stonewall Inn faced this frequently. However, on June 28th, 1969, the people retaliated. This retaliation has lasted for 5 days via protests by a cohort of individuals. A year after this event, the first parade was held at Stonewall to showcase solidarity to fight back against discrimination and to acknowledge what had transpired a year earlier. However, this is not the entire extent of what queer individuals had to undergo only to be accepted for who they are. Despite ancient works of art (painting, pottery, and the like) depicting same-sex relationships, queer people were often punished for being themselves. They were killed, whipped, sent to prison, or banished. Homosexuality was often labelled as a "sodomy crime" (Sodomy being the act of non-procreative sexual activity). This label has linked homosexuality to the same people who commit acts of bestiality. So many people have died solely because their lover just so happened to have the same sex as them, or didn't conform to the strict boxes that we have in place on gender. And they all died with the persecutors thinking they had done a good thing, that they had maintained the natural world order. In spite of their thoughts, nature has showcased that what we had thought (or still think) as unnatural happens much more frequently (examples on "Wikipedia").



But where do these ideas come from? Well, the New York Times (1990) states that the hostility against homosexuals can be traced to hate-based fear and a sense of self-righteousness in which homosexuality is seen as a threat to the morals of the universe, with the most hostile actions being done towards lesbian and gay individuals. Based on Homophobia: Scientists Find Clues To Its Roots, they stated that religion and the gender stereotypes that the patriarchy and society enforce in us are the driving factors of hostility towards queer individuals. There is a common stereotype that is still ongoing today, that gayness is feminine in nature. Due to the ostracism of traits often associated with femininity, such as passivity, sensitivity, and the like, this causes an extreme amount of fear within men as they are continuously taught what masculinity ought not to be, rather than the definition of it. In addition, a clear expression of their more feminine traits being showcased with a gay individual may make them aware of their more "feminine" traits. Due to the desire to be seen as a man according to the stereotypes we have in place, this causes men to develop homophobia as a push back, which ultimately shows why men are more likely overall to be homophobic in comparison to women.



Another way this presents itself in the modern day is by the viewing of a man doing anything that is, yet again, associated with femininity, being labeled as "gay" or that the action is "gay" in nature. This especially happens with teenage boys (based on anecdotal evidence). During the period of adolescence, a person is undergoing a large transitional period, not only for their bodies, but for who they are and where they fit into society. Parents and peers play a pivotal role in the life of an adolescent (NIH, 2016, "Links of Adolescents Identity Development and Relationship with Peers: A Systematic Literature Review"). It states that teens are more likely to adopt behavioural norms or standards of the peer group they identify with; this means that, in this context, if their aligned peer group displays traits of homophobia, they are more likely to pick it up as well to fit in. However, another thing can occur. When their peer group is nitpicking at their actions and making fun of them for appearing "gay" or "feminine", they are also likely to develop a hatred towards queer people and anything slightly resembling "gayness" as a way to fit into their peer group better. I have even noticed this behavior with myself. Not that I have ever turned homophobic (I am a lesbian myself after all (remember internalized homophobia is still a very real phenomenon that should be addressed)), but rather staying quiet when people like my classmates would shun gay people and say they are deserving of death. This has made me remain mostly quiet about my identity as a lesbian, because I am afraid of receiving ridicule from my classmates over something I cannot control. After all, based on the Impact of Homophobia on Adolescent Health (2015), 40% out of the 320 people who were surveyed in a Pride parade stated they had been discriminated against in educational institutions (page 668, DISCUSSION, paragraph 4). However, I would find silent ways of advocating for my community by always telling them that I have never minded their existence, and do not think they are deserving of divine punishment or execution over something that has never harmed anyone. Yet, this exact problem is what leads to younger queers developing internalized homophobia.



In Abrahamic religions, homophobia stems from interpretations of holy scriptures as being against homosexuality. While the validity of this depends greatly on different denominations of religious groups, it is still a leading force behind the homophobia that we see today and have witnessed for a while. According to the BYU Undergraduate Journal of Psychology in 2015, a study done in 1991 shows that 72% of Christian institutions viewed homosexuality as an "abomination" (direct quote from page 119, Vol. 11, Iss 2, Art 8). But why is this? Well, based on my own theory, I think it is due to how religion is older than science. Religion, in my theory, is a method of understanding the world through spirituality. To showcase this, Christians at one point were prohibited from consuming pork. This was because of a parasite called Trichinella (a foodborne disease whose infection caused severe abdominal pain, muscle weakness, and at worst, heart or brain issues). This parasite is often found in pigs (Main Groups of Microorganisms of Relevance for Food Safety and Stability, 2018). According to the Analysis of Pork Prohibition in Religious Texts in 2025, it may have influenced the prohibition of pork consumption, and has likely taken the illness as a divine command from God to not consume pork. The way this ties into my theory is that I think the way we see relationships relies on the spiritual notion of the essence of a relationship. The concept of essence, based on the philosophy institute, is what helps us define things. A direct quote states, " A triangle’s essence includes having three sides; this defines it as a triangle and simultaneously prevents it from being a square. Essence does not merely describe; it constitutes. Without essence, a thing would have no determinate identity at all." If we take this into account, while simultaneously considering the role religion had, I believe that the reason for this condemnation of homosexuality derives from the essence of relationships and reproduction. The only way for humans to produce offspring (in a hypothetical scenario, if queer individuals were capable of reproducing, then it would be healthy offspring) is with the merging of a female gamete with a male one. This would make people think that a relationship between 2 people is solely for reproduction, and that the essence of a relationship would consist of traits (such as the presence of a male, female, and the ability to reproduce offspring) that would make them legible for reproduction. Because of this, religion may have considered the ability to reproduce offspring as something divine (Psalm 127:3-5), and thus condemned any relationship in which this is not able to happen. This is proven by the Biblical Counseling Coalition in 2015 with direct quotes, "One of the many purposes of marriage is to have godly offspring (Malachi 2:15)" and "In Genesis 1:28, God says to Adam and Eve: 'Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it.' God commands us to have children. And He does so because it is a good thing. There are many wonderful parts to marriage, one of which is raising kids." These quotes show that one of the leading factors as to why a religious person may have a relationship is the ability to reproduce, which ties into the fact that homosexuality is often criticized by religious groups as "unnatural". However, I wish to pinpoint that not all Christians follow these ideals, and that what I have done is just an attempt at explaining why homosexuality may be disliked by these individuals. What I said does not apply to the entirety of Christians, only a specific group.



But what does this homophobia cause to homosexual individuals, especially younger ones around my age? Well, for adolescent queers, according to "The Impact of Homophobia on Adolescent Health" in 2015, actions of homophobia are often perceived as "disciplinary" done by a person of some level of authority (parents, peers, communities) to correct, change, or rewrite a behavior that is viewed as "wrong." However, these actions of "re-correction" often leaned into abuse, physical, verbal, and sometimes even sexual. This hostility, according to the same source, has led young queers to develop poorer mental health, displayed through behaviors of depression or anxiety, suicidal ideation and attempts, and teens developing internalized homophobia. But before we delve deeper, the definition of internalized homophobia, based on the NIH in 2009, "Internalized Homophobia and Relationship Quality among Lesbians, Gay Men, and Bisexuals", it states directly that, "Internalized homophobia represents 'the gay person’s direction of negative social attitudes toward the self' (Meyer & Dean, 1998, p. 161) and in its extreme forms, it can lead to the rejection of one’s sexual orientation. Internalized homophobia is further characterized by an intrapsychic conflict (a conflict undergone in a person's mind) between experiences of same-sex affection or desire and feeling a need to be heterosexual." This internalized homophobia can lead to a worsening in lifestyle habits within adolescents, such as a lack of concern towards their health, worsening sleep habits, and notable risk-taking behavior because they think that they are wrong in some way and are undeserving.



To provide my own experience, I once internalized the homophobia I heard. Although I was not out yet, seeing all my classmates, the internet, and even some talk between my family, has led me to believe that what I had with my girlfriend at the time was something worth being ashamed of. I would feel immense shame telling someone I was a lesbian and in a relationship with a girl, to the point that I was frequently depressed. Luckily, I was able to get out of this mindset, and have later come out to my immediate family, who were supportive. Even though I occasionally receive bigotry, I am one of the lucky ones who have people who accept me. Others, like my girlfriend at the time, are not so lucky, with many of them fearing the public reactions to their sexuality and relationships (or gender identity).



What does Pride Month and the spotlight on queers during June change? According to "The History and Mental Health Impact of LGBTQ Pride Month" 2025, the visibility of LGBTQ identities, along with affirmation that these identities are completely normal, can drastically improve self-confidence and acceptance of oneself. Although the behavior within Pride Parades may differ from person to person, and they still face their own issues (such as erasure of bisexuality and the bisexual experience based on the gender of the partner they are currently dating, transphobia, and the like), they still act as a spotlight upon queer identities to not only acknowledge our trouble-ridden history, but to also show to others who may still deal with internalized homophobia that they are not alone; that they too, deserve sunshine. While our community may not be perfect, nor our parades, I still wish to support everyone within my community and wish them all a happy Pride; you are seen. So please, a way to love thy neighbor, and to showcase your humanity (not conditional masculinity, but humanity) is to let them have the spotlight they deserve. Let the sunshine graze the skin of those who have been in the harsh cold for way too long, thinking that nobody would love them because they are a freak of nature.



If you are a queer person reading this, happy Pride. It doesn't matter what you are, who you're dating, or what others think of you; you deserve sunshine.



06/08/26, Monday



Hey everyone! I am aware my journal entries are becoming a little sprawled out. It is because I have been so hyper-focused on the enneagram that I have seemingly entered analysis paralysis, and every facet of my person is being called into question. Regardless, writing feels like a gasp of fresh air when I have perhaps been inhaling my own vape smoke for too long.

These days have been mostly uneventful, if we ignore my thoughts. Since the summer holiday has rolled around, it is becoming harder to keep track of the days and not to feel as if life is a simulation. Every day, I fall asleep around 5 AM, wake up 6 hours later (if my body literally collapses, otherwise I would be awake all day), smoke, sit on my phone, get frustrated at some of the more horrible takes I see on my feed (which leads me to complain about the internet to friends), and go outside later on. I know, very chud-life. I wish to do more, you know? To learn more, especially about sociology and philosophy. But it feels like something is tying me down, like my own head is too busy seeking the easy way into receiving stimulation. I mean, otherwise, why would I be on my phone? Why would I smoke so often? Why would I have my headphones on constantly? This slump has led me into a spiral of self-doubt and occasional comparison. I look at my acquaintances and see their level of engagement with what they love, and I sit by the sidelines as the books stay on my desk, dusty from prolonged inactivity. I have to really try to take the harder routes into this, I am far too convenienced (if that is a word). At the same time, I need to be easier on myself. Every mistake I make, I take as a lack of intellect; that I am far too unintelligent for someone who loves knowledge so profoundly. But that arises due to the totality of my love for knowledge. After all, the pristine never gets sullied because people are too afraid to place their greasy hands on it, and in this process, they miss out on feeling the texture. So perhaps I will take a break from my intellectual pursuits rather than jumping from topic to topic, desperately trying to prove to myself I am capable. Perhaps I should treat learning with a lot more casualness, and then I may finally pick myself up by the bootstraps and carry on from where I stopped.



Intensity has sorta been the way of the world for me. I have always wished to feel the ridges of cliffs, the dampness of morning grass dew, and the cacophony of a bustling city. It is a form of lust for the chaotic nature of life. However, I am not fond of this "moral" nature. For instance, I know someone (we have been in a relationship, but frankly, I cannot consider her my ex for reasons I'll explain in a separate paragraph) who likes to think that everything and everyone is good. She is the type of person who has explicitly stated that she wishes to live in a house on the coast of Italy with lemon plants, 2 dogs, and basically everything you'd associate with the word "cozy". Yet, I wish to live in a run-down studio flat (a commie-bloc is ideal, but I'll make anything work), with walls so thin I can hear the lives of my neighbors and the electricity has a mind of its own (a moody and stubborn one at that), where I can look outside my apartment in the dead of night and see the raging, chaotic and messy ways of life. I found out this likeness when I went to Bucharest during the night for the first time (I live in a coastal city, so I am a tourist to Bucharest). I went through the old town, sliding and dodging the people who filled up the space of the pavement like fluids. Around me, I saw people entering and leaving clubs, skimpily dressed performers dancing in restaurants, drunkards fighting each other with British folk chanting in the back (I have NO clue why they were there), people making out to the point I thought they'd eat each other whole, and even a sign with a telephone number if you wanted a hot and sexy massage. My brother has declined the offer, and I still hold a grudge against him to this day. But I did seek my revenge by taking him to an erotic museum in Barcelona. Really, I sat far too long staring and contemplating the BDSM section. Regardless, there is nothing wrong with her seeking a simpler life. Hell, to some extent, I think her life would be much more peaceful than my own. But I never sought peace. I wish to go to all these crazy places. To sit by the bar with some old man going through something and help him out, while drinking a couple of shots of whiskey. To hire a prostitute, not to have sex, but perhaps to talk and make each other laugh, so then I can frequent their clubs and give them a break. You know? Just sitting by the curb at night and talking, or getting drunk and bothering everyone on the street. So maybe I may not lead a peaceful life, but I will lead one with many stories to tell.



As to why I do not label this girl an ex could be seen as unfair and dismissive to the entire relationship; however, I just don't see the reason why we count our relationship experiences. I knew from the get-go that the relationship would be short-lived. From her mentioning of being single for so long and seeking anybody to get with (I'm exaggerating this bit, but I have no clue how to explain her words otherwise), her philosophy and lifestyle, really, it was inevitable. She avoided hardship like the plague, and any general (general in my sense of the word) form of sadness she felt was linked immediately to the worst moments of her life. This caused her to look at my more bleak philosophy and call it depressive. In addition, she was perhaps the most envious and pride-ridden person I have ever met. She has expressed bitter envy towards anybody in a slightly better position than her, even if it wasn't their fault. Her cousin, a kind and nice girl who attended a school under the same British international system as my own, was one of the targets of this envy. This girl expressed that her cousin receives far more attention than her just because her parents are divorced, and her mom is no longer in the picture, making it seem as if her cousin's suffering was smaller than her own. She critiqued her cousin's choice to make use of the benefits offered to her by her school (simpler access to colleges abroad) because there are better ones domestically; meanwhile, she has to sit and fight for a sliver of a chance because there are none for her desired field. She has also joined this art history Olympiad, where she has studied quite a lot for it. In one conversation she had with me, she informed me that one of her classmates has also signed up; however, she was afraid of receiving a lower score than this classmate, but was highly doubtful she would. When I questioned her about it, she just began to spew about how this classmate is an idiot and how they barely receive high marks at all, let alone in art history. I told her that she cannot say that because 1) the marks people receive on tests are never a teller of their intelligence, and you have no clue what a person was going through to cause lower scores (and anyway, if a person was either physically ill, mentally drained, or didn't care about studying, or the damn class doesn't mean that they are less intelligent), and 2) hell, maybe the classmate decides to lock in and even win the Olympiad, despite their grades. I do not recall how the rest of the conversation went, nor the ones before the publication of the results. However, I was proven right, and the classmate she has talked ill about has actually won and moved forward into the competition to compete at a larger scale. Obviously, the girl I was in a relationship with was distraught, and I attempted to comfort her to the best I can. Perhaps the anxiety has been eating at her capacity of thinking clearly during the exam, and caused her to miss a couple markers. During this, she backpedaled, not from me, but away from the reality of her losing by saying that this was the classmate's first and last ever good mark they will receive. That comment really tipped me off, and caused me to get irritated because what on earth did that classmate even do other than win an Olympiad and get bad grades? Regardless, I remember a while after the publication of the results, this girl approached me again to inform me that her classmate won by breaking a rule that the organization holding the Olympiad decided to drop. After she told me that, I began to laugh and give kudos to her classmate because too many people think being rule followers will get them anywhere.



Anyway, I do not think she is a bad person. She has gone through things I will not disclose, as that is her story to tell. But I have never considered her an ex of mine because I knew that it would end, and because of that, I have withheld myself more than I typically would. Obviously, she still deserved someone, or at least the mimic of a partner. Although I was definitely not for her, as even the amount of sexuality each of us had differed drastically. I still wish good for her, and that one day she'll realize that the world is mean, cruel, and vile, but that she doesn't need someone else to tie her shoelaces to ensure she doesn't fall. Whenever that part of her story comes, I do not have to be a part of it to congratulate her.



I know I am pushing it, but writing feels like the crisp air of winter when my throat has been coated in the sweet-flavored smoke I breathe in. I may not be a story writer, may not be the best essayist, nor the best argumentator, yet writing feels like the most natural thing to do when your tears are words, and each streak down my cheek is a sentence. When I was away from my journal, these 3 days felt like I was already halfway through June. I really do not have much to add in addition to this bleak thought, so I'll see myself out.