brystinks

[brystinks]

oftentimes i find myself sabotaging my own happiness. i succumb to guilt at the back of my head that tells me to be ahead of the pain when the road i'm on doesn't lead there. it's a damn highway with no left, right and u-turns but i still find myself swerving to danger instead

[brystinks]

green isn’t your color

it’s a grave situation i’ve dug myself into. full pun intended since even in my darkest times, humour is still my defence mechanism.

i’ve painted myself green with the paint bomb clasped in my hand. the thing was, i’ve never encountered the streaks of green splattering the walls of my rational mind. it’s sticking to ever furniture in the little home in my head, creeping through the cracks and leaving the place in a state of calamity. there’s no white paint anywhere nor anything to clean it up with. 

let me enumerate:

jealousy is an ugly, ugly feeling. 

you get wrapped up with one person and all rationality just gets thrown out of the window. additionally, i was completely out of place. i was not in a position to lash out on people. but then again, my brain is still me. despite whatever it’s feeding every fibre of my being. it’s quite powerful, the green paint. it stains. it reeks. it spreads out until every inch of you is covered. it starts to flow through your blood and your organs have no reprieve from the pigment.

your lungs start to take shallow breaths. your heart start to clench with every beat. your fingers start to fidget. your eyes start to gloss over. the worst part is your brain, because that’s where the paint bomb exploded, leaving the most damage. 

i don’t resent anyone but me, unfortunately. it would’ve been easier to blame someone but in the end, the green pairs with guilt, and it’s a lovely combo of breaking down.

[brystinks]

what do you do when moving feels like starting at the same place all over again

[brystinks]

The stinky cheese strikes again.

Why hello there tumblr mods, brystinks is back again and better.

No like, literally. I've been better :) I read back on my old posts and I sounded so smart and literate and now I can't even spell accidentally without looking over at the spelling prediction tab. However, as much as I became illiterate, I gained more wellness in my head (maybe that's a theory on it's own: the smarter you are, the more detached you are from society lolz). Things have gotten better and I'm not as much categorized as "isolated anxious", now scooting over to the "varying social conscious-anxious" - still anxious, yes, but the upgraded social part is already a plus for me. I no longer sabotage my own happiness (most of the time). The scoot I took to the new category was what I would describe as the scrape of a chair down a concrete floor where you try to move your chair without standing and you act as if your bum has a magnetic force hold over the chair.

Well, I've chugged two melatonin gummies and I'm promptly ready to sleep. Maybe I'll remember tumblr exists in my phone in a week or in the next year. Eitherway, I'm sure stuff has changed.

[brystinks]

A Study on the Sudden Comfort of Isolation

I have an essay in Psychology that  I’m supposed to be finishing but if I don’t get this thought out of my head I might regret letting it slip out of my mind completely. So buckle up Tumblr mods because it’s trauma dump, essay style.

I’ve never actually noticed when staying inside seemed a better option for me, that eventually blended into staying inside, alone. I reckon it’s due to the pandemic and the lockdown that has occurred in the past years (crazy to think I can’t refer to it using “in the past few months” now, it has to be years, has time really passed that quickly?). Firstly, I don’t think I’ve actually sat down and thought about the effects of it - maybe mostly because I’m scared of where my thoughts will go to. I don’t like it most of the time, when I’m too up in my head and the thoughts are raging. Admittedly, that’s happening right now. I feel like Hamilton furiously writing down the blur and the hurricane of thoughts brewing in my head. I have to typ elike a madman because I also fear missing what’s in my head. I fear missing the thoughts and evnetually forgwetting all about ikt. I reckon I  am having numerious typos by now, but my eyes are stuck ot the keyboard and I just have to w r it. e.

Alright I took a minute to breath. 

Being isolated from everyone has transformed into a sense of suffocating comfort. Both negative and positive connotations. I greatly remember wanting to always go out all the time before. I don’t know what happened. Maybe because going out somehow merged into the hidden meaning of “only ever having to go outside to do something important and tiring” or maybe it’s my socially pitiful childhood catching up to me. I’ve always wanted to go out as a kid. I had strict grandparents. Not letting me play with other children, no knowing other childrens’ neighbours, heck not even learning how to ride a bike. Maybe I’m just bitter about that.

Nevertheless, I think I have a thought buried inside my head, a lingering bitterness about always wanting to go outside, but now being forced and told to go outside more. Maybe it’s because I now hate they blame it on me for not going out. Psychologically, maybe it’s the development I have due to the environment I am in. When all throughout your childhood you’ve been told to stay inside and suddenly being told to go out as a teen, your mindset won’t suddenly change and you go crazy, going outside every chance you have, no. It doesn’t work like that. Sometimes there’s underlying childhood trauma that is never discussed that prevents you from being free. 

And it’s so damn crazy. I hate it so much. I hate how the blame I’m putting on others seems so reasonable. Although am I really here to blame merely myself? I’ve been doing that a lot recently. Might also make a trauma dump essay for that too. Tumblr mods, would you appreciate that? I’ve taken a class in Psychology and maybe my posts would sound educated. Yeah, maybe someone will read this eventually.

This is all for now, might make a part two, might not. Nobody knows. Goodluck to me and my psychology essay.

[brystinks]

Does unconscious always equal to genuine?

[brystinks]

my anxiety has been stupid crazy lately god, everything's so jumbled up and looming over me

[brystinks]

oftentimes i find myself sabotaging my own happiness. i succumb to guilt at the back of my head that tells me to be ahead of the pain when the road i'm on doesn't lead there. it's a damn highway with no left, right and u-turns but i still find myself swerving to danger instead

[brystinks]

photo dump but it’s trauma and thoughts

god, now that i’m attempting to sort my thoughts and emotions, i feel like the more i deny being depressed the more it becomes true.

i hate how no tears are coming out though. i, as sad as it sounds, honor myself in being able to cry easily from the least emotional texts and the most heart wrenching “dog-passing-away-scenes”. well now that i thought about it, i’m clinging tightly to John Watson’s therapist’s advice of trying out a blog.

god this is my blog after getting shot in 4fghanistan (censoring that out bc i dont want this possibly popping out anywhere with recent events).

if i’m j0hn wats0n then i’m damn hoping my sherl0ck h0lmes is on his way (also censoring that bc)

this is actually very hard, i agree with mr.watson. how can you just write down what you think when there’s so many things going on. it’s like being given a laptop and write down every single event happening in a concert (and by everyone, meaning individual experiences of every single person attending). it’s hard. you don’t know when to start and you’re afraid your mind is already so fast going through emotions and your hand can’t catch up. well bloody hell that sounds like a sherlock thing, maybe im doomed to be alone and have to be my own consulting duo

ok so im now in a call with my friends and my brain is on the music im listening to, on the call, and on this typing thing

tumblr staff you’ve saved yourself from my trauma dump for now

[brystinks]

Oh Dear Am I depressed

self-diagnosed, albeit with hesitation and denial

it makes me guilty, wanting to admit to it, or to try and get help. i’m constantly surrounded by people whom i deem to have problems way harder than mine. i’m aware of it, unfortunately, though being aware of it makes me try to brush of the things running in my head more. i’m simply being the diva that my mind tricks me to be. or maybe it’s just getting used to how people react and wiring my brain to just shut up sometimes.

dear, i got a truckload of trauma piling in my head and i might even dump it all on to this spam/journal account. tumblr staff, look AWAY and don’t burden yourself with this like omg, let me put my thoughts somewhere without feeling like a burden to anyone. might dump up all my drama in the next post with paragraphs of non-related topics every 4-5 sentences.

[brystinks]

i'm staring at your status. i see you're online, but there's also her so maybe never mind, i'll once again resign to my browser, scrolling through tags and stories i'll read till i fall asleep

[brystinks]

that was enough typing and using my brain for today, see you next time when i remember i have a tumblr account or have another overwhelming emotional experience due to overthinking

[brystinks]

Do you ever find yourself coming back to one person?

No thesaurus can help me find a better synonym for frustration. Better yet, I can’t find myself a single coherent thought on why I keep coming back to one person. I’m so frustrated. I feel like a small flame on a wavering candle, swaying with the light breeze - well that’s bullocks. If only how I feel about you would disappear like a small flicker of fire against boulders, oceans and hurricanes. But it doesn’t. I’m getting sick seeing a small flicker of hope still burning in the wick of the candle every time I tell myself I should get over it. It never happens. 

No thesaurus can help me find a better word for anger. I start to hate you. I hate how you make me confused. I hate how I feel like you’re my everything as I am to you but then add 1 and suddenly I’m the one on the other side of the equation. I might as well be a side with no value. I hate how I’m writing stupid trigonometry terms in reference to how much I hate you. I hate how I’m all wrapped up in your pretty little finger. I hate how I love you in ways that I can’t ever seem to explain to anyone else. 

No thesaurus can help me find a better synonym for love. Maybe it’s because of that. I love you dearly. Silently. Quietly. Secretly. Wholeheartedly. I love you in the small conversations we have. I love you in the long midnight calls. I love you when I fall asleep to your presence. I love you when I wake up and see that you’re still there. I love you when this happens, when you look for me too. I love you when we sit in silence, making the distance between us seem like nothing. I love you when the smallest things I do everyday make me think of you.

Maybe I come back to you because I know I love you. 

[brystinks]

You took a huge jump to the other side of the cliff. You made it, but what now?

In a span of three months, I’ve moved across continents. A fourteen-hour difference. I’ve yearned for this move for a year already; but, now that I’m too focused on the fact that I should be treating this as a new start, I don’t acknowledge how overwhelmed I am. How long am I really going to keep lying to myself?