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I haven’t really considered before how big of a stone the saying ‘Don’t judge book by its cover’ was, aiming for publishers and marketers.

I think it’s actually very difficult to find a book, unless it’s a famous international bestseller with a few dozen of editions, where a cover would match the content. (And even then, if you look at the very first cover it was published under, it will probably make you shake your head. Like ‘Harry Potter’ covers… they are not bad, but after the 3rd one, I do believe they became too childish for the content.)

Just in these two months, I’ve seen good quality fantasy hidden behind badly photoshoped cheesy jackets with half-naked models that made me cringe; or on contrary, picked up something for it’s beautiful and sophisticated cover just to find tasteless PWP inside. It’s almost like you need to go from the contrary each time time try to chose a book. For example, a lot of YA books get beautiful hardcover editions and sprayed edges, because of the bookstagram movement that for some reason decided to focus on YA, but I’ve found out (after getting caught by the pretty editions a few times, I do love pretty books) most of them have hardly anything worth finding inside. And then, the best urban fantasy usually comes in cheap mass-marked editions with covers that are more likely to scare people off with their trashiness, and make me happy that in our country there’s a big culture of personal book covers to put on your books when reading outside…

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Every time I post something on flickr and take a few moments to go through the recent photos of people I follow there, it’s like they scream at me, my mind screams at me, that I’m trapped and wasting my life on things I don’t need to be wasting it on.

But, contrary to the popular belief, I’m not trapped because I’m too stubborn and cant take myself out any time I would decide to do it. What traps me are immigration laws and my condition that makes me a care-needed individual every time I set my foot outside.

Doesn’t hurt any less though.

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Being completely unable to decide anything is one of the more annoying depression symptoms.

Sometimes it makes me have a panic attack in a store, unable to choose between a blue jacket and a green one, sometimes it makes me turn down a chance for a better work position, and sometimes I spend all day unable to figure out if I’m going to go to a concert by one of my favorite bands I brought ticket for 3 months ago, or give up and go home this evening.

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Me: Buys a tone of books that have ‘romance’ as one of the genres every time there’s an anxiety attack (seeking ‘comfort books’ like cheeseburgers).

Also me: Gets genuinely surprised and disappointed when plot/romance balance exceeds(on the romance side) 70/30 and characters can’t stop thinking about sex… (like I thought I was buying something else).

I also complain about cheesy covers and titles. But then keep buying fantasy, sci-fi, and historical romance books anyway. And stuff them into my brain like gauze into bleeding wound.

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It took me ridiculously long time to realize that I always have unexplainable bruises not because I’m clumsy and bump into things, but because I’m scratching myself to bruises.

I only wish I could stop doing it in front of people and at work.

Though if I wasn’t going to work I probably wouldn’t be scratching.

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I’m on a dark dark loop where I can’t stop feeling strong resentment towards people for having it easier than me (not some random people, but someone right in front of me, in almost the same circumstances, doing what I can’d do and having 3 times less obstacles while doing it), and then resenting myself double for feeling that kind of resentment. I shouldn’t be looking into others’plates. Even if they shove them under my nose. But damn it sucks.
It also sucks that I can’t even vent without feeling guilty about it and am back to crying in bathrooms.

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Levels of mental stability on audio scale:

Single earphone in one ear -> two earphones, but taking one out occasionally -> nose-canceling headphones on -> one earphone in one ear with music in it and headphones over it with game or drama/movies in them, to be able to listen to both at the same time.

I think there’s a meme that fits this format.

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I can’t even begin to tell how often I forget where I am.
When it happens during the night, when I’m reading in bed and the light from the kindle I read fanfiction on prevents me from seeing everything else in the room, I kind of love it. Because I forget which room and which bed I am in, and feel weightless.
Other times? Not so much.

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I don’t know what changed and why now, but words with multiple different meanings have been jumping out at me and confusing the hell out of me like they never did before.

When you hear that someone is a ‘vet’, do you think veteran or veterinarian?
When you hear ‘groom’, do you think wedding or stables?
We can go on and on.
The problem is, if there’s no context, what makes you pick the right one?
And what makes you stop?

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can I please have a person who would just care to talk at me (and sometimes for me) and not expect me to engage in any social interactions adequately
pretty please

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among the stages of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction therapy’, there’s this very distinctive stage of ‘reading fluffy fanfiction about bookstores’.
it comes after the ‘reading flaffy fanfiction about coffee and/or writing’ and when things are pretty damn awful. 
it doesn’t even really matter what fandom it is. 
(it could be an original fiction for all I care, but people for some reason don’t publish fluffy therapeutic fiction unless it’s for children. Or at least I haven’t seen it.)

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I may be naive and childish, but I liked Internet so much more when people kept blogs and SNS accounts as ‘public personal diaries’, rather than for ‘businesses’.

What I liked is to read and look and stuff people posted for themselves, not asking and not caring what ‘readers’ wanted to see and how many views it would bring them.
I found a lot of good IRL friends through blogs like that when I was younger.
Even if me and my apergers are not any good at keeping said friends over distances as close as I would really like to, we still keep in touch. Which is more than I can really say about any people I met any other way.

I just… don’t understand why people would not choose ‘real and personal’ over everything else (and especially why they would create ‘fake personal to sell’).