asd=vulcan

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Eternally recurring thoughts:
“I want to go home. (I don’t have one)”
“Is it(I am) really that bad?…”
“I need a dog in my life.”
“What if “giving up and killing off a half of myself” is the way to go?..”

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I can love strangers, without loving them romantically.
And then people come and say that that’s because I’m too screwed and just can’t love anyone romantically. 
And then I say that as long as I can love at all, there is nothing too screwed about that.

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Whenever I get too tangled, too overwhelmed with everything that clings to me and tries to drown me, I tread back.
I may not have enough memories,… but I still have music I listened to 15 years ago. I have series I used to watch over and over, alone in the world. 
I cling to the feeling of ‘back then’ that comes back with the old stories I re-read. 
So I put them on the background and try to rewind my mind into that state in the past. When the air was clearer and my bones were lighter. 
And, just maybe, then I’ll have enough clarity to deal with the present.

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I have a seriously bad relationship with time. 
Bigger problems aside, 
I feel like I need at very least there to be 60 hours in a day to not feel like I’m being dragged by my hair through the mud and can’t manage anything or catch up to anything. Or like, y’know, take a breath?

And it’s not like ‘slow’ was ever particularly an adjective to describe me… But I just really, really, can’t deal with how fast the time is flowing.

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My brain likes very much to form some curios sensory memory pathways (while often vigorously refusing to form most procedural ones). 
Usually, because I almost constantly ‘do something while doing something else’, some kind of random association will cement itself in my mind. I will remember in every detail what kind of soup I ate while playing at what place in what game and while watching what movie some 15 years ago every time I eat that soup, or remember that game or movie. I will strongly associate a certain episode from a show with a certain kind of candy I ate while watching it for the nth time. Or a song with a specific chapter in a book and a memory of a stranger’s apartment or a hotel room. I have a specific perfume of mine I now associate firmly with Bloodborne. 
This is significant for me because I have memory problems and usually remember shit about my own life, unless I happen to smell something that will bring me back to some place in the past. Or like the only New Years Eve from ages 0-14 that I can remember is the one when there was Die Hard on the tv while we were getting ready to go out. 
The thing is, for more than a year now I keep reading fanfiction on certain set of characters (don’t ask me why I refuse to say ‘fandom'(not only because I misspelled is as ‘famdom’ before)) for an hour every night before I sleep and every morning after waking up (because it’s short, I can check tags, and it’s written by many different people with many different bats in the belfry perspectives), and after first few months it reached that point where I start to feel like stepping into the world of those characters the second I walk into my own bedroom. Which opens some interesting writing possibilities… if I had any more freedom about what I can read and when.

Incidentally, this is also the only routine I’ve been able to keep for this long. Or for any significant amount of time, really.

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I’ve always had troubles remembering my own age (and a tendency to blink stupidly for a few moments when people ask my name), but I guess this just gets more socially terrifying the older you become.

I’ve spent about 20 minutes talking to a person while being completely certain that I was 4-5 years younger than I actually am. And only later it downed on me. As in “Hold on… what year is this?”

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I wish I could do accents. Like on regular basis. 
My ears are all ecstatic about the sound, but I can never really control how I pronounce things for more than one specific second. 
Hell, I can’t really control what I say in general. Let alone how I say it.

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My birthday coincides with the day of Earth’s 1st contact,
and people don’t appreciate my Star Trek hoodies enough.

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I wanted to stop people from noticing things about myself, because of the ways they were voicing them in, so I ran away into my loneliness.
I didn’t really make a conscious decision to run, but when my life turned in such a way that a big effort would be required to find people and make connections again, I chose not to make that effort. 
I wanted people to stop talking about the way I touch things. Or look at things. Or eat things. 
I wanted them to stop probing and poking and criticizing.
I wanted them to stop paying attention to things about me that I don’t have enough of an attention span to notice myself. Because I never knew someone could do it kindly.
I spend a lot of time inside my head, and when someone starts noticing the things I do while not paying attention to the things I do, it makes me feel vulnerable and naked. So I wanted them to stop.

And yet, in the end, not having anyone notice things about you for you is one of those things that will eventually drive a person mad.

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rain. aroma diffuser with woody and foresty oils. hot cocoa. ambient fantasy soundtrack. 
Sunday.
I’m out.

it’s kind of pathetic to need all this, if you think about it, but we won’t think about it 
We do what we’ve got to do

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still trying to read stuff, write stuff and watch stuff at the same time,
like I can’t decide or can’t handle doing only one

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There are many places I miss being at.
The problem is, even if I miss being there, I don’t really miss living there.

Because I feel that I wouldn’t be able to live there on my own. Unless there’s someone willing to act as a buffer between me and the society in those places in everyday situations
So I’m staying put where I am, where I can do things by myself.