I kind of hate most of ‘how to’ books and blog posts.

The only kinds of ‘how to’s I can accept are the the technical manuals, as in ‘how to correctly assemble a bookshelf/repair your appliance and not brain yourself’ kind of things.

The ‘how to’s that talk about art and living in general make me nauseous.

I think, compared to my dislike towards people who need to have someone to tell them how to live or write, I despise those who are all too happy to tell others how they should live or create things even more.

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.

sometimes I get these moments when I feel like writing might the very only and last thing I have for myself

and in the next moment I hate it, my writing, for it with all my heart

Every day since learning the diagnosis has more or less been: I still have no idea why/what xxx (insert an aspect of human behavior largely considered normal) is, but now at least I feel marginally less pressure to understand.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve never grown out of the baby-talk. Not the one adults use to talk to babies, but the one when babies can just babble on and on by themselves or at someone, and when people speak back to them, they may have a genuine desire to communicate, but they kind of speak in entirely different language, about entirely different thing, without noticing. And sometimes I feel like I keep talking out loud because I’m waiting for someone to not only speak back in the same language, but also say something that I didn’t already hear the voices in my head say like 50 times before. Preferably something nice.

I howl. And I listen back.
And when someone answers but doesn’t say the right thing I, depending on my state, either sigh tiredly and turn away, or snarl back. And it’s stupid and not fair to anyone, but is life. Sort of. And sometimes I’m sorry for not being adult and sane enough to interact with everyone reasonably (and be properly grateful for everyone who tries to respond whether they’re helping or not), but sometimes I’m not sorry anymore, and I forget to care about pushing blameless people away, because I’ve been howling into the emptiness practically all my life. Yet still too stubborn to just shut up.

I want to escape from my thoughts into reading,

but I’m also already stressing out about the fact that I only brought 4 books with me to last me 2 weeks, none of them of the same series, and I’ve already almost finished one of them on the day 0 (on the plane).

And this is not a country where I could just go online and get the books I want delivered next day. They don’t even have Amazon here…

I also, apparently, choose stressing out and suffering without the books I want, to just buing them on my kindle. I just can’t make myself do it, even though I could just buy all the books of the series I want to continue reading right now, and it would be like 3 times cheaper than waiting before I return to Japan and order paper copies. This is so irrational I kind of want to smack myself, but feel like it still wouldn’t help.

me: I need a big dog. So it will protect me and walk me.
mother: don’t get a dog so it can perform the functions of a man 
me: no, I need a dog so I won’t need to ask a man to perform functions of a dog