Its 115am of 15 April.
Today I discovered the suicide album, Frank Sinatra. And the last two lyrics of one of the triple songs … good lol. Reading what you have been thinking, and listening to it being said in a song, its a weird pain and pleasure together. Someone else has felt this too, and someone else passed through it too … its a sense of acknowledgement of strength that is nowhere in you, but is evident from an external source. Its there, the lyrics, the song, the feels, I am not alone. This guy who wrote this, thought this. Felt it. So … yeah, I will be alright.
And I made the first social media post after so much time today. Took me 4ish hours, from research all the way to completion but as it happens with everything in life, repeatition will hopefully help me lower the time without compromising the quality.
And I took one of my siblings to the cafe today. I was trying to figure out a way to best communicate why she should opt for education that will bring in good money (yes, yep, and yeah) instead of doing what feels attractive atm. And I settled on telling her about my story, how I wished I had done something different. See this makes me vulnerable, which is okay because this is immediate family, while not giving off any big-bro vibes that just get rub straight off of any teen’s mind. They don’t like to be told how to do stuff. You’ve gotta be real, be open with them and then hope for the best.
Tess the last two or three days have not been going good honestly. You know why. But I am trying right. Books. Skates. Family time. Learning new skill. KCD. I am trying. I even decided today to go to the psychiatrist again but she charges like 6000/session which is too much for me atm so … can’t do that. That’s like 24K straight down. I can’t afford that much right now.
I guess this is maturity. Did Anne Frank ever get to be mature? Did Tess of the Durbervilles? Did Mumtaz Mufti or Shahab Sab or Insha? Or am I speaking too much.
Bye.
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