Dear SR,
Apologies if these are coming at a slower pace than they used to. Although, let’s be honest they never came at the quickest pace to begin with. There have been a number of times where I have started to write, only to give up pretty close to the start. I became privy to the fact that other people read these so I’ve been more hesitant than usual. It’s not that I have a problem with that, it’s just that I didn’t make the website with the intention of people looking in on these. When I realized a few people I know keep up to date with everything on here I suppose I was use unsure of everything I’ve written here. I mean even my short stories are half baked at best. I think some of them are full on rough drafts that I never found the motivation to actual touch up.
Oh boy, would you look at that; more excuses from the guy who won’t do anything for himself. I’ll stop with the self pity.
Would you like to hear what’s new? Is that selfish of me? To ask a question that I intend on answering even if I don’t get a definitive answer back? I could wait for a delusion of you to give me an answer, but I suppose that’s besides the point. I’m just gonna do the basic housekeeping parts of this and see where it goes.
Well, I am living with a friend now. It’s a temporary matter, but it has proven to be nice. Although I do feel like a freeloader seeing as I can’t seem to successfully find any work that pays decently enough. That isn’t a problem right now, but with the amount of expenses coming in the near future, I can’t afford to wait around. All the trade schools that seem interesting have some crazy asking prices for a lack of guaranteed work.
I’d love to tune pianos, but i’m not sure I could turn that into consistent work. I know you would tell me to just get back into playing the piano, but that isn’t a career I can rely on. I know that’s not the point, but I do still need to find a job. Twenty five and no career prospects is pretty pathetic, don’t you think? It seems that everything I would genuinely love to make a lifelong career out of are either total luck or well outside my reach. I’d love to author stories, but I don’t think I have the skill or the audience to write a compelling story. So, I can’t exactly rely on that one. As for my bookshop/cafe idea that I’ve been talking about as a dream of mine for years, that requires quite a large chunk of money to get off the ground. Money I don’t and likely never will have if things continue to go this way.
Alright, I don’t want to talk about that anymore.
…
I had a nightmare last night. It wasn’t a flashback or a surreal interpretation of guilt and grief. That’s..good? Can’t say. Essentially someone broke into the house, tied me up and then proceeded to attempt to murder my friend. I woke up right before it happened, but it made me feel the need to stay up and make sure nothing bad happened in the night. I even went and scoped out the house just in case. Honestly, could’ve been worse.
How do you think I am doing? Sometimes I think I am doing so much better, but then I also kind of think that is just because I am around people I want to be around more often. I don’t want to take that for granted, I love them all and love their company. I just am a bit unsure if that is actually me making an improvement or if its me being able to defend myself from these things because of what is currently around me. I suppose this is nothing groundbreaking. I think too much about this sort of thing. I think one way, then second guess, then triple guess, then second guess my second guess. It’s honestly exhausting.
I recently had an incident where I came to realize some memories I genuinely though were true weren’t. My therapist says that’s likely due to covering up some other traumatic moment or avoiding thinking about it, but I genuinely thought all of that was true. I don’t see how that is at all protective of my psyche. I guess the brain kind of warps itself to make things work. Even if it covers up a shit stain with another shit stain. Through sessions and my own research I’ve found people with similar issues. They argue that it is perhaps that the brain isn’t confident that it can fool itself completely, so it keeps some details and covers up the rest. Even if it is done poorly or in a harmful way. Anything to remove itself from the truth is, in the brains ideation, a beneficial adjustment.
When putting the parts together in somewhat coherent understanding, I suppose it seems obvious now that someone has brought it front and center for me. I won’t lie, it made me question myself so much more and the idea of still not knowing the full truth of some things bothers me a lot. I wanted to just cease in that moment. It was a difficult few days for sure. I try not to think about it for too long now. It only proves to upset me. I mean if you can’t even tell if the memories that make you up are real, it only goes to make me question how much of me is real. I don’t know. I guess I already struggle with identity so that thought only makes it more difficult to attach myself to some kind of oneness. But I suppose that is better than living my entire life as a lie to myself.
I seem to be questioning more than my own memories though. Due to other apparent factors I seem to be questioning my identity in other facets. Especially that of gender, but not exactly in a healthy fashion. It kind of upsets me quite a bit. I feel like questioning that isn’t a problem. It’s a bit later than I would’ve liked, but it’s not out of the question. My problem, to me, lies with the idea that I can’t tell if it’s me that’s questioning things, or if it has to do with the fact that other voices and thoughts live in my brain that aren’t strictly male. So, when I don’t feel typical to my sex, I can’t even really trust my questioning. So I question my questioning too. Because I already struggle to separate myself from everything else going on in my head, so if I am going to have these sorts of questions, or even dysphoric thoughts, I’d like to be able to differentiate them from my own.
I know hard lines like the ones I am hoping for are kind of something I can no longer ask for, but it still really all rubs me the wrong way. I’m probably just repeating myself from your perspective. Anyways, I’m feeling kind of drained. I haven’t really slept today so i think I’m gonna sign off.
To anyone else reading…uhh i’m sorry? I’m not really writing these for you. I hope that doesn’t come off as callous. I just never intended to have an audience for these. Or maybe I’m a selfish asshole who makes these public with the intention of them being seen. I honestly wouldn’t know. I can’t seem to figure myself out, so anyone reading this could have an even better understanding of myself than I do. I hope it does you well, because it seems to do less and less for me as time goes on. So, whether you read into these letters and come out seeing me as a pretentious piece of shit or as a someone who is simply what is written down, that is ultimately fine. Bringing this all into light won’t change much if you ask me.
love always,
wb