it is 3am and i cant sleep. this is a very angry post i hope you will forgive me. i cant express how much i hate my brother. even a year and a half of therapy cannot undo the pure hatred i have for my brother and everyone around him. my hatred is so strong it seeps into others. i hate him, i hate the people who like him, and i hate everything to do with him.

as a child i was troubled. a lot of it had to do with my own issues like resurfacing trauma and the inability to deal with the reality of my situation. part of that was because of my brother. for years my parents didnt do anything while he beat me or my siblings or cousins. it was apparently my fault for provoking him. said provocation being that i would rebel against him because i hated him. he beat me, punched me, hit me with objects or sticks. but yes, i was the trouble child.

that anger never went away. as a child i developed ptsd from the abuse to the point i could not stand tobe around loud noises, yes even fireworks. the memories i would relive in those moments, they were so vivid. it feels like a long time since then. ive "managed" my ptsd well on my own. i dont often have such outbursts like i did before, but it does come about in other ways. instead of shaking and crying in fear, i make myself scarce and hide. the child in me died, it grew into a sneaky teenager. that sneaky teenager never really stopped being that.

so i dont cry, i dont shake, i dont hide in fear anymore. ive chosen to simply stop engaging in my brother. its the little control i have in this house and in this family, aside from other things. i have secret plans to one day, when i can, if i ever can, to move away and drop all ties to my family and my past. that means a lot of family, and a lot of friends. but im sick of this house and these people. the more i live here, the more i want to get away. i got sidetracked, so back to what i was saying. my anger never went away. its grown and festered into something more. i cant control it now. it follows me in my dreams and my control over myself.

i hate sleeping because i frequently have dreams about my family. not all of them are bad. i like my sisters. but when i dream about my parents and brother, its always horrible. i dream that i run away, but i cant escape. no matter how far i run, im always brought back. no matter how much i cry, scream, or beg to be heard by the people around me, they look at me with an expression of indifference. its the expression my mom wears. when i wake up, i feel sad and angry. sometimes i wonder how could my parents do this to me, how could they favor their bum of a son over the rest of us, how could my brother do this to me. in some way, i feel like ive been abandonded.

i still feel angry. my brother tries now, as a grown man who still acts immaturely, to have a connection with my siblings and i. for my siblings, its their choice whether they want to be close to him or not. for me, there is no choice because i want nothing to do with him. there is no relationship or future where me and my brother are ever cordial. i hope that he will kill himself because it would be more dignifying that dying by accident, or by the hands of other people. how dare you think you even have the right to try and have a relationship with me when youve never meant an apology in your fucking life? how dare you think you even deserve to be among us and living here with us, to leech off us and insert yourself where you no longer belong? my anger for this man is so deep, i can't even explain in words how much i hate him. a world with him in it is a world stained by filth. even thinking about him makes me disgusted and angry.

to be honest the catalyst for this post is the fact that im even awake right now at 3am. i cannot sleep because i can hear the vibration of his voice due to my bedroom being above his. i asked twice for him to be quiet. it is wednesday. you take away my comfortability in my own home, and now you take my sleep as well.

my mom tells me sometimes, when i tell her i wish my brother would die, "dont say that, hes your family." but what do i give a shit? my parents never stand up for me, theyre always singing him praises for the bare minimum. i dont think this anger will ever go away. ive talked to my therapist about it for months, ive tried many things, but it wont go away. im so angry, i wish hed just die. if he died, my parents wouldnt have to chose him over my siblings and i. there would be no walking on egg shells, or hiding away, or strained family events. if only he;d just die.

i suppose i should hate my parents more as well for enabling him and continuing to chose him over my siblings and i, but thats a different conversation for a different day.

its nearing my birthday, but thats not what i want to discuss today. ive been meaing to come back and write for a while, i just didnt have the free time to. ive been quite busy, but today im letting myself relax a bit before i get back to business.

id like to be a little more vulnerable today regarding my life. i have not graduated highschool - yet. im very close. i have a few credits left. im so happy, at the same time, i wish i had gotten things done sooner. i bet youre thinking, why did he do that to himself? why did he even stay in school that long? theres a lot of reasons. many of which i am too old to throw tantrums for anymore.

my high school year, covid had hit. staying indoors and doing work from home actually wasnt bad. to be honest, when i first started highschool, too big and awkward in my own skin, i desparately wanted to be home-schooled, so covid was like a dream. i actually did pretty good for a while, but a lot of things happened. a lot that contributed to the graphical tank of my mental health, and the rise of mental illness. i had many a therapy growing up, i even saw a psychiatrist once. but none of that helped me during that time. i even stopped going because i was half convinced by my mom i was not ill, and also convinced that therapy could not help the wrench in my head. i felt like an alien of a person, and in a lot of ways, i was.

the truth was is that i was a severely mentally il teenager going through things that i could not properly verbalize or express. the mixture of abuse at home, both physical and emotional, social isolation, re-emerging trauma, and the death of family was enough to really just kill me as a person. at that time, i really felt like i was a living dead person. a corpse. you could say "well, you were a teenager, you could speak up for yourself, so why didnt you?" and i would hate you for that. things like that arent black and white, they arent so easily fixed. i wish youd have a little more sympathy for those who can not be like you and express what they want. as an adult now, looking back, all i feel for my younger self is sorrow. if only there were people around me who could have helped me, and if only i had been someone like that to the people around me too.

i have been in an alternative school for a few years now, more than i should be. more than i deserve to be. there were multiple times i should have quit. so many times i should have just disappeared and stopped showing up. but i kept going. i dont even know why. i would say it was because my parents kept nagging me, but i dont really think it was that. i think deep down, i wanted help. each time i would show up at that school, i secretly wished someone would save me. not in the way of excusing my assignments and letting me off with a free pass, no, i wish someone had talked to me. being at that school, i felt like i was air. i just showed up, no one spoke to me, no one reached out to me. even though i was a student, no one cared that i did no work. probably because they thought "it's his choice to fail." and that is true. but i was also a teenager then. those people watched me as i grew up. when you are near someone for so long, watching them alone and miserable, do you fault them? i ope to never be someone like that. someone who just sits by idly, watching soemone drown in their misery just because "it's their choice." if i thought like that, i cant imagine being alive.

i was nearly hospitalized multiple times while i went to that school (not in the school, but i mean while i was enrolled) when i stopped showing up. no one called, no one cared. i was near the brink of killing myself and yet i was still alone. now that ive been in therapy and im at a place in my life where i can safely think back to that time, i feel so sad for my youner self.

if only i had realized that help was possible for me then. if only there was someone who would help me realize that. but i was surrounded by people just as isolated and fucked up as me, and adults who turned away. thinking back to the misery of those times is almost like a distant dream. i dont want to be someone who lets things pass without a word. if someone is in need of help , i want to be someone who will reach out.

thinking back on those times makes me cry a bit. i feel sad thinking of my younger self and how lonely i had been. im glad to be in a better place now, with people who love me just as much as i love them. i think help is not impossible, but if i had been given that realization when i was younger, i might have finished school sooner. so i hope to give that hope to other people around me too. help is not impossible, its just around the corner. you have to take that leap first, and life will do the rest. please have hope, even if it feels like theres nothing left. give it one more tomorrow. tomorrow will bring new light, you just have to let it.

are my words cheesy? are they cringe? either way, i hope they stick with you. i hope you realize help isnt impossible, for yourself and others. in this dark world that only seems to get darker, there is hope. be someone who can express that without fear.

i think today deserves another entry. my last one was kind of a downer, so this one is a bit more light hearted.

recently, i watched the anime "Erased" with a dear friend. i love old animes, the pacing is just perfect, the art is amazing, and the stories they chose to tell are always so interesting. the title of this entry comes from the theme song of the anime by Asian Kung-fu Generation.

i love old songs too.. there's something about them that captures my heart. this one is about the passage of time and regrets of the past. i used to listen to this song when i was younger and didn't know it an an anime OP. the lyrics make me a bit melancholic but mostly it jusr reminds me of the happy times now i have with my friend. they're someone i love talking to and hanging out with, even in the silence that falls between conversations. i think my days are a lot happier with them in my life now.

actually, in my sessions with my therapist, i used to talk a lot about my struggles with friendships. but when i talked to her about my current friend and how they made me feel, she smiled so wide and told me she was so happy for me.

that person means a lot to me now. sometimes i still feel a bit awkward because i worry i can be a bit annoying or childish, but my desire to spend time with them always wins out.

i don't think comparing my old friendships and my current friendships is very healthy, at least in my opinion. i used to, in the very beginning when i was still fresh off the hurt of my old friendships and couldn't believe someone genuinely wanted to be my friend, but now when i think of my friend i just think about how happy they make me. i look forward to spending time with them and knowing what they're up to (though i feel a bit awkward asking so i tend to just look at their account). every day is so fun with them.

i used to be so afraid when it came to friendships, i still kind of am in some ways. now, though, theres no fear. im not afraid of them suddenly dipping out, or ghosting me, or having to chase them just to stay with them. i know in my heart i can trust them so im not scared anymore. im so happy to have met them. i keep the letters theyve sent me in the mail in my favorite shelf along with my favorite things, but the shelf is getting a bit crowded now, so i've been thinking about making a binder to put them in? im not sure yet. ill figure it out when i get there.

theres no conclusion to this entry i suppose. im just very happy to have met someone i can be myself around without worry. i hope there is someone in your life you feel that way about too.

nothing changes much in my life other than my mind. i feel like i've grown a ton in the past two years, especially with the help of therapy and the will to change myself. at first, i wanted to change so badly to repent for the harm i caused my previous friends. but as i continued going and make a genuine connection with my therapist, it felt less like going for others and more like going for myself.

the title of today's blog came from the idea that every year since i turned 12, i've wanted to kill myself on my birthday. one year, i almost did it. i think it was last year probably, i can't remember well. my memory isn't that great, even now. i remember i took too much of my medication the previous few days, the side affect of such action being that my suicidal thoughts and stress would increase. don't take too much of your medicine, even if you skip a day, by the way. it wasn't even my birthday at this time i believe, it was a few weeks before. i could not handle feeling so alone, even with the people around me. i almost did it. i don't know why i didn't. i'm glad that i didn't.

a lot of my struggles stem from the fact i never intended on living this long. i'm traversing a world i never intended on exploring or continuing. for many years i felt so alone despite being around so many people, even people i considered close friends. it wasn't any of their faults. i just felt so alone because i felt i couldn't open up to them. i did not have anny guidance in my life from any older figures, so i tried to become that for other people. but i didn't know anything about being someone like that, so i just ended up hurting people. i wanted to be a resposible person my friends could look up to, but in a way, i isolated myself from them because of that sense of responsibility. i did not feel like i could truly be myself, that's why i felt so alone.

anyway, when you live like i did, feeling like you'd die anyway, you make many mistakes you can't fix. you don't think about the future, nor do you truly think about your friends as deeply as you want to believe you do. i guess that's what they mean by "you can't love anyone if you don't love yourself first." there are a lot of things i've done that still haunt me. i have many dreams about old friends from school, from online, or family i haven't seen in years. in all of my dreams, i have no control.

a few weeks ago, on the night after a therapy session, i had a dream. i dreamt it was winter and that the sky was a bright blue with no clouds. i was somewhere unfamiliar, but i saw someone i knew, an old friend. it was awkward in my dream, like many of the dreams i have when it's about this person. in this dream, i said hello and they invited me inside. we talked a lot while sitting in their room. it was uncomfortable, given our past and our relationship. when i dream of this person, they always ignore me or avoid me. i can't blame them. for some reason in this one, we spoke. i said sorry, but they couldn't say they forgave me, and i think that's how it should be. after our talk, i shoveled their driveway for them and then we started walking. we walked in silence until we were in the middle of a snowy field with nothing but trees scattered around. they said something but i can't remember it, i know i felt sad though. when i woke up, i felt the hollow, barren feeling in my chest that i missed them.

the week after, i spoke to my therapist about it. she said it's my body's reminder that there are things i can't control. it's reminding me to be okay with it. i feel satisfied with that. i just wish i'd stop having dreams of this person. when i think back on my relationship with this person, there is nothing i can say to justify how i acted. in my twisted, mentally ill, teenage mind, this was love. (in the platonic sense because i don't think i could ever truly love someone romantically, even if i once desired it) that love stemmed from my twisted view of my parents love.

they say to be careful of your words or how you act around children because they are easily impressionable and end up repeating those bheavior. some of that is true, some of it isn't. in my case, it was true for love. (again, i don't think i can romantically love someone, so when i talk about love regarding myself, it is always platonic. please keep that in mind.) growing up and watching my parents, they've always had a volatile relationship, mostly my mom towards my dad. my mom doesn't like the idea of me talking badly about her, but this is my blog, so let's keep it a secret between us. anyway, i think this is because there is a generational gap between them and in some way, my mom resents my dad for taking her youth, and my dad resents my mom for resenting him. my mom is always yelling at my dad. in my child mind, i believed in some kind of twisted way this was love. "i love you so much that i want to fight with you" is how i saw it. objectively i knew it was wrong, when i was a teenager, but it was a subconscious thing i did not realize at the time. i knew it was wrong yet, it felt like love.

i wish i had gotten therapy sooner at the time. i had gotten some in elementary school for reasons i barely remembered with a lady who's name i never remembered. then again in middle school, but my mom was in my ear telling me i was not mentally ill and did not need a therapist. and then in my highschool years, i tried to survive without professional help. did not end well, by the way. then i tried again, but my mom was always in my ear telling me i did not need it, that i couldn't trust therapists, and that she wanted me to be a normal child. i tried to be one. i could not. then as an adult, or when i legally turned 18, i still felt that i could not go to therapy without my mom's permission. i did not believe that help was possible for me.

if you can do it, if you have access to it, then do it. i urge you. don't live with the same regret as me. it wasn't until i was on the edge of killing myself that i finally saw a therapist regularly. in that time, in those sessions, i've changed a lot and matured. i still feel childish in a lot of ways. i still feel angry at having my childhood taken from me too. but im an adult now and i cant have tantrums like that anymore.

what's the consensus of today's post? hmm. there's a lot of grief i have to process in continuing to live despite never intending to, but they aren't as restricting as they used to be. they aren't as heavy anymore. i don't feel like i have to repent every day of my life now. sometimes it feels like that, but most days i'm fine. i still hate my birthday, but i don't feel like i'll kill myself on it this year either. this month i'll be legally old enough to drink. i won't because i actually hate the idea of getting drunk, but isn't it funny how it's almost been 10 years since the first time i thought of killing myself on my birthday? so much time has passed and i've done so much since then. i hope i can live tomorrow too.

i don't plan on writing every day, it's just that i've completed the blog page now that i can write my thoughts. today is a nice sunny day. i woke up late, couldn't sleep again. after i woke up, i took a shower, then i fed my brother, and then i went outside to care for my animals.

as i was feeding them, i noticed the water had run out so i took it to the hose (its a bit a ways away) for a refill. even after a rinse with water, it still remained dirty because of the dirt in all the scratches in the plastic. it will get dirty again, i know. but i took the time to wet a rag and carefully clean as much of the dirt off as i could. in the end i know it will get dirty again, it's inevitable. but it's nice to see it looking clean just for a little bit.

i think the same way of life now. there will be sad, dirty, disgusting moments in life. they will wash away, they can be cleaned, but they will inevitably come back. there's no use is trying to prevent that. just as those dirty things will come, they can be washed again. in therapy, i came to realize i became the kind of person who was desparate to prevent such things. i feared being hurt so much that i hurt other people first. it was control as much as it was gratification for the "drama" in my life. i wanted to live a life of excitment as much as i wanted joy in my life. how could i live if the things i do do not make me happy?

i feel like i phrased that wrongly. it wasn't that i felt pleasure from drama, but rather that i felt in some way it "bonded" me with the people around me. i continued to act that way because i believed it would bring us closer. it did not.

as a teenager, i loathed the idea of growing up. i did not want to work, i did not want to be independent. i don't believe i was spoiled, but i had become severely attached to my family and my little bubble inside of my room that i could not believe there was happiness outside of it. there was no one to guide me, not my older siblings who did not want to be saddled with the responsibility, not my parents who worked tirelessly and focused their time on my younger siblings, nor the people i called friends. in my eyes, i was traversing the world on my own.

as an adult now, i'm looking forward to the future. it's something i did not think about before. i did not care for the future me, what i would do or where i would go. i loathed growing up because i believed it was mundane. if i were washing my animals water tank then as a teenager, i would have left it dirty because cleaning it would not have mattered. now that i am older, i do those mundane, boring things. life will always be boring i think, especially for someone like me who finds immense mental stress in things i don't find interesting (apparently common for people who are neurodivergent), but im learning to find the joy in that.

i feel like my thoughts are all over the place today. the consensus is that i overfilled my teenage life with things i enjoyed and liked because i could not stand things i didnt. i did not believe such useless things could make me happy. now that ive matured some, i actually quite like taking the time out of my day to do some useless (in my teenage mind, i believed they were useless because they were time not spent on things i could derive joy from) things like cleaning and lying down in my living room. i hope that you can find joy in that too. life will always suck, but life is also what you make it.

i've been meaning to continue coding my site for a while but i kept putting it off because of the mental stress. there is a lot that has been on my mind, yet i feel is too insignificant to talk about in therapy.

to start, i've been thinking a lot about myself and my views on fiction. i think using labels like "darkship," "comship", and "proship" feel kind of silly. i just like what i like and it's unfortunate that people think that your taste in fiction equates to your views in real life. its less so about the real harm of real actions, and more the idea of "icky" that people dont like, i realize. but where does that start and end? i find that most people like this tend to like dark fiction themself, but because they do it in a "god-honoring" way, it means they don't support the horrible actions in the media. why does it only apply to them? i feel like i won't ever understand.

i dont like calling myself a victim, it feels a bit silly when i say it. i was subject to sexual abuse by a family member at a young age and i couldn't understand it. i blocked it out of my memory, but at 12-14 i tried to dig it up again. at that time, i was not prepared or well enough to deal with the reality of the fact i had been assaulted. i tried to bury it again, but i couldn't. it kept festering in me. at the age of 17, i still could not accept it or understand it. i felt disgusted by myself. how could that have happened to me? my body felt like it wasn't my own, and that upset turned into rage. i became an angry person. i could not understand myself and i was angry.

at that time, i considered myself "anti-ship." its funny now to look back on, but it was something that contributed immensely to my own pain. i had intrusive thoughts about that trauma. i had nightmares that i was there again, in that closet, with her hands on me. and at the same time, i detested the idea of such a thing but i did not understand why. i could not even begin to unpack that trauma without feeling disgusted by my own self.

it wasnt until i was completely alone that i started to really unpack that. i guess i had gotten over the angry phase by then. or maybe, i was tired of being angry and hurting people i cared about. they say fiction affects reality, but it's more like your reality affects how you view fiction. as a teenager, i could not stand to see dark topics in ficiton because it reminded me of my own trauma. but part of that was also because i hadn't healed from it or unpacked it. as an adult, and a year of therapy later, i can look at those things and they don't affect me now. i don't think fiction will ever be as harmful as the real trauma i had been put through.

there is a fundamental misunderstanding of proship that antis fail to realize, i believe. it is not the idea of it that you should condemn, but the real harm. there is no real harm in fiction. in fiction, i was able to safely explore my trauma without traumatizing myself all over again because there was no real risk or harm. no one is hurt when you read rape yaoi. i fail to see how i could ever equate a real person's trauma to something so silly like anime boys or a fanfiction. it feels a bit insulting to have my trauma be equated to that as well. i don't understand how i could equate someone's taste in fiction for their tastes i real life either.

many victims of abuse use dark fiction to cope, and many only find out they are victims because of dark fiction. though, when you are a victim and proship, you will often be told that because you like that fiction, that your trauma was deserved or that it should happen again. why do these people always wish harm on real people rather than use that energy on real predators and abusers? why do victims need to be perfect for you to support them? why should they hide it if their coping is abnormal or "disgusting"? being a victim of traumatic abuse is an ugly thing, saying that as one myself. there is no right way to be a victim. if a victim of sexual abuse feels pleasure from the fantasy of it being done again, does that make them disgusting for thinking that? do you equate that victim to the same level as an abuser, someone who does real harm? wonder it yourself, and then think about how you view victims of abuse. often times, it is not that you want to protect victims, it is that you want to protect your idea of one. you want to be a saviour without engaging in and truly understanding the mind of a victim. you don't actually care for victims, they just want to use victims trauma to justify your feelings of discomfort for things you have the luxury of never experiencing.

i say this because there are people out there that don't like me, and probably dislike me more now that they know im profiction. i believe your ideas on the world are very immature, and that if your only problems in life are what people like in fiction, then you don't really have a life at all. if the idea of harm is more disgusting to you than the real harm of harrassing victims, telling victims to kill themselves, that their coping should be "private", that their abuse should happen again and that they deserve it, you might need therapy yourself.

aside from victims, there are people who just like dark fiction. i don't think there's any harm in that. no real person is being hurt. when you look at an anime character, you don't think of a real person. you're thinking of pixels on a screen. they are not real. this is why fictional murderers and villains are loved so much, is it not? it is the same for dark sexual fiction. it is a fantasy. it is not real. there is no real person being harmed.

anyway, i don't think i'll ever get through to the minds of those who consider themselves antis. thats just how it is, i suppose. this is just some retrospective thinking. i believe fiction wil always be just that. fiction. it will always be a safe way to explore dark themes and naratives without hurting real people. for myself, it is the same.
井蛙不可以语于海者，拘于虚也；夏虫不可以语于冰者，笃于时也

if you've reached the end of this entry, i encourage you to read sam aburime's "hate narratives, conditioned language and networked harassment: a new breed of anti-shipper and anti-fan – antis" it's genuinely a great read.

井蛙不可以语于海者，拘于虚也；夏虫不可以语于冰者，笃于时也 井蛙不可以语于海者，拘于虚也；夏虫不可以语于冰者，笃于时也

庄子采用了拟人化的手法，通过河伯与海若的对话，讨论时空的无限性与人的认识的相对性，指出人的认识、见解和观念受环境影响很大，生活环境狭小的人，在诸多认识上具有片面性，不能理解高深远大的事物。src