0 comments Harsh Confession

I've been in a constant depression for several weeks now, probably a little over a month. In response, I've been turning to times spent at the bar, drawing, and actively pursuing hang-out times with friends, or just people to talk to. I've also been to the bowling alley at least once and I've gone to a few restaurants during this time frame. It's been a little more money spent than what I would've liked, but for the sake of my mental health, it was worth it. Slaying fellow students at class with a machete isn't exactly an option.

On the bright side, I think I'm finally certain what the cause is, and what I can do to remedy it. I'm a little saddened to find out what it really is, but happier to know I can fix this. You see, I've been denying myself the truth, refusing to admit what the problem really was. Strangely though, I never once thought of it before. Perhaps my subconscious didn't like the idea.

Whatever the reason for my blindness, what matters here is that for one to truly fix one's own problems, one has to admit that there actually is a problem to begin with. This can be a harsh reality.

0 comments Rain Rain Rain

It's either been raining or over cast for about three weeks now, nonstop. There really wasn't a transition for the end of Fall, either. It was just, "bam," rain; however, I have enjoyed it. It reminds me how much I love being indoors where it's warm and cozy, and of all those small pleasures that are overlooked, like hot chocolate. It's funny because about a year ago, exactly this time last year, I was expressing to Ripley how much I hated Washington weather so much. I absolutely hated the rain. Why is that funny? I couldn't say exactly but I do find it interesting how passions shift over time.

And for the record, I dislike it when people complain about the weather, no matter how screwed up it can be outside.

0 comments Oh, Time

It's frustrating when the days become shorter as Winter approaches. As they get shorter, you feel like there's more and more things to do and less and less time to do it all in. What's even worse is when I'm always constantly putting off homework (Oh, hi, I'm a college student) to doodle, chatter with friends, or writing for silly blogs. Maybe I'll invent a cloning machine to clone myself so that everything actually gets done. But then I'd be forced to battle myself to the death for my love. Would that be considered suicide?

0 comments Denial's & Unrequited Love

Denial. It's something that strikes us all at one point or another. Yet it seems to hurt the most (and leaves a lasting impression) when we're denied in a romantic sense. It leads to self questioning.

Am I good enough?

What's wrong with me?

I'm ugly, aren't I?

Or creepy maybe?

et cetera

However, I believe denial is the key to truly moving on from someone. Being denied leads to crushed hopes and dreams, of course. It requires time to move on from that, of course. You may pine over the person for days, weeks, or months and years after, but you know you'll eventually move on, and probably for the better. (Though, if you're my friend named Lillian, you're probably fucked.)

Now what is “unrequited love?” We've all heard the term, I hope. Unrequited, first off, means “not returned or reciprocated.” So from that, we learn that this love isn't returned for whatever unstated (or sometimes stated) reason. Maybe the person really is ugly, creepy, etc. Or perhaps the circumstances have something to do with it.

This begs the question, though, would you rather have un-reciprocated love or would you rather never fall in love?


I would rather never love at all. It's nearly a form of torture to have your love un-reciprocated. You know what love is, you feel it vividly, yet you're powerless to do anything about it. You can't say a word to the person in fear of ruining a perfectly good friendship. You can't touch them without some sort of desire jolting through you. You can't even look at them or speak with them without remembering how much you love them.

1 comments Work, or How the Government Steals My Money

To be completely honest, my job sucks. I work as a cashier at a local, shitty store. It's a fruit market, of course. What we sell? Well, obviously, fruit, but we also carry an array of other bizarre items. What does this bring in? An array of customers. And what does that mean? They're all fucking weird.

Weird customers? Golly galoshes, Ripley, that must be exciting!!

Frankly, it isn't. I've been yelled at in Russian, Japanese, Chinese, Arabic, Hindi, et cetera. For doing my god damned job. Is there something morally wrong with being a cashier that I should know about? Did they see me smoking outside and are worried about my health? Did I accidentally run a puppy over on my way to work? (If I did, I don't remember.) But honestly, why? It is rarely ever the cashier's fault. Really, it isn't. We just fucking beep things across glass all day.

Then, besides the weird customers, there are the overly emotional ones that need to tell you about how their lives are terrible. When I ask, "Hey there! How're you doing today?" with a fake smile plastered to my face, I really mean, "Sup, throw your shit on the belt, tell me you're fine and get out real quick-like." I don't want you to bitch about how your mother, sister, or cat is in the hospital. Or how much it sucks to be old.

I don't care, for the most part. Tough shit, there's worse things in life.

Next time, let's explore empathy, or Ripley's lack thereof.