i remember damage

02/23/25

notes on future site plans

02/22/25

SSRI talk cont. / the ballad of a lost strap-on [nsfw]

02/20/25

entry number #1 / feb-april 2024 reflection

02/20/25

song ((d[-_-]b))

You know, I understand how to use toyhou.se and some similar things, and yet this site (neocities) continues to confuse the hell out of me, so in all likelihood I will be figuring out more as I go along and potentially breaking things in the process– if some shit looks jank, this is probably why! A lovely friend put this website together for me, and I am doing my best to wrap my head around it and learn over time.

Last year left me in such a bad state that I did away with a majority of my known profiles, between my health issues and the stalking and loss of numerous relationships– which, I am still dealing with the aftermath of as we now enter the, uh... equally concerning state of 2025, to say the least. Around this time last year, I was actually doing really well, though– well enough to where I felt acclimated & healthy enough to look into getting off some of my meds, which my doctors at the time approved.

I could get off SSRIS! I'd made it to something I'd been looking forward to!

Buuut then April happened, and with it went two of my close relationships– I lost someone I had considered a good friend, someone I now see as deceitful who had used me as a means to an end then not long after I made the decision to finally cut off my father in response to him posting a bigoted rant on Facebook– neither of which I dealt with very well, which culminated in me not spacing things out like I should've and slipping into withdrawal and dealing with brain zaps among other things.

I'm still dealing with it, admittedly, mainly in regards to my father as it's something I've fought with my entire life– but where do you draw the line when someone you love constantly says and does things that hurt you? It's made me very bitter, I think as a means of coping, since on the one hand I can say that he never was much of a father anyway and that he's overall a sad sack of shit, but on the other, I'd fought with making this decision for so long as I felt that it would almost be... wrong, or cruel to him– that it was almost something owed to him, just because he is my father I guess, and so we are forever tied that way, but realistically he is an awful person and something I would never tolerate from any other person in existence. In my adulthood, I have told so many stories–a decent amount which revolve around him and his shenanigans–to be met with responses like, "that's fucked up," and "I'm sorry that happened to you," but I still don't think that it's totally occurred to me just how bad things were due to how I've been conditioned.

Forgiveness is a difficult concept for me in these instances, with my parents, and I don't think it is something I will ever be able to achieve. I feel sorrowful that I believe I will never be able to have a normal relationship with either of them, and I continue to grieve it and wish circumstances were different. I know it won't change, and yet it still feels so fresh despite the fact that I know they've both been this way for 25+ years/my whole life. The last phone call I made to my father, I think it was around 15 or 20 minutes long and predominantly consisted of me screaming at him and just saying things that have been in my heart and head for a very long time now. Part of me does feel bad, bad that I almost see it as liberating like some kind of gung ho teenager for having finally told him to shut the fuck up, but I am simultaneously glad that I was able to get it out and believe it should be abundantly clear why that decision was made– I know it's somehow not, though, to him at least, considering how entrenched in bullshit he is.

I would've liked to think that things would be better this time around, here in 2025 but things are still rough and rough for everyone right about now, I think. I am trying to be more open towards the idea of posting publicly again, but the anxieties have not left me between the worries of being watched and things like misunderstanding Internet social cues, and an inability to parse tone through text. I would love to do things like invite more people online to hang out or spend time together, but it does continue to confound me the dichotomy between the reactions to stuff like this in person versus online; I cannot read people nearly as well through text/online, and the last thing I would want to do is bother or offend anyone, so I think I tend to just shy away or shy away completely at the slightest hint of wondering whether someone online dislikes me and struggle to understand how to naturally make connections on the Internet nowadays. Everything feels so much more hostile.

I dearly love my real-life friends and the people around me, though there can be a specific social drainage to in-person activities, nor is it always even possible between our varying schedules and obligations– and so I know it would still be beneficial to try to make more connections online again; I know I need to try to not let my prior experiences ruin it, but it is hard, even more so when I'm left wondering what's still happening. I want to feel safe, I want to feel welcome and happy, I truly do miss how the Internet once was such a safe haven for me and hope I can at least achieve some semblance of that once more.

02/22/25

*this entry contains nsfw content*

song ((d[-_-]b))

One of my fears with getting on antidepressants to begin with was wondering how it would affect my libido– and affect it did! That shit sucked! Everything became so fucking unfulfilling and "meh," but my mental & emotional health were in the absolute gutter, and I knew that regardless it was necessary for me to get on something at least semi long-term.

So, I went through the motions, I found myself back in therapy and ultimately on lexapro, I put on the weight that I sorta expected to with it, and it ended up being something I would juggle with for several years– but, it did help! For a time. It did genuinely help me function and just, exist in conjunction with therapy for a while, but eventually the side effects became so horrendous that I believed it was doing more harm than good; I could not sleep normally, I would constantly be sweating and wake up drenched in sweat from the heat intolerance and/or intense, vivid nightmares (and sometimes, terrors), and while it could be argued that I was indeed overall doing better, I was struggling severely with my body image due to the weight I had put on as a result of it. It made work harder too, both between needing to be outside & dealing with the heat and the general exhaustion I was feeling from a perpetual lack of sleep.

Cue me last year looking into finally getting off of it, as I thought that I was ready.

(I was not)

Of course, as life does, it proceeded to bitch slap me with a slew of horrific life events immediately afterwards; it made transitioning off of it extremely difficult, and I more so cold turkey-ed rather than doing it like I should've. All of it worked together to thrust me into an intense, deep pit of depression and psychosis combined with suicidal ideation, and I started to feel things I hadn't in a very long time– the palpitations, the hyperventilating, the near ever-present paranoia and just feeling completely & entirely out of my own skin.

That period of April through the summer was one of the worst times of my life in recent years. I know I wasn't acting like myself and that I engaged in behaviors I deeply regret and recognize were reckless & unfair to those around me; I tried to downplay how badly I was doing, out of a habit of self-preservation and also not wanting to burden those around me, but I recognize that there were definitely things I could've done better and that I should've & still do need to work towards improving on my honesty and reaching out rather than pushing things down until it explodes; it's something I know I can oftentimes forget, that I have lovely people in my life who do truly care about & want what's best for me despite what my brain can say, and I know that I need to appreciate them more and not at times be such a constipated asshole with my emotions. The people who were there for me mean more than I could ever express (but I know I should still try), and I love them so fucking much.

Now that my SHIT IS MORE IN ORDER, one benefit of being off of SSRIs is that I've started to get back into kink more now that I can... you know, actually enjoy it and not feel like jacking off is the equivalent of a static TV screen. I lost my fucking strap though, RIP to her I don't know where she is so I said, "eh, why not," and spoiled myself with some new goodies, which has been fun :)

Finding better language to express things in the meantime has helped too, I think; I realized that I'm aromantic, and looking into it & further within myself have helped me understand my boundaries & limits, and the limits of what I can offer. The last thing I would want to do is hurt anybody, but I know that in both sexual & non-sexual instances prior my failure to even really just understand myself and communicate properly may have caused harm– so, now I'll do better! I want to be responsible and considerate and caring, which I believe is the bare minimum for those involved in kink & BDSM in particular anyways.

I haven't had any real nightmarish experiences this time around, thus far– awkward, sure, but I feel that's pretty normal and normal especially when you've been sorta dormant or laying low for a while. I've been reminding myself too, that many of my experiences were when I was what, like 22-23? Of course I did stupid shit! I had some dummy ideas and misconceptions! I was inexperienced! I'm much more comfortable with where I'm at now and feel actually capable of being a good dom.