If you need help in physics or math or some other hard science (or some other problem), then let me know!

It can become plum impossible to believe in the free will of human beings sometimes. I finally allow myself to give up my grief and just like that my life begins, far outside the realm of my control, again. Like everything was on pause until this moment. And indeed, emotionally, it certainly was for me. But this is a physical thing that's happening. So what is it that makes me free? This would've happened regardless of my emotional state, and it is absolutely necessary for me to achieve my ideal future. But there were very specific events needed, including many small decisions made by me, that made my awareness of it occur. Ultimately, I wouldn't have become aware without my own personal resolution. And, I should note, the timer on this is very strict. As in today or trouble.
So to forge the future I think will happen, what I believe is my fate, this pseudo-random and vital event happened, and I only became aware in time because I had, what I believed at the time, was an earnest resolution to have such a future. In this moment, my past thoughts and emotions are now inextricably tied to my future behavior. As if determined by my future... How am I free? How is anyone?

Over the next day, I know what I'm going to be doing. And perhaps that is the consolation? I did choose to resolve, yes. What if I had not? Then I would've missed this opportunity, but I also wouldn't have wanted it. That's the essence! I chose to open my eyes, and I was rewarded for my desire. Speedily. Creepily.

We can choose only to open or close our eyes. And indeed, perception is not reality: it's power. The eye is not a tool of sight, but of control; the bearer of eyes can see, but is also seen. We are free in our sleep, our dreams. But a dream can be a nightmare, and sleep is impotent. And all of us reside in a state of sleepwalking. Not totally free, but not totally controlled. And the more we try to wake up... the more the world is like a lucid dream: controlled, but boring.

So you decide: what do you want? A coma, or insomnia???

Eventually, one can't validate the pain. That is, one can't validate one's behavior based on pain. It stops being rational, or even reasonable. Growth...

These wounds never heal, till the day it's all forgotten.

My narrative changed quite a bit, but more of it didn't. So how much can I complain, really? I have my mind, somehow, I didn't lose it. I have a home, a sort of guilded cage. Yet less of a cage than before! But also less guilded. Freedom...

Certainly, time and truth are indistinct. All questions get answered, eventually. Even if the answer is to never have asked the question. Unfortunately, some answers are ugly, and my family is uglier. Other than one or two, I want nothing to do with them. Less funerals, too. Love...

I know what I want. I know what to do. I know my name. Knowledge!

In all senses, Happy New Year!

Also, we will not reunite. But I love you and, more importantly, I respect and respected you. You gave me your Will. I, homonculus, gear, calculated and planned, will do service to your sacrifice. And, of course, service to humanity, but when was that ever in question? And I am gay, but I wonder if you knew? Oh well, I'm sure that you'd agree: considering how you died, and that smell, being straight is not a real option. I'm going to find a guy that's right for me. This sin can't possibly be real. Lastly, I apologize for telling you his name. I still haven't quite figured him out, so I shouldn't have invited you into that conversation. I'm sorry to have brought you such consternation. You did everything for me, like no one else ever has. You were the only one who was, guaranteed, always on my side. Like no one else. My best friend... you got me over every challenge, and challenged me in turn. My wishes know no end... but I know my being: I will not get to share with you. I am grateful for the 23 years we got together. It was a mercy that we got so many. On that particular day of my wedding, I will reserve for you a seat, longing that you could be there, like you always were... I have little else to say, because other than my being gay, I really was honest with you. But we will not reunite. Until God tires of this, I. Will. Not.

I love you. I miss you. Mom, you deserve a good night's sleep. With two tears, goodbye.

Just got over one of the most fucked up instances of my life. My only two living family members hate each other, which they just spent the last week re-discovering. (A) lied to me repeatedly, and is allied with a self-serving ingrate. (B) is a greedy, spiteful, possibly criminal man-child. I'm stuck with one or the other, and it's like picking the weaker of two poisons. And they are both poisonous, untrustworthy people.

Fuck me, it's worse than watching my mother die.

This is the kind of moment I wish I had a friend I know is on my side. Not family who is only on my side if I'm on theirs. They each have an ally that is there only for them. But my best friend and advocate, the only person worthy of my trust, died months ago.

And they don't realize that all of their hate, their horrible words, and their awful actions: these things have no impact on each other, but they hurt me. Because I'm caught in the middle, and I love them both, but they don't try. Not even a bit.

My god.......... I could use a hug. I know that it's only been a couple of years, but I think I finally deserve to receive, and not give, a hug.

Venting in these journals is greatly cathartic! I'm not chronically depressed, but a lot has happened, and some days or hours are harder than others. Coping by writing expedites healing.

I've done few things for myself. I fear the hypocrisy of instant gratification so much that I have repulsed even delayed-and-deserved gratification. Over the past year I have bought five games for myself: two for my birthday, two apps, and one that constituted my graduation gift. Games are, or maybe were, essential to my identity. But now I've wanted and wanted for so long, without fulfillment, either because I couldn't afford it or because I feared feeling guilty that I spent money -my money- on myself, that I've lost why I wanted in the first place.
Everything about me I've had to change or suppress. I've acquiesced to whatever other's wanted so readily (in particular my mom), and have went out of my way for others so often without reciprocation. The only two things that I've allowed myself are sleep and masturbation, and not without immense personal justification. These are the only two things I feel and am free about.
And that was then. Now? I watch others play games, I have abandoned enjoying food (it's all bread, cheese, salad and bland coffee anyways, literally 1984 style), I'm a guest at where I live, I have no car or money for transit, no friends (goes without saying), not in school anymore, I had to lose my dog and my city, I fucking lost my past and my ego. It's gone! Even the memories. Anything I could call my own. I'm 10 percent of what I was two months ago, and I have no idea how to regrow.

Too few good memories.
Much too few for this.

Well, my mom died.
While I am no stranger to hospitals or funerals, no death before has been quite this destructive or personal than this one. Home... gone. Hometown... gone. Debts... not gone. Funeral, flights, moving costs, all add up to well over thirty grand. I've been so overworked, that I have only just begun to grieve.

Where for the heart to even begin?

...

This sucks horribly, but sadly, nothing I am unfamiliar with.

Do you guys ever consider it odd that people on the internet are a bit inside-out? Consider, for example, my page. Do you know my name? Do you know my gender, age, ethnicity... anything that a person who walks by me on the street automatically knows? But, you do know what I would consider to be 'hard to acquire' information in any other environment. It's a dinner party where guests are introduced by their fetishes and fantasies, while a name might be the subject of intimate dirty talk: "Oh, I can't wait until tonight, when we'll talk about our phone numbers and street addresses until we stink of personally identifying information."

One day, there will be personally identifying information orgys: mark my words. It wiil be the 21st century version of 19th century level of risk.

Made it past Mother's Hell Day without a blow up.

Getting through this day really tests one's Machiavellian spirit.

I have found my name.

I wondered where it was hiding!