5th Day of April

 I really want to have OCD, that means that all those horrible thoughts haunting me from the fourth day of April are a mental disease of which I can’t put the blame in, it is all the fault of the alien ego, caused by a dissociating thought process, I feed it attention with my anxiety and I fucking want to die, all the time

besides, I have a fucking strong point of a compulsion, that being my daily enemas, in the plural because I must do, what, maybe five a day? I realized that it became a problem when the bile stopped coming yellow and started coming red


And now, that I have confessed the things tormenting my inner world, I don’t feel lighter, not in the slightest, but I feel more empty, and, it is not a bad feeling, like, I rather feel empty and tired than those emotions strong enough for me to punch a needle through my fingers, to draw blood, I am so glad to feel empty, like, half empty or half full? the thing with the cup, I rather be fully empty, I like being empty, I just wish I could had a better control of what is going to be filling me, like, truly, I want to be rawed so hard that I can only move with the help of an wheelchair, but no, no no no no no no no, what I got instead, is dread, guilt, self loathing, a self sustaining spiral of shame, like really, if I could turn my negative feelings into energy, I could power the whole country of Brazil, US would had me shot dead in record time.


I wished upon a star, to set me free, to let me see the light for one last time, instead, it brought me a storm of blood, it rained read, and through the cracks of the wood, the scarlet liquid drip dripped down the walls, the metallic smell filling the room, the way it pooled, I never stopped how the smell of rotten smell would be like, I thought that it would dry out or it would smell like rotten meat, but no, surprisingly enough, it smelled like nothing, after so long sleeping in a room flooded by blood, I stopped being able to sense any smell, like when you live by a field of flowers you can’t quite appreciate the beauty of a singular flower, but the magnitude of its beauty in number is so grand that your mind can never fully grasp it? so, I guess it was like that, it just gave up on trying to smell at all, but it was nice to have something to quell my thirst with;


The draps, the silk, the cloth, you never stop to think how the parts of a whole where made, where they came from, who gathered the raw components, who wanted something made reality, it is kind of fun, isn’t, to dwell in a pointless exercise such as this, I can never get enough of it, who dyed the silk, who bought the thread, the stitches, why would they stitch this way and not the other, creation is not something easy to do, it is quite the hard excercise, and only the exceptional are able to


I wish I was exceptional


but the blade sings, the shadow calls, in the deepest and darkest places of this realm, is where my place to be, to hold the lifeline of the enemies of man into my hands, sometimes for the crime of crossing the wrong people and seeing the wrong thing, I am dispatched to deal with the cleaning


I have no idea how I am going to pull this off, but I am going to write the 5 words that I am due in less than an hour and a half, before the time reaches 4 am, I can no longer be doing this, or I don’t know, I am trying to write as fast as I can, I know that the hurt is way less on my wrists at this time, and I don’t even know what I want to write, I am so torn, what should I write? I don’t know, I am looking for inspiration, I told myself before going to sleep yesterday that today was going to be the day that I was going to have a break through, I wonder if I should turn down the music, but, like, I don’t think I can bear the weight of silence, my head hurts, my attention is split, I hear the music, I focus on my words, it flows heavily through my mind, but I can no longer care for the words, the rhytm, the rhytm is flowing heavily on my molasses veins, I don’t want to be writing right now, but I am, because I have a goal, and I have been quite negligent with it, haven’t I, I should treat it with more care.


I turned down the music, I have only the sound of a fan and the sounds of my keyboard, if I try and think too heavily on the words while they flow out, my head starts to hurt, I am quite sleepy, I am so very tired, but I have a duty to myself, I was just watching the amount of days that I have already made possible, but now, now I can no longer turn back, I have words to written in today and I am going to be doing that, so, as long sd my head lets me, I will be writing

Lets do a little writing exercise where I write with closed eyes, my eyes, they are hurting so bad.


not going to happen, I see.


I can’t fix myself, I don’t know how to do that, I don’t have the slightest of idea, but I think that I am doing good here, so, as long as I keep striving forward to be better, I am going to make it through.

I feel like today, it is not even half as exciting as the confessions of yesterday where, I guess because they weighed so heavily in my mind, I had just so much to think about, so much drive, so many feelings, because when you have a lot of feelings, negative or positive, the art flows from your fingers like the madman of a madhouse, or something, I can’t be doing metaphors with my head aching, it feels like it is going to split down in the middle and I haven’t reached not even half of my goal.

So, I am wondering, what to talk when you are empty, like I am today, I feel so… ethereal? I doubt this is the word, but I remember waking up, not long ago, like 10 pm, and thinking “my thoughts are just like melted chocolate” it was such a weird thought, but they really felt that way, heavy, dense, and so malleable, like, I completely didn’t hate that feeling, for once, it wasn’t running a thousand miles per hour, I could hear my heart beating, I could feel the rising of my chest, my thoughts, I thought about things that worried me without a spike of anxiety, I really did, like, I could see such a clear vision of myself, like, without the worries, of trying to explain my behavior to myself, without nagging thoughts on the back burner waiting to come to the forefront, no, it was just bliss


I wish I had thoughts that felt like melted chocolate more often, I rarely remember ever feeling more at peace with myself.


But there was one other moment, it was during a field trip,  it was me and my parents on this old car (throughout my life, I saw seven cars in the possession of my mom and dad, like, mom had four different ones and my dad had two, both falling to pieces, I remember feeling on that road trip, with the song playing from my earbuds, the sun coming through the car windows on my sprawled body on the back seat, half awake, half asleep, in a stupor, maybe in a state of melted chocolate thoughts as well, I am not sure, I remember thinking to myself “this here is the happiest moment of my life” and I guess it was, I guess it was the happiest moment on my life, it sure feels like it has been all downhill from there, but I think I am hanging on, if barely by a thread.


I wish, I don’t know what I wish, I wish to excel at the things I choose to invest my time in, like this here, I wish to become the greatest writer alive ever, like, you know, small stuff, surpassing stephen king, surpassing jk rowling ( I think she would be the easiest, like really, the only momentum she has keeping her afloat is the power of nostalgia) grr marting, for his intrisicate plot and character, brandon sanderson, because of his, I guess his word count, he doesn’t has a lot going on when it comes to setting and characters, but he know how to write a mean two thousand pages a piece.


like, I don’t think I would be able to write like brandon sanderson, when it comes to more than one system of magic, like, they are all the same in the stormlight archive, you use stormlight to fuel whichever power you need fueling, but like, it has a lot of diverging powers that need special mindsets, has it own set of rules to work and what they do, I doubt I would ever care for it, like, at all, on its own, but it is a lot like that for all his fun, they are power system junkies and brandon sanderson is their drug dealers.


You see, I want to start reading this book, that is called, the lies of locke lamora, from the gentlemen bastard, trilogy, saga, I have no idea how many books it has, but I really want to start reading because it just has such stellar recomendations, and I was 20 pages in into it, and I was reading,  I was liking of what I was reading, but I guess, I just… didn’t have energy? steam? I really want to read, to get invested, to have this characters in my life since they sound so goddamn delightful creatures, you write what you read, and like a body, your writing needs diversity, it needs a whole gama of nutrients to keep its bones standing up and for it to be strong, and I know, I just know I will be having quite the shittiest time if I decide to write books or novel based on the webnovels or webcomics I have read online, just… it isn’t going to be good, it is junk food, it is empty calories when it comes to literature, I know what I want to write, I want to write epic fantasy, horror and romance, so I should start reading some stephen king for the horror, I know that pet sematary is like, one of the most disturbing pieces, ever, like, ever. I should read J.r.r. marting for his intrisicate world building, politics, characters, interactions, suspense, and a way to make the equivalent of gold with words alone. I want to be like grr martin. and for the romance, I want to read jane austen novels, I really should, I want to write gay relationships, guy on guy type of thing, but my only reference is shitty chinese novels and whatever a horny 45 year old woman is feeling like writing, So, jane austen, the author of pride of prejudicee, maybe, I am not sure if she is, but I think she might be, I know she is a master of romance, she can weave the trope of romantic triangle so well that you can never guess which suitor will end with at the end, and so great at making chemistry, like the pink, bubbly, and so snarky kind, that it doesn’t matter which character, you just want want to thank the author for the great time


and there was nine… I want to read agatha christie, I really do, I look at the amount of books she has released, and it just makes me so tired, and sad


like, really, I know exactly how to become a better writer, how to become a good writer, I know I need to diversify my diet, I know I should be focusing more on learning from others, that I should read those writers writting advice, and maybe watch a video lecture to end, like, that sounds fun you know, true commitment.

So, just like you are what you eat, the same concept apply here, you write what you read. and since I have been telling you about how unbalaced my diet truly is, you must be wondering, if you are not reading, none of those acclaimed books, so very famous, so very important, what the fuck in hell are you reading

talking about hell, I really like this idea that I had some long time ago, it was about this pair of rock musicians that decide to drive down the highway to hell to make a pact with the devil so they could make it huge, then, the first book it would be this road trip story, about the weird pit stops along the way, the things tryiing to get them , like, demon truck drivers, cursed old ladies, the sky so black the clouds are made of ashes and it rains blood

“how is it raining blood? like, how there is even clouds up there? up there is like the ground floor to normal people, it shouldn’t even have enough atmospheric pression to form clouds, or any of this shitty weather they keep throwing at us


one day, from the depths of the ocean, something rose, a structure big enough to be a continent, linked to every place on the superficie of the planet.


It was hell on earth.

the deeper you go into this highways, the crazier the stuff gets.


on the way, these two metal heads end up finding this demon child, who is just lost in the middle of a black sand desert, and the buddy comedy becomes a last minute parenting story


but oh well, they would be just as crazy about music as the get go.


okay, so, going back to my taste in fiction, it is not the most cultured when it comes to it, no, lots of progression fantasy, a lot o brain dead romance novels, a lot of wish fulfilment on both fronts


and I am trying to think, what works are my favorites when it comes to both of these-


I am sorry, I am so torn up between just puking words or putting real care into them, like, I don’t know what I want to do,         i         want to finish as fast as I can so I can finally go to sleep, but I also want to fucking improve as a writer, I want to take this here as seriously as I can and I doubt that I am doing it when I am only spewing words left and right, without a care in the world of how they should interact, or even if they should


Highway to Hell

Moses parted the sea so the people of israel could be free from their shackles at the hand of the pharaoh of which enslaved them, a noble cause, god did so that he could command the waters as he saw fit, as he thought it to be the best way to handle with a crowd of starving weak people, that could not bear to do a detour, to take another route, as the soldier aproached and the less leeway they had.


Well, I don’t know where I am trying to get with this story, I don’t think I have ever believed it to be true, or I used to not believe, but it changed when the ocean parted itself for the firs time in my life time.


I remember the earth trembling under the might of, something, maybe the powers from below, as hellfire spewed from the bowels of earth and the clouds of ash and smoke surrounded the globe like a nuclear winter.


We thought it was the end of times, the apocalypse, hell on earth with the four horsemen and all.


a lot of people died.


And it was before we even saw the first demon.


That was when all hell broke loose.








Well, I fucked up, and I fucked up big, like, I doubt someone has fucked more bigger than I have done this day, I couldn’t finish my challenge to myself, I was falling to pieces yesterday, and I just needed to sleep, I had class in the morning, or atleast I thought I did, but no, in fact, I wasn’t even close to reaching the star as I was close to break my face on the pavement ground.


So, I don’t know, I was going to say some novels that I like, right? well, I guess I like Bankruptcy of the cannon fodder, it is this BL chinese novel where the character is this university student who transmigrates into the body of the cannon fodder villain who tried to get his grubby paws on the heroine, and failed, over and over again, until he went bankrupt


and so, cue the protagonist, that at the end of their novels, started his, and his rise from poverty through increasingly shameless schemes.


I don’t feel any will to write in this bones of mine, but I doubt it is because I lost the spark, I am just sullen, being a little bitch, because I wasn’t able to finish my task on time, sulking, I am sulking, that is what is happening to me, but, oh well, it is not like I have answers, for life, for things, for anything, I am sulking, and because I am sulking, I have to finish this project as sooner as I am able, because, seriously, I want so much watch the marvelous ms midge, it hurts, it hurts a lot, and now, remember all that I said, of not having enough steam to read the lies of locke lamora? now, I am really feeling like I can read  it, in fact, I can even finish it in less than two hour, who knows, I might be able to.


obviously not, I can read like, 100 pages in two hours, so it would take me 12 hours to finish that book, and now, I am really willing to try my hands at it, like, can you believe me? I am such a procrastinator, I am such a tired person, who is so very tired of being tired, I want something more of life, you know? I want diversity, I want nutrition, and I wonder, if I am really gaining anything from the words being spewed over here, like, I am pretty sure this here, it is not writing, it doesn’t resemble writing in the slightest, it is not even close to be something worth of consideration, no, it is not, but I don’t know what it is, what is going on, what I need to have done, what I need to have it ready, what should I aim for life to be easier, what I should look for life to stop being so slow, so tedious, so ingrained in sel loathing and despise, spite, and everything bad that something can be associated with.


and I am not even close to the end, like, I have 1.8k words to write to finish the task of yesterday, and 5k + one coherent story, that is starting the task for today, like, can you believe in this guy? he fucked it up so terribly, but oh well, it really is not constructive to cry over spilled milk, I am thinking of going to sleep after finishing writing this portion here, because, look, it is still early in the evening, and my head is still faintinly aching, like, not too bad, not too horrible, I don’t even know, something, something not, I care, I care not, it is like plucking the petals of a rose, but intead of a flower, I am usng neurons, getting dumber with each round of affirmation and self reproach, never putting that feet on the first step, and if I ever do it, it keeps tripping on the earlier steps of the stair and I keep tripping down onto the ground, ir really isn’t that good of an ending for me.


But… maybe, just maybe, my lack of energy, might be because I didn’t have not even a single drop of coffee yet? might be.it


I wonder if it was it, because, I kinda of have a spring on my step? like, ohhhhhh, boy, now I starting to feel it in, it is happening, oh, the creative juices, I have none at the moment, but I feel the gears start moving, soon enough they will be start to be produced, and when that time comes, I will, do something about it


so, creepy small town, I really like atlantis 2, the sequel of the disney movie that it was just a bunch of episodes for a tv series that never saw the light of day, it would have been extremely successful if they put in the effort, like, they had great characters, like, really good ones, and all of them of color, in 2006 none the less, like, how could they let such a big project like that sink? for shame, for shame.


So, I remember the time, that I masturbated with my ass, it was like, yester-yesterday, my arm still hurts, from all the exertion.


I really want one of those dick with suction cups that you put in the wall, it would be quite the callistenics for me.


okay


I really should make something creative with my words


Something romantic, something well put together, it doesn’t need to be inventive, it doesn’t need to something very new, it just need to be something that doesn’t exist yet and will start to existing the moment you put to paper


I don’t like sabrina chilling adventures, it is not a good show, I don’t like the characters, I hate how flanderized the satanic religion is, like, for fuck sake, why they decided to make satan fucking sexist, he is not the only fucking demon in hell, like, baphomet is just as hated by the christian, and that creature has a pair of tities, like, Why? is that anti satan propaganda? like, it is just shitty magic, like, what is up with teenage series having so horrible magic system, not only magic system that are shitty, the whole thing is secured together with threads of teenage sexualization and every shit across the board.


Like, I don’t like the chilling adventure of sabrina, and you know what, I might be barking at the wrong tree here, it is possible, like, I wanted.. Chilling, I wanted the occult kind of magic, visceral, ritual, rhites and chanting, I wanted… satanic demons, I wanted biblical demons, why the fuck are putting krampus? the slavic evil santa? and like, what is up with hecate being more powerful than santa, it isn’t the power of a god the amount of veneration they receive or the fear that they have? maybe it doesn’t work like that in their universe, and I am just hating iron for not becoming steel.

and like, I have no authority to say anything about the feminist themes of the series, but they feel too patronizing for me.


like, as long as a girl wants, she can have it, sabrina is the most powerful witch, sabrina is the most wise witch, sabrina always get her way, even when she screw up she gets no consequence for her action. she is like a goth Tori vega, I just don’t like it.


But, well, it isn’t like it is all trash, I am being too hard on it.


like, the episode where harvey’s brother/father (don’t remember).ends up dying, and Sabrina convinces a group of witches to help her in a ritual to bring back him, but it needs a sacrifice.


But in her house, it has this graveyard that the soil can bring a witch back to life, so, they kill one of the random witches from the clique and bring back her back.


but oh well, you know how bringing the dead goes in this kind of scenarios, so, you have this warped husk of his father/brother, acting all wrong, because he should have been dead


While also, things are going wrong with the witch that is brought back, sure, she is more whole than the father thanks to satan magic, but the ritual demanded a life, and they could not cheat it with the grave yard, so the witch becomes very sick, she starts puking soil and gravel, she is dying, and


I wish I cared for that witch, seriously, it would have so more weight if it was sabrina who sacrificed herself to bring harvey’s father back, instead, it is everyone paying the price but her, the inconsequetial witch is dying, well, fuck her, not even her own clique cares for her, why would anyone else?


and harvey, poor harvey, sabrina says that she loves him, but just think about the mental scarring for making him shoot his own dad/brother, she made it happen, she is a fucking monster, and it would be so much more impactfull with it was sabrina the sacrifice, sabrina paying the price for her irresponsabilities and trying to cheat anceint powers, sabrina would have to be horrified to see what she made her boyfriend do, instead of let him grieve, she scarred him, and the relationship could never be the same


maybe it happened like that, I don’t know, the last part with her losing harvey, really, I just don’t care about any of her shitty friends, besides the black girl, whos only trait is being nerdy and foreshadowing, like, when you think it is going to have weight, drama, of her losing her vision fro the ability of seeing the future, oops, all erased, who said power comes with a price? have they never watched power rangers?


Ikay, I will try to power write the rest of this here because I trully, don’t want to get stuck with having to write 10l words tomorrow, like, could you even imagine, 10k???? I did it once, it was hell, I hated every second, I wish I hadn’t lost that document, I think it would be quite revealing to know how my mind operated in those circumstance, I wished I had more will, to go out and do phisical activities, maybe I would be happier,


I remember I was quite please with the results when I was still going to the gym, but now, I feel stuck in this degrading body, I want to be thinner, I want to be smarter, and I want to be more creative, shouild I put in the board? like, all those objectives?

Like, getting thin I would put food intake challenges for myself, getting smart, I would put to make the activities from school on the day they were issued. or something. and creative, well, this here was supposed to be an excercise in creativity.


wELL, SINCE i AM ALMOST AT THE END, WITH LIKE, 4 hundred words left, I guess I will be writing like this is the end, I am going to tell you, I have a lot of things in my mind, but I guess what I want to say is, boy, the 5th day of april was not productive, like, at all, like, not even a little, in the slightest, it was far from great and I am pretty sure that I am going to cry wihen the month ends, like, man the4th was a shitshow, but all that raw emotion gave way to a 500 hundred piece of literature, what it isn’t much, but dang, that was growth, that was growth, and I want to grow, and I don’t feel I am growing right now, with the padded story that carries so little with itself that might as well be dragging bags of air, like ruffles or something, but alas


The storm brewing, the winds raging, waves crash against the coast and a lonely figure, sits at the top of a light house, watching, waiting,his beloved should be coming today, but the danger, the horrible danger, can you even fathom? I don’t think I can, I cannot, I will not

I stopped caring midway


maybe that is one of my many problems, I stop caring too fast, I can barely bring myself to bail money, I see, I couldn’t even finish that thought without another thing interrupting those thoughts of mine. I really hate Mrs Maisel second season resort arc, fucking hate it, it feels like a beach episode, a 5 hours beach episode


I really thought we would be doing something interesting with Benjamin, I really thought he was gay, and it had this sexual tension going on between him and Joel during the fireworks, I really hoped for something interesting to come out of it, but instead, sexuality is used like a joke, on that shitty shitty arc, hate it, burn it, I wish it didn’t had to exist, it is a stain on the flawless masterpiece, or should be flawless, if not for that shitty, shitty resort, I am almost on the end here, so, expect nothing, wait for nothing, I have no real agency of action, I am just waiting for the lighting to strike once more, like it did with the Office job, now, I want to write something more, something more special, more memorable, more impactful


I guess I will try do it today…. <3