nobodynobodynobodynobodynobodyn
23.black.NB
21+ I have too many thoughts, nobody to share them with, except my selves.
9 posts
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Last Seen Blogs
neposkinny
blair
maxterian
Super Hell And Back Again
azuree1733
Azuree
thisispersonalpage
Sepia's Black
sunraabo
KaraboISSAnswer
Text
My school told me recruiters from companies would be calling me after they sent out the job placements out. And now they’re calling me. It’s overwhelming all these calls. I got like 5 today and I’m trying not to freak out and answer. I wish they’d text instead that would be so much easier. They all will probably put me on the back burner till I actually graduate so why I gotta talk?? Idk I don’t do well with cold calls. I don’t know these companies and they ask do I have any questions. NO! I don’t know the company. Explain it or something, send an email. I don’t even know what questions to ask.
0 notes
Text
About to meet someone for the first time. I’m losing my shit to be honest. But I’m gonna be okay. Nobody’s ever died from social anxiety I think. Embarrassment, sure, but not anxiety itself. I’m not gonna panic. I’m gonna be cool.
0 notes
Text
My thoughts alternate so quickly. I go from giddy about life, to unreasonably horny, to ashamed of myself, to mad at my self, back to shame, turn to guilt, spin to self love, it goes on. N on. I feel like I’m losing it sometimes. I want to hide. I want to run away. I’m an adult I can’t run away. I argue with myself. There’s voices in my head I talk to. Is that mental illness or social deprivation survival tactic? I’m confused with my own mind. Nothing I say is good. My writing is bland. I’m not going to say I’m not good. There’s no binary. I’m getting better. There’s too many voices going on arguing and deciding what I should say. It’s too much. I want to cry. I haven’t cried in forever. I always speak in i statements. I don’t know how to stop. I will learn how to stop. I don’t think I really understand English that well. I do think I have a low iq. I do want to get on disability. I have awful self esteem. I have low self confidence. I’m feeling sorry for myself. I’m purging my thoughts. I’m going to love myself. Is any of this effective? I’m thinking it’s probably not. I haven’t had an original thought since 2021. All of my thoughts aren’t my own. I think I’m a narcissist. I don’t think I’m in the spectrum. It would be easier to explain my self if I was. I’m scared of who I’ve become. I’m disgusted with myself. I’m uncomfortable 24/7. I’m not okay right now.
Press rewind
0 notes
Text
I walk alone at night. Strangely it’s when I’m most comfortable in the world. There’s not so much going on. Everyone’s inside sleeping. It’s gets so quiet I can hear the wind begin to blow. Windows are illuminated by backglows of television, of led lights. There’s always light. It’s never completely dark. That’s what I want. To be eclipsed into darkness where I lose feeling of my body. Where I’m unsure whether I’m still alive. A darkness I can’t run from when my fears crawl under my skin. Nothing can scare me there. The darkness will be if my own making. It’s mine. Nobody can take it from me. It’s my right to have the darkness, even as a treat.
0 notes
Text
I still believe that lurking above what the eye can see are 3 little martians arguing about the coordinates to come and abduct me back home. They’ve been going at it for 23 years now but they’ll finally hear me yelling and waving at the sky, signaling I’m right here. And we’ll all go home.
Till they find me. I’ll wait. Try a new cookie. Hope on a star. Maybe level build my own rocketship to take me out from this place. I’ll travel the highways of deep,cold space. Traveling for eons to my home planet. Hoping to run into another traveler and we’ll stop at a planet where it rains ice 24/7 and have a nice chat while ducking and dodging icicles. Maybe I won’t find anyone on that ship. I’ll be floating in space till I reach home. I don’t know the coordinates but I have hope. Hope will get me to my final destination
Here’s to hoping the martians come get me cause I don’t get rocket science. 🥂
0 notes
Text
Last year my bumble was jumpin. I had many matches. I was having so many conversations. I don’t feel like I was as worried as I am now. I was freer then. But I’ve met people that resulted in me having anxiety attacks cause I was so nervous. All that stress accumulated and I stopped trying to reach out. Those stressors weighed heavily on me until I made the decision to not let those past experiences rule me. So now I’m back on the app and I’m not getting as many messages and I’m starting to question my worth again. Like am I worthy of being a friend? Am I enough to be a friend? But I won’t give them much thought. Cause I have to push forward cause I know I want to develop connections with some cool as people. Cool ass, queer, black ppl. It would be perfect if they were neurodivergent tho. I’m being choosy with who I want. I’m not talking to just anybody. I want to attract people where we both could be ourselves around each other.
I also struggle with believing anyone could care about me. I’ve felt disposable for such a long time that I started to dispose of people before they could get to me. I stopped responding to this one person who taught me to skate. They seemed like a cool person. Neurodivergent like me. And I never responded to their message cause I was in a bad place back then and didn’t think anyone could actually care about me. I don’t have their number now so I can’t call.
I wanna hug. I wanna be loved. I wanna hold someone’s hand. I wanna be told I matter. I want a kiss. I wanna go in a date. I want to be told I’m beautiful. I want to be enough. I want to make some laugh.
I want people to like me. Am I a narcissist for wanting that?
There’s this thing called reciprocity that I don’t quite grasp. We do for each other type thing. We scratch each other’s backs kinda deal. Not for any gain, but because we care for each other and know we got spots we can’t reach.
0 notes
Text
I can’t even shit with the door open now that he’s moved in. Ngl it feels like my rights to shit comfortably are being taken away. I don’t like the light or the noise from the bathroom. So now I’m shitting in pitch black. It’s cool tho. I kinda conquer my fear of the dark when I do it. I’m the shitting conqurer. Facing my fears one upset stomach at a time.
I have to accept that finding friends that I like, that I truly vibe and feel comfortable around , is gonna take a long time. I’m probably not gonna find them on an app. Ideally the people I would probably be really good friends with are agoraphobics but i won’t find them outside. And I don’t believe knocking on everyone’s door asking if they want to be friends is a good idea. So I’m thinking about a book club. But all the book clubs in my area are filled with white people who either read books abt unbearably sad white women or all the variations of rich dad poor dad self help capitalist genre.
I think the only way to fully complete my new emergence of self is to move to a new city. I wanna move somewhere hot. Somewhere where there’s a lot of queer black ppl. Somewhere with a vibrant culture. I’m thinking North Carolina or Georgia or Texas or Colorado. I have to do more research.
I wonder why I want to move away so much. I’ve actually always wanted to move away. Virginia is an absolutely beautiful place. It’s the place I was raised up in. But I feel like I’ve seen it all. Even though I don’t get out much, I know the layout. The parks. All of it. I want somewhere new. Where I can establish my self. I’m not going to become a whole new person once I get there. I’m already beginning the process. I think I’ve outgrown this place. I’ve grown confortable here and I want a change. An uprooting of everything I know of how to be comfortable. I’ve had great memories here and poor ones too. But I need new air. A new place.
New place new titties too. I don’t really like having big boobs. I think they’re giving me body dysmorphia. I don’t like the weight of them. They make my back hurt. They sweat to much. They’re uncomfortable. Especially bras. I never liked bras. But now I got DD and I’m confined to the cotton n latex prisons for life. Solitary confinement of anything whether it be titties or people is an injustice. My boobs don’t feel like me. I feel like I need small boobs in order to move around comfortably. I even hated wearing bras in hs they were awful and always made me sweat. I def went braless most my high school career and didn’t really care. I want to wear shirts with out that uncomfortable feeling if skin to skin fabric to skin irritating the skin friction even more. I hate it.
The more I look back in my life the more I want to get tested for autism. I’m realizing I had a lot of sensory issues as a kid. I would always wear sunglasses in the house if was too bright. I could hear the sounds of light pass through my head. I always beat box or hum of tap my fingers on my chest in a drum pattern. I always used to have bad anxiety in school. Also with making friends.
A part of me wonders though about the bad things I’ve done. Cause I’ve only seen autistic people be described as kind, giving. There’s been times where I had to say no and it really hurt me to say no (this was when I was first establishing boundaries and my ability to say no. My friend asked me for twenty dollars and I thought about it and I thought how much he owed me and what happened last time I asked him to pay me back and I didn’t want to deal with potential conflict so I said no and I felt bad cause he’s in a bad place but, idk man I just had to say no) I also used to be really mean to my cousin when I was lil. I regret it now. I wish I could have clearly stated my boundaries. I didn’t like him being so close to me so my go to was to hit and scratch and I hate I did that. I regret it. I want to say sorry but I’m not on good terms with my family, I think.
I’m figuring out ways to reconnect with my family after not talking. I know I could just say hi. You know what,.. I think I will just say hi. Cause it’s been too long and I haven’t seen or heard from them. I think they think that I don’t like them, that isn’t true. For the longest time I didn’t know how to talk.
I hold my body really still instead of moving. I’ve been so afraid to move. Cause I think I saw my stinking behavior once and didn’t like it.
0 notes
Text
I like being alone but I don’t want to be lonely. I want someone to text. To talk to. Share my aspirations with and they share with me. I want that human exchange of understanding one another, supporting one another, experiencing with one another. I don’t always like to go out. Or even have a physical presence near me. And I think that’s where the trouble is in my relationships
I tend to not initiate contact cause I like my time by myself and I’m not thinking about them but I still do care for them, I genuinely do. But being with someone else I always feel obligated to talk and water myself down to a version that is more suitable to others. If I do that for too long I’ll start to get burnt out.
I spend too much time on the whys and not the how’s. Also this is a bad day cause I want to eat at the table with my mom and enjoy a nice dinner together but she has to work and make a living. I understand. I haven’t eaten with my mom in such a long time it’s crazy.
If there’s anything I learned from this journal entry. It’s that I have to start initiating. Not just socially but in other areas of my life. I have to get up more. Get up and clean, draw, paint, workout. I have to take charge of my life
It’s my life. My life. It’s mine. My body. The body is mine. It’s just fine. My body. This body of mine. Just fine. Like Mary j said. Just fine
0 notes
Text
To many thoughts be running in my head. Sometimes I wish I could’ve been the one.
I don’t want people to read anything I say but I want people to see me. I’m too scared to fully open myself, tumors and all, to someone else.
I know what I’m thinking. I know how to make me feel comfortable. I know what I want. Communicating outside of myself is where the trouble starts. I haven’t really spent lots of time empathizing with others. Talking to others. Listening. Most in part due to my severe untreated adhd.
I’ve been to a few therapists. But tbh I lie to them. I withhold so much information of myself cause I don’t know how to communicate my complex feelings to others. It’s a maze trying to find the right words to tell someone I’m im doing. The “oh I’m good” is standard, it’s nothing, but it’s my go to response.
I just remembered a memory and started hitting myself in the head. Im worried I might do it in public. I know that’s abnormal from regular social situations.
I saw a picture of my body today. I wanted to cry. Im not in a good space with my body. I see how big I’ve gotten how awkward I’ve gotten. I don’t like it. I want to be thin. Im going to be thinner. My biggest challenge right now is to not eat the cookies in the refrigerator my mom brought. Yeah it’s good. It tastes good but that’s not what I need. I need to eat less carbs. Less sugar. Workout more. Move more.
Not everything I say has to be funny. I think humor is a big part to getting people to keep socializing with me but I’m just not a funny person. I love to laugh but I’m not funny. Creating jokes are too stressful. Im not knowledgeable on metaphor, creativity, silliness. Im more of a quiet person.
I’ve actually been doing ok. Lately I’ve made it my daily goal to talk to myself nice. My negative inner voice rules me. I don’t want it to be that way.
I don’t really talk to my family cause they think I’m a bitch. True. But I’m that bitch. Jk. But Im not always aware of my selfishness. I realize that I have to say hey more. I just texted my uncle. My family really separated after my grandma died. Also I was pretty shit when I was younger, worse than I am now.
I’m going to exercise more. I’m going to eat healthier. I’m going to write more. I’m going to draw more.
0 notes