Brain Dump (sorta).

It’s thin. 

I flounder between the past and the present. I find myself often nostalgic, wishing for things to be the way they were. I daydream, and brainstorm ways to drag objects from the past across the threshold. I long for the way I use to feel, to hear the things I used to, to see the things I used to. I often recall the moments in which I didn’t feel so ashamed of being broken. I used to feel reveled, sought. My brokenness was intriguing; a marvel. 

My pain felt poetic.

I feel like I’m unraveling. The threads that make up my life are slipping loose, faster than I can catch them. I keep reaching for something steady, or something I can hold on to, but all I find is thread. Soft, yielding, pliable yarn that slides through my hands as if it was never meant to hold shape. As if its purpose is to remain unwoven, unchanged.

I remind myself this isn’t truth, or fact, only feeling. Yet the feeling continues and convinces me otherwise. I’m struggling to reshape, to hold steady in a form that no longer feels like mine.

That man is so much stronger than me. I admire, and vehemently despise Him for that. I would have been caved. I tried to cave, but He stands so strong. Where His foundation is concrete, or steel, I balance on stilts. 

His steadfast nature reminds me of everything that I lack, or am not good at. His unwavering commitment to Himself reminds me of my wandering spirit. For all intents and purposes, we are polarizing opposites: His wisdom, to my stupidity. His courage, to my cowardice. His honesty, to my deception. His cleanliness, to my filth. 

I owe Him peace. I owe Him silence. And He will have it. 

Do villains know they’re villains? I do not mean in a “everyone is against me, so what I’m doing must be wrong,” type of way. I mean, do villains know that they are not good? Do they feel justified? Do they truly feel as if everyone around them is “crazy” for not understanding? Do they see others as illogical? Do villains believe themselves to be sane?

I have been convinced that I am an “unreliable narrator” in my own story. Because of this, I have a hard time distinguishing between what actually occurred, and how I processed/interpreted what occurred. I will go as far as to say that I don’t trust my own memory. I’ve been told that the way I share is unnatural, and I don’t know what to do with that. I rely on those around me to tell me what happened.

“Tell me how I hurt you?”

“Why am I sorry?”

“Tell me how to make it better.”

A villain wouldn’t ask these things, right? Even as I ask, it feels disingenuous and dishonest. I don’t know what I am. 

My mother has no clue that she saved my life this morning.

Upon waking up, I knew that today would be hard. I could feel it. It is an exhaustion that is soul deep. Despite feeling that way, I got up anyway.

I made it out of the house, and got on the road to work. I was behind a car that I felt was driving too slow. It could not have been more than a second before I felt myself become so irritated that I switched lanes. I made the switch, and immediately caught a red light (that I would not have caught if the car in front me was driving faster).

I screamed so loud. Genuine anger, frustration escaped my mouth faster than I could even think about. I put both hands on the wheel and shook it as hard as I could. I could feel my car rocking. I cannot tell you how long I did this for.

The light turned green, and I drove off. I kept hearing something tell me to crash my car. They were not whispers. It was not subtle. 

CRASH YOUR CAR. DO IT. IT WON'T HURT. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. CRASH YOUR CAR. 

I called my mother. "Good morning, how's your morning going so far?" I stayed on the phone with her until I got to work. I think I knew I wouldn't do it if she was on the phone. I think I knew that I couldn't do it if she was on the phone.

I can't remember what we spoke about, even with this occurring almost  30 minutes ago. I just remember that she saved my life. And she has no idea. 

How do you cope with a change that breaks not only your heart, but your spirit? How do you process losing love?

As my Father raised me, He taught me the importance of reflection. That is now one of my core principles: knowing where I've been, to determine where I'm headed.

Yesterday, I had the chance to visit my family in my hometown. I took the road trip alone, which granted me silence on the way there, and on the way home. As I passed various places, I remembered people, places, and situations that began to mold me, and break me. 

I miss how broken I was, I think? I still am, just less so. In that, there was so much passion. There was raw emotion. There was aggression. Things were rough, intense. I was often left bloody, and bruised, by the time things were over. Tears were tattooed on my skin. Welts were never not visible. Things were turbulent. Chaotic. 

I am proud of the progress I've made since then. I believe that I have settled down, established a routine that works for me and Mine. There is comfort in my stability. And, it no longer hurts to breathe.

But..

-✨

Good morning, and happy September.

I don’t know why, but I have found myself back here. Actually, I think I have been debating it for a few days now, but only now did I make the conscience decision to log in.

There’s been a challenge on my side of TikTok called “The Great Lock-In.” Basically, from September 1st through December 31st, you get your life together. You dedicate that time to work on your goals. The ultimate goal is to succeed, of course, but you don’t have to succeed entirely in that time frame. You just have to work on whatever goals you have (fitness/health, finance, relationships, etc.).

I don’t know if you can tell, but I am feeling inspired. Inspired, but I don’t know. Conflicted? Confused?

I think a part of it is, in thinking about all the goals that I have ever set for myself, I also think about kink, and who I am in this space. I think that for the last few days, I have put myself under a microscope. All parts of me. The parts that I debut for the world, and the parts that keep me company at night.

I’ve been struggling a little.

I think I’m back here, because unironically, this is where I feel safe. I don’t know.

Anyway, I guess that is it for now. This is not a welcome back for myself. I think this more of a.. release. I am broadcasting and/or releasing my thoughts because it is too crowded over here. Too noisy. Maybe now, I’ll be able to focus.

We’ll see.

-✨

“Be Smart, Not Strong” is a principle I often share with others. At its core, it means not testing or tempting yourself unnecessarily. You do not need to expose yourself to things that cause pain, humiliation, suffering, or harm. Choosing to avoid certain people, situations, or interactions does not make you weak or incapable—it simply means you’re prioritizing your well-being. You do not have to prove to yourself or anyone else that you can endure those things.

I was not smart. In this short time, not much has changed, progressed, or healed. But for a brief moment, I was building something. Breathing wasn’t painful. When I realized I hadn’t been smart, I had to admit that I wasn’t strong either. Still, if I managed to make it through a few days before, I know I can do it again.