HK Blog

Wave of depression overtook my mood while I was stacking chairs in the gym at work. Ace said he'll get me some fries from the Coney, he's a cool dude. I got cold feet again. I didn't talk to her. Inferiority started to overtake my initial upswing. I thought that maybe I would be wasting her time. She does really impressive stuff, higher profile work. She's a titan, and I just don't think I have any business trying to subtly ask out somebody who lives in another state, even if it's drivable. I'd just be wasting her time, that's what the prions are telling me right now. It's not because I don't think I'm interesting, no, it's not that. It's that I'm kind of poor and live with my parents, even though my sis and I are supposed to move out in November. I make $32k, and I'm below budget right now, rationing until payday on Friday. I'm not in a place financially or in my residence where I have any business trying to strike up any...

I have a tendency to be overly saccharine in my entries, a little too wrapped up in my own emotions. But I decided I'm not gonna stop doing that. I love it. I need to update you guys. I am still single, me and Birria Girl aren't a thing. We decided it'd be better to just stick together as friends and not make things complicated. I already mentioned this in an earlier post, I just wanted to clarify. Because I'm a twisted little bitch and I'm indulging too much in my crushes. The sickness is back, Adrielle fans. This time about a mutual, on Instagram... how embarrassing. Not very mature or realistic of me to think like that at all, but fuck, I'm exhausted of being so austere and responsible irl. Had a lot of boundaries that were pushed really hard in the last week and a half and honestly I'm open to anything, literally anything, absolutely anything. If she doesn't like me, that's fine, its whatever. I noticed she stopped liking my posts and stuff when ...

We're just friends. I think it is much better to be friends. We've talked a little, and I can see clearly now. It wouldn't work out, with her. I can't be with someone who doesn't understand my identity. I'm not an enigma, I'm a tin of oysters. I can be friends with someone who doesn't understand everything about me, but I will not give my heart to that disparity. And to understand isn't enough, either. Respect is in order. She's a good friend, and that is all. The impermanence starts to get to me, though. I have a thousand people on my mind, every day. I want so dearly to remember their faces, to never forget. I try to focus on the professional relationships, the familial relationships, platonic relationships. I've got to. You know how painful it is to want somebody, somebody so far outside tommorow. Somebody where I convince myself, I could never. I could never.

Today we're having a fun event for the kids, Zombies on Ice. I got my makeup on for it, I look silly. That's good, I guess. Yesterday I talked to Birria Girl, y'know. She was upset that I didn't tell her that I liked her back until just now. She thought I was still caught up on that one guy... I'm over him. She makes a lot of jokes about not liking bisexual guys, and I kinda laughed along bc I didn't want to ruin the friendship, even though I already told her I was trans. Even my non friendly coworkers know I'm trans. Everyone knows, I'm out of the closet. So what gives, man? What gives? But she was saying she liked me, is the problem. I feel conflicted between knowing that I've gotta have some self respect in not dating someone who isn't willing to support that part of me, and knowing that I might be throwing away a good thing, counting her out on her ability to care and adjust. I just didn't think I'd be involved in anything like this s...

I can't help but feel that something just shifted. Like I rubbed someone the wrong way, somehow. I don't know who... I don't know why... I just know that the unease is back. I abridged my blog by deleting a lot of posts from the past few months. I'm gonna re-upload them at my own risk. All this unkempt and ruggedness, it's not fun. I want it to stop. I want something to be nice for once. I want to be a lovable sort for a day or two. I haven't had any adventures lately. Just chronicles of the day-to-day, the long hairs of father time's beard weaved into anecdotes and stories. And half the time, the stories don't make sense. I don't make sense. Maybe I should resign myself to that station. Maybe I shouldn't try to be pretty anymore. But I'll never stop, because the feeling is too strong... I wasn't ever raised to shut up. I feel no need to fight my nature, today. I won't post this one for a few days, and I'll probably confuse my fol...

Good afternoon. Some more sobered journaling today. Today is the first day of the film club. We're starting the program with something real easy to watch, that everybody will like: Superman. I've designed this program to sort of indoctrinate the youth into being cinephiles, even if I myself would never call myself one. In the mean time, before all of that, I'm watching Fire Walk With Me at work again. Unfortunately I have become one of those people that get really annoying about Lynch. I will try to be brief, with just two sentences: FWWM should be in the national film registry. Unfortunately though, we are currently living under a fascist dictatorship, where good things don't happen. There's nothing to be sad about today. Everything is so lovely. Except... I haven't heard back from Remas in a few days. I pray she is okay. The most uncertain factor of my life right now, without question. I believe it is worth it regardless. Every day I check three things on my p...

Don't ever ask me why I stopped putting creamer in my coffee, I could never give a satisfactory answer. It was like a switch went off one day; I changed up on 'em. What a goofy little thing to be, right? It's entertaining to be that fickle. I got down the concept of the real shaker of the album, it's called Chicken Choice Judy (RIP Infinity Train). There's been enough feats of strength, enough of being sad, right? Only three tracks in a row of tears, so I'm not a real artist, I guess. The formalism in me creeps back like a virus, you could never shake that churchly Blackness out of me. I envy those in my community that don't ever have to make that part of their mindset, their upbringing. It seems almost alien to me, y'know. It's funny given that Dad is the really theological one, but it was him who decided to skip the assembly. It was Mom who needed the ritual, the Westsider in her. In this sense I'm thinking it's real "formalist" o...