#dear diary
Tumblr posts tagged #dear diary from across Tumblr — no login required.
As if the bullying at school, my friends being mean to me and my sh issues aren’t enough, my father decides to become present again just to make our lives a living hell. I feel like my 7yo self but instead of innocence I have a sharp utility knife. I genuinely can’t go on like this, I never felt more prepared to die than now. And knowing I’m very sober now makes me afraid of what I will be capable to do once I’m not so very conscious.
I sincerely need to learn to speak the fuck up. Results of minimal makeup are that I pass for the most part, and then still getting misgendered on occassion. I think I'mma focus more on skincare for a while since my facial hair is not really the issue anymore with routine shaving. I think not speaking up hurts my fem voice and think I sound better when I project. Broski inspires me to lock the fuck in more, and watching him operate is something else to behold.
Day 44 - I’m so tired Got like 4 hours of sleep BUT great news one of my last four presentations is over!!! the last three are all tomorrow and I wanna cry but that’s okay I’m partly done! Also my course schedule for next year is so fucked up I won’t be able to get ahead in the stuff I want to be ahead in meaning my schedule the year after will be PACKED I was supposed to take all my difficult courses next year and be smooth sailing the one after Now I’m just gonna have two difficult years In other news I am now discovering the wonders of matcha because I hate coffee but I needed caffeine to help me cope today(I don’t usually) and because a vlogger my parents watch bought matcha we have a tin of it and I quite like it Sweetened of course but even so it’s a nicer flavour than coffee though maybe that’s just the tea lover in me speaking Anyways I have a few assignments I need to do tonight but after that it should be smooth sailing until the end of the school year!
i always feel so bad not liking someone’s creation, such as a song or movie. they spend their time to make something they thought everyone would love and i treasure that dearly. i think everyone’s art is beautiful especially if they created it themselves. i haven’t found myself to dislike any songs or movies recently due to this. but when i do, i immediately get a reminder that they created something using their creativity. it sparks a thought that tells me even if i don’t like it, it’s still a beautiful work of art.
saudade estou sempre sentindo saudade de tudo. da rua que vejo da janela, do cheiro do almoço da minha avó, do sorriso que arranquei de alguém num dia difícil. sinto saudade do que foi. mas também sinto do que ainda virá. talvez porque eu pense demais em como era, e em como será. às vezes imagino que, em algum lugar do mundo, alguém já tenha morrido de saudade. mas então penso: e se eu for a primeira? a primeira a morrer de saudade de algo que já passou ou que nem sequer chegou. (preciso aprender a escrever poemas… sinto que nada que eu escrever será suficiente para me fazer acreditar que posso ser boa um dia, af!)
6/16/2026 I cannot keep going on like this. I have been painfully lonely as far back as I can recall. I try to connect with people and all I get back is dependency and disgust. The people I have called my friends have always used me; the people who have claimed to love me have done the same. If I am not perfect I am useless. If I am not giving, caring, fixing then I am mean, hostile, and angry. This cannot be true. I love with more passion than any single person I have ever come in contact with. I want so painfully to be understood that I would throw myself off of a bridge if it meant understanding the stranger next to me and maybe getting that understanding back. Alas, I have fallen from many a bridge and all I receive is the smack of the concrete water. This, I am told, is the price of “caring too much”. Caring too much about others, about their perceptions of me, about the world, about humanity or the lack thereof…It’s gotten me nowhere except the bottom of the ocean. And the bottom of the ocean is cold. So cold it burns my skin all over all of the time. I do not receive moments of peace. No. I receive moments where the pressure of the water drowning me becomes so high that the cold starts to feel like warmth as my bones begin to crush from the inside. What is the purpose of this dance I do? Letting people in in hopes that they’ll try to know the girl in the ocean when in reality all that happens is I start drowning in their ocean too. Their currents mix with mine and I can’t find which way is up while they’re floating on the surface. They’re only floating because of the bubbles coming out from my screams. I give them all of the love and care I wish to be given. I’ve even mastered the art of apology. Of meaning the sorrows that leave my lips. Barely anyone is even willing to give that back. Or how about the “benefit of the doubt”? Something I have never earned, but awarded to every living thing I’ve met. When is it my turn? There is no god and everything is as above so below. This is an undefeated truth that cannot be proven otherwise. Then, why am I not granted what I’ve given? Am I so egotistical that I have it all wrong? Do I not truly understand the empathy that I feel dragging me down?
About the #dear diary tag
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