u/AngelSSSS

I tend to write, and I enjoy writing. It helps me organize myself mentally. It also helps others who may be going through a situation similar to mine find a lighthouse to guide their navigation.

And these past few months have been terrible. To me, it came as no surprise — I knew they would be. But not this definitive. And the truest thing about what becomes definitive is that the blow was not merely painful. We suffer every day. But when it is thunderous, it becomes a mental event forever carved into your identity.

Throughout this decade, I learned skills to survive, though not truly to live. Now that I have learned them — because you cannot run before you walk — I can learn to rise. By focusing. No one stops me anymore.

A change of name, moving across continents, and erasing every trace of anyone capable of contaminating me again is already settled. I would rather neutralize you than allow you to poison my next harvest. And with no one left capable of doing so — whether through disappearance or geographic and maritime distance... it smells like calm. And with that, my recovery.

It no longer seems impossible, despite constant discouragement. If you do not speak of it, no one can contaminate it. Except... one person. And that person constantly challenges me, and this is my new approach: give only what is necessary and do one thing at a time.

Not only to recover, but because when you do things with concentration, they turn out exceptionally well. If we divide our focus, even only in two, the result becomes average or mediocre. I am not forced to let my life and work turn out poorly for anyone.

But... I will not say that out loud. Not even in my own mind. Speaking softly is elegant. Those who shout are either desperate or hollow.

Yet one question remains, born from a dynamic I not only live and study, but also contemplate:

What if that person needs more than what an average person can give?

From there, more questions emerge, and by answering them, the bridge slowly completes itself.

I cut my losses in order to prioritize.

Is that person worth it?

By meritocracy, no. They are not. But they hold more value than anyone else. I identify with that person, but there is something more: “we will see each other again when we return home.” The wellbeing of your own, if you are capable of providing it, is not something you deny.

And here comes a realization many people would prefer to frame as a definitive stance, like in every dramatic speech. I do not. Not anymore. I want to change where I can. Because I know there are things I will never be able to change. That is my personal luxury.

There is a vast unknown classification in an old continent. An unfinished region on the map. You cannot categorize what lacks certainty — even less when it changes so much. But once you adapt to it, naturally, you begin to understand what must be done. And if I am well, then naturally, I hope my own will be as well.

I only hope to learn to read timing more accurately. And to possess the greatest resilience, like that hidden wall within the sea.

These past months have been very, very harsh. I’ve given too much of myself to others, hoping they would get better, and they didn’t. It was never like that. My focus is truly terrible. And because of that, I’ve also attracted such terrible luck that I consider myself cursed. Everything has gone so wrong that it’s time for me to reconsider things, once again.

Since I no longer wish to force myself any further, I only take my basic medication. I want to avoid any other kind of drug. Because of that, it has been very hard for me to be forced to share things with you.

At this point, I don’t even know if physical death means anything to me anymore. I think I’m already living as someone dead inside, and in order to process this, I have to live through it. After all, this is no longer about something earthly.

Today I started hearing your voice again during my breakdowns… But since you don’t answer me, and the screaming only transfers into my own head as well… well, I don’t have the tools anymore, and I don’t want to keep using the same old coping mechanisms just to survive in a world I don’t even like.

That’s why, well… I think you already noticed, but I have this tendency to protect others while failing to protect myself, and because of that, I no longer wish to be an active internet user.

I no longer feel like leaving comments on YouTube, writing on Reddit or my blogs, uploading videos. I don’t like people anymore. Not after realizing how much I help, yet when I ask for what I deserve, there’s nothing there for me.

Maybe what affected me the most was your plan. No… it still affects me. But I don’t care that much anymore. When you’re suffocating, very little matters.

I feel like I’m going insane. And it’s strange for me to say that. But that’s how I feel. And since I know this won’t stop, and every time I try to put you in emotional intensive care, it all goes wrong…

Maybe it’s also because the rough, non-therapeutic way I handle things is all I have. Because out of 100 years, I’ve already lived 30. Time flies. So I’d rather not interfere anymore.

I can’t keep expecting long conversations with you, conversations that you start yourself, only for you to stop replying or block me afterward.

I can’t keep expecting to clarify things with you somewhere on the internet only for you to block me. And of course, my biggest fear is looking for you in person, only to be rejected. When I don’t do it for myself, I do it for you.

But doing that for you, because it’s secretly what you expect, while also knowing what you would destroy… it’s only fair to understand that you, too, can do positive things for yourself. Because if all you do are negative things, then only negative things will exist around you.

And the most painful thing — though maybe it doesn’t hurt me as much anymore — is understanding your mindset. Either I die, or the people in your life die. I’ve always been the one who sacrifices herself because I don’t feel like I belong to the cycle. But this is different.

Maybe because of what I told you happened last time. Understanding that it will happen again. Maybe I’m wrong — maybe I just connected the pieces, who knows if it’s true or not, only you do. But if it is true… it will happen again.

This is where my stomach starts twisting a little. You know what will happen to all your bonds. Or at least, I know. And yes… you became a mother… for that… And no, I won’t be the one choosing for you something you already decided before being born.

I was terrified of telling you this, thinking it would somehow become my plan, only to later realize that not only did nobody force you, but everything pointed toward something bigger. Considering that this isn’t even my kind of magic to begin with… And knowing that even if you did it, just like with everyone else… you would still have a safe place to return to.

But… is it safe to keep me in a catatonic state? Is it safe to strangle me the way you do for others? You’re very sadistic… and I’ve always known it. Always.

Now, when I met you, before I met you, always. And yes, I accept you that way. I always said it: I’m the only one who knows everything about you. And still accepts you. Even your edges.

But that’s neither a reason for pride nor humiliation, they’re simply facts. They haven’t changed in decades, and they won’t change. But I also have to be aware that you haven’t changed with me in two decades either.

You were kind very few times and cruel many more. Isn’t it strange that I don’t hate you? 😂 I actually find it funny. But that’s also an indication of something that, beyond all vectors, has already lasted almost two decades. If you ever change, it won’t be because of me. It will be because of yourself.

Most of the changes we make are rarely for other people. I say “rarely” because sometimes people do change for others. But it’s the minority. And in this case, this change should not be driven by me.

I am nobody. I come from a culture that the West sees as terrible, especially to someone who grew up in a family as uncultured and severe as yours. I must look even worse because of the decisions I make.

I suppose this is goodbye. I’ll disappear from your domain, which is the internet. And soon enough, I’ll leave the continent as well. So… tell me how things went when we return home.

Meanwhile… it’s ugly, because I feel empty inside. Because if something changes in our favor… we carry so much weight on our backs that I can’t feel innocent.

We came here for something intense. So we were prepared in a very singular way for it. Not only us, but also — if I ever get there — the girls I’ll adopt someday.

Well… that was it. So I won’t answer strangers anymore. I won’t open anything either. I’ll isolate myself, in order to see whether I survive. I don't want the tragedy to keep ruling my story. 😅

Goodbye.

Today I didn’t get enough sleep and couldn’t fall back asleep. My cortisol shot way up, and… well. I had to stay awake despite trying to sleep.

I guess it was one of those days when my uncles send me messages. I saw a lot of things, and my uncle told me something like… well, when you don’t sleep much, everything kind of tastes the same.

He said something like, “it’s about time you two see each other,” and I was like, “ugh?” In moments like this, I always tell myself that I’m the only one who doesn’t understand any of this.

I think picking up the phone and saying, “Hi. It’s me.” isn’t that hard. But I’m not in a mental war.

And since I’m not the one making the decision—because he’s more anxious and elusive—in my head I think: how is that even supposed to happen? So I just put it in a drawer. When you have no energy, you don’t think much.

The day went on. I said that since I couldn’t work, well… I’d do something else. Like sleep… and nothing. 😅

But I do feel like the day is strange. As if pieces of a puzzle were floating.

Meanwhile, my chest hurts because a committee of cats woke me up. Even though they could’ve just asked for food nearby, and I hadn’t slept much.

When I’m tired and barely sleep, my chest hurts. It reminds me of when I was in university. I used to pull energy from… I don’t even know where… maybe from nowhere… because I loved going to classes so much.

As an adult, without any responsible doctor telling me back then, I realized my body was running at a loss. But I didn’t notice.

It was supposed to be the first time I’d spend five years being who I wanted to be. I only felt that pain in my chest…

It wasn’t five, it was three. And I don’t know if that really matters. I’m writing this on just four hours of sleep after a long day yesterday. A day I actually liked.

Although my uncle almost gave me a heart attack when I got home. I exaggerate. A lot. Unlike my aunt or my moms, my uncle is actually quite gentle with me.

And since I couldn’t really do much, I just half-scrolled on my phone and stared at the sheets while eating dulce de leche pancake cake with orange…

(I think I should buy food today, I don’t know, I’m really tired).

I started reading Reddit, finding more or less the same emotional posts where I think I’d get rich as a psychologist going: “Get up and do something, damn it! You’re not going to fix what hurts you like that!”

Or better said: “You’ll never feel worthy of that happiness if you don’t do something for yourself! If you want dulce de leche pancake cake with orange, go find a way to make it or buy it!”

It’s funny, I just thought of it. Orange, half orange, orange, half orange… get the joke? 😆 (This won’t be my most illustrious post, not even close, I think).

But something happened among all the signals I got today that left me stunned… After Reddit, and thinking about how to organize my month into an actionable plan. With so many things I have to pay for.

And I looked at the time. It was 16:16… Immediately, the song I use to express this started playing in my head.

Usually when a song comes to me, I say: “Great, I’ve got clues!” Well, this one has no lyrics, and its title confuses me.

As if the beyond, the liminal… came to trespass… from a tundra or a desert with white sand. No, not a place with snow.

A fully liminal image. A frozen desert, but instead of beige or brown… the sand is gray, almost white.

And from that, many images and strategic questions unfold.

It’s definitely an image that blends desert and tundra. An image that isn’t possible on Earth. An alien image without being science fiction.

Where beings that are superior, that don’t operate under social norms, come to trespass—but in a beautiful way.

They don’t explain why. It seems they do it out of love for true art. And when I say that, I’m not joking. I mean that real spark that takes performances to the highest level. The kind that leaves the audience marked forever.

The semiotics of the song don’t resemble anything else, without contaminating my own image. There’s no urgency, no reason, no agency…

And yet, with this piece in that tundra-desert, beings not from this planet begin to trespass… not like it’s theater. They turn theater into reality.

But maybe that’s the trick. The song isn’t called delinquency—it’s more like a derivation…

As if delinquency had been turned into a fragrance by the most expert perfumer, known and unknown.

…For those who don’t really have time running. They got trapped in time. Maybe that last part is unnecessary… or maybe not. After all, it’s just a shapeless mental image…

Delinquency had never been so beautiful…

La Comarca

866/4727

This text was created with Delinquesce, by The Flashbulb

There are many things going through my head these days. I feel like I’m surfing through a storm I don’t understand. There is no storm, no sea, no waves. It’s just me and things I’m afraid to name out loud.

Also… fragments of recovery. I’m a toxic optimist. Thinking that after so much damage, with so many internal codes and a culture that Latin America rejects—and so on—I would recover in a few weeks. I’m still in that process.

Because of that, it’s hard for me to make decisions, so I push myself every day with the best things I can give myself. I eat well, I let myself sleep, I make myself go out even when I don’t want to. I force myself to work and also to rest. Waiting for my mind to process it, to understand it. To realize: this is safe, this is good for me. I don’t need to be so afraid. Just the necessary amount.

After all, this fear didn’t come from nowhere. It was the confirmation of the worst-case scenarios becoming real. I know what people are capable of—and why they do it. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. Most people don’t act out of malice. They act because they don’t see another way. And that’s a harsh truth. It keeps us from seeing how to actually solve a problem.

With that in mind, I’ve started trying little things I used to do before. Like going back to Reddit. I used to love it, then I started to hate it. Now… it’s a tool. It can still be used. I’m alone. So talking, connecting with people, makes me feel good. I also read stories. It helps me not feel isolated. Or better said, it helps me put myself in other people’s shoes.

Not in the classic empathetic way. But because I don’t understand them… my story is nothing like theirs. And I’m not going to force it anymore for others. That has only hurt me.

Today I wrote something in a new sub and thought, “maybe I should’ve posted this somewhere else.” But I don’t push myself with that anymore. Reddit has so many absurd rules that I don’t feel like trying too hard.

I realized people are… unhinged. Not “they are crazy”—no. They’re walking around unhinged. It’s a social symptom of disconnection.

Three people wrote to me. Actually four. One never replied back. Another wanted information just to tell me I was wrong. Another called me gay in a weird internal context. And the last one… The last one needed help I couldn’t give. And I still respond… why? It’s definitely a chaotic forum.

I respond because I try to heal the feelings of someone in particular. I respond because that’s the value of the internet—communication. I grew up with the internet. I am who I am because of it. But… things are changing again. My neural network is telling me that. And I’m giving it every possible tool to rebuild that lost connection.

After responding to those people… what used to be anxiety, confusion, frustration… slowly dissolved into something else: helplessness, melancholy and… peace. While I was out buying eggs and sweet popcorn, I felt a shift. I started humming Be My Mistake by The 1975. And there’s a kind of tenderness there that even I don’t fully understand.

Alexithymia is the difficulty of understanding your own emotions. Something strange happens to me. I don’t experience emotions in the same range as others. When people read my texts, their emotional interpretations feel… limited to me. And over time I’ve realized that other people’s emotions feel flatter.

After all, for many people, what is horrible, tragic, uncomfortable… I perceive almost the opposite. Otherwise, how could I feel helplessness, melancholy and peace at the same time? And from that, a sense of happiness started to grow—one that led to a lovely dinner with my roommate.

But between those moments… these days I’ve gone back to YouTube. For decades, my favorite website. Where I learned to dream, to see beyond, to truly learn about life—technical things, professional things, social things… everything.

Only to realize it’s no longer my home. Thumbnails are no longer original. They’re overloaded formats designed to grab attention. Content is curated to retain attention—not to educate or create.

Creators feel cornered by Google, trapped in systems that feel almost sadistic, where they no longer enjoy the process. And us, the users… our algorithm isn’t even used to push growth anymore. No. Low-effort ads, many of them scams. We’re bombarded with links to buy things, events, places—when we just wanted to watch a video. And of course, videos saturated with empty emotional headlines designed to trigger dopamine.

“What … tried to warn us about”

“The hidden truth of…”

“The scandal behind…”

“We were deceived…”

“The evil of narcissists”

“The dark side of…”

“Interview with a sociopath”

Clickbait stopped being a selling technique and became a reason to stop engaging altogether. Of course, after the Epstein case, everyone feels horrified. But just like Alok Kanojia said on his channel: this is also our fault. Just like there’s a chain of favors, there’s a chain of fear, ignorance, and… disinterest. “That’s not my problem.” Until it becomes yours.

There are beautiful things coming out of all this for me. I’m finding the desire again to slow down. To watch series, movies, read books.

To step out of that cycle where everyone is desperately demanding attention. After all… who wants the attention of a harpy?

Do you want to be told horrible truths that will break you, that you won’t use, that will make you treat me badly for trying to help you—and then I become the one who “tried to warn you”? Oh no. 😂

I have a YouTube channel. But I’m not trying to monetize it. I don’t need to curate content for weeks or exaggerate my image for things people… honestly, people like suffering. 😅

And well… I do connect with people. Not as much as before. I don’t plan to become a hermit. That’s why I’m still searching for a way to coexist in a world that clearly feels like it’s going through an apocalypse. But just because the world is falling apart doesn’t mean our individual time stops moving. And it’s worth thinking about designing a space where we can grow comfortably.

After all, Chernobyl now has incredible biodiversity after the disaster. Many species thrive decades after the catastrophe. Same with the DMZ between North and South Korea.

The world will keep spinning. Societies might not. But knowing that, it’s my decision to choose how I want to move within that reality. And with that… I’ll leave open questions for others to answer for me. Maybe to help me—without me exhausting myself like I used to.

When I went out to buy groceries, I felt that peaceful transition again. And my brain made me start humming that song, as if it carried answers along with calm. When I listen to music my mind chooses on its own, I find synchronicities. I find answers.

But just like the dinner I shared with my roommate, I want to share this possibility of finding answers together. ☺️

La Comarca

1209/6981

This text was written while listening to Be My Mistake by The 1975

Today I lack of everything and still I keep going. That that a nice thing for other to take my energy and playing by their own game... And it doesn't matter to me.

I reach a point of exhausting you cannot ask something without paying for advance if you want real changes. In my case I hide secrets in order to protect me and other... Not anymore.

And today came a person with the same behavior pattern as always. Applying false sympathy, to later on becoming a vampire.

I say the true I was hiding to protect him. Knowing it won't change my situation and I a predicted, he panicked. Now, for sure knows why makes senses his erratic behavior, anger, sadness.

And like he told me before, he understands me. He knows I'm the same looking inside of him. He knows he might be in danger around me, with my decisions and the path I choose.

Blood of my blood, soul of my soul. The different matter here is the simple fact I don't hurt my own people. His secret is about the storm is his mind is sacred. So the details of how he have to finish what he left undone.

And... To me. To be relax to say my truth and not have the change of others. I'm barely capable to stand by my own and... If you ask me something, I won't be soft. I will go to the option: responde without hesitation and keep going.

That's why the conversation didn't last long. I'm worry about my twin, for sure. But I know now, he is more capable than me. And he if someone capable of support me, is him. And the same for me. I will be the only is capable to support him.

And now I laugh at loud. He always put me in that position: the charming prince have to rescue the princess. And IT'S ACTUALLY HIS JOB. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Karma is a Bitch and Jojo Siwa is hilarious. But know I now, without he telling me directly: treat as a man.... And yes. I will. ☺️