I've noticed, as I pay more attention to my thoughts, that I really do a lot more repression and dissociation than I thought. I can feel something, but if it becomes ideal for me to feel something else when I'm with someone, I'll begin to feel the preferable feeling. And I'll remember thinking otherwise, but that won't mean a thing until it becomes best for me to think otherwise.

I can't really describe it in a way that I will be satisfied with. I'm not sure if that's me being an artist, or if the rule of life is that nothing ever means as much as you want it to. That really sucks.

I think perspective on the unsolvable problem of death is a core component of personality. I have only seen a handful of theories about HPD and death perspective, or thanatocentrism, if you will.

Somewhere I read that hysterics have been noted as not understanding death, killing themselves because they know they will be the center of some people's worlds for a time.

The way the text actually said it, however, is that the hysteric thinks they can attend their own funeral. Ha ha ha.

I think it's less pleasure-seeking than that. It's security seeking. I don't think I've ever wanted to be a person. I want to be a static concept. Death is the only way to achieve this, except for fame. When a hysteric dies, they effectively become an immortal situation. The catch is that, as far as we know, the hysteric will not be able to reap this ultimate wage for the ultimate chore.

I think histrionics are human expressions of the white rabbit in Lewis Carroll's works. We compensate for self-doubt by rousing others into revealing the demons in their closet. We absorb these demons and leave the now exercised person and go exercise these demons, giving them to others.

The histrionic is the fury or the harpy or the white rabbit. They are messengers of fate, and carriers of punishment.

Of course, that's based on introspection alone so it might not be relevant.

I think it's more important and constructive to take note of what I do with my thoughts rather than the content of my thoughts when I'm high.

I sometimes think of a deep philosophical concept, and like for example "Things are just so complicated!" and then my mind verifies this idea by going "COMPLICATED!" in a cartoon character way. Like, I verify things with impressions.

I can think of an area in my body and the nerves there will go crazy with the tingling, movement sensation that pot gives them. This is useful for when I'm trying to remember if my sunglasses are on my head like I am now!!!!

Basically my theory of thought, how thoughts work for me, is that I have so many thoughts and sensations that I try to fit the ocean of sensitivity to ideas that I have through a very small hole which is expression.

And as specific thoughts accumulate into less specific thought (because 100 percent specificity is impossible)they also collect power as I try to imply the deeper, microscopic impulses that are being crammed into this expression. What happens is people think I'm reacting strongly to one thing when really I'm trying to get around a deeper and more prevalent thing I want to express.

I have seen Dylan again a few times, but he won't even look at me. You know what, though? I don't care. He is not up to the level of the guy I like who's husband material.

I am torn by the idea that you don't actually look like how you see yourself, so I try to control this with controllable expressions but I use over-reactions because I'm self indulgent

My greatest skill in life is that I can hide what I'm good at until I have a shot at their throat.

I never see my mistakes until it's too late. I wait for punishment to make sure it's bad.

I fxcking hate school but I'm afraid of being alone

I feel unidentifiable

I am such a beautiful thing though. Like all that suffering is so hard to hold in. Some of it gets out of the cracks in my heart.

I'm afraid I'm a horrible person deep down but I might as well make you all happy with my ridiculous compensations

I hate the world sometimes because I fear it but sometimes I love the world because I fear nothing.

I want someone to love me the way I've loved fictional characters... love me as if I was a fictional character. I want to be a fictional character.

Half of me is in love with myself and the other half wants to kill that half because it's wrong

I've not even seen Dylan since the day I gave him the note. I do want to see him, but now that he knows I like him, he would seek me out if he wanted to see me. I just feel so incompetent socially. Like, I don't know if there's some common rule that I should seek him out now. I think it's funny that histrionics are considered to have great people skills, and I do have great people skills, but I don't understand people!

But I guess he's irrelevant now. I've obsessed over guys before and most of them are friendly to me when we run into each other. Dylan will just have to join them.

I like my RA a lot. The other day I was high and I texted him a question "Where are you?" When I sent it, I was going to ask for a hug because I was feeling depressed--when I'm left alone for too long while high, my thoughts become very depressing and dysmorphophobic. But then he responded "Are you okay?" and my heart fluttered. He knows how sensitive and kind of unstable I am.

So I took down one of my paintings from my wall and wrote him a letter on the back, and it was a thank you for everything he'd done for me and how he'd been the best RA I could've had, and how much he meant to me (without saying anything he should worry about). I used to make paintings just to give to him, so it was sentimental.

I asked him if he got it and he texted me back saying "I did. Thanks bud" and that was the last text he sent me. I'm afraid I @!@@@! it all up, but he knows me and he knows how I'll react if he gets cold. I sent him more texts apologizing for being annoying lately and asking him to tell me when he wanted to move my stuff for me (he's like a boyfriend it's great) when we move out, and then I sent one last one apologizing if my letter was out of line, and saying I was embarrassed. I hope to see him soon, since I just got back from going home for the weekend.

Oh, I never mentioned my now ex boyfriend "Mike". He was cheating on his boyfriend with me and had "legitimate" feelings for me, but he always tried to discount my experiences by saying he had similar ones. That caused everything I felt for him to vanish. I left him without a word. Friday, I saw him with his boyfriend and he tried to introduce us but I said I was stoned and ran away. I was actually high.

And that brings us to the main topic. I have mastered the role of Effy! The other day I woke up and decided to tear the sleeves off and old tee shirt to show off how skinny I've become, and I knew ever since that I had become one with Elizabeth Stonem. I'm so happy now because I can comfortably go about my life hiding all of my feelings but also being a good person with good advice. I'll speak in riddles and aphorisms and I'll be hard to control.

I like a new guy, "Collin". He is a friend of a friend who I met when I was performing somewhere. He's straight but he seems pretty in the middle. He once asked me to pick if I thought he was more attractive than my friend. The other day I was smoking a bong in my car and he got in the car next to me. I was high, so I started hardcore staring at him. He looked up and startled and then came around and asked if I was trying to do "that".

I thought he meant trying to get caught, but he meant trying to scare him. I was like "No. Sorry" and he was like "What?" and then when he walked away, I got his attention and asked him if he thought I was a bad person (I'm still operating under the pretense that he knows I was smoking pot). He replied by saying "What? No." in a very reassuring way.

He's just as critical of our mutual friend as I am and that is a beautiful thing. He is adorable! We might play soccer together later. I might also ask if he wants to smoke with me. 4/20! Praise it while you blaze it!

~*~ThE lOrD hAs RiSeN~*~