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Well hell, I can't say this isn't awkward. You seem to have linked your consciousness with mine somehow, at least for now. Let me just get the biggest things out of the way as soon as possible before you get to pick at the things my brain decides to create.
I have OCD, potentially schizotypal. High chance of comorbid Autism. I was a gifted kid, so the school never thought to get anything but my IQ tested. Any outward social differences seemed to just make me stronger. I tried, for a very long time, to be the brightest bulb in the room. To shine in the darkness, against the grain of the entire world, trying to understand as much of the universe as I could without coming down to earth and taking care of myself. I went to great lengths to take care of my friends and partners and family; while sometimes that's resulted in relationships that have burst the seams of my imagination with joy, it's also a personality trait of mine that has fomented some of the worst situations I have ever lived through. An absolute rollercoaster. Some days, my thoughts get so wrapped up and in on themselves that I can think for hours on end about extreme specificities about experiences in my past, and I've never been able to talk about them with anyone. I understand that no one would want to unwillingly become subject to these babblings. But you, you chose to click onto here. I didn't force you. Please remember that you can stop reading if you ever feel uncomfortable. But me, I am trapped by a web of obsessive thoughts, a prison of my own design, one that has completely dialectically eliminated the sharing of my true thoughts and past from conversation like I had allowed to flow freely before. At the end of the hours-long torture, the thoughts only make sense if they're in writing. Does that make me an alien? Probably?
Maybe, for starters, we could call these "logs" instead of "blogs?" I guess I'd describe these as life lessons. If you're struggling with something like what I've got, there might be some bits of wisdom you could pick out of the maelstrom here. I hope you find yourself entertained by the way my mind works, or inspired by the way that I use words to write some prose or poetry of your own, at the very least. The first step is always the hardest step.
Anyways, that's me. Thanks for reading this far, if you have. The actual thesis for my logs, perhaps not my first few but building off of them into the future, are as follows:
I think obsession is beautiful. When someone is so clearly enthralled with something that you can't help but absorb the information from them when they talk about it. When people make excuses to bring comparisons between things that they love and what they're currently seeing. It's history, and it's science; it's math, and it's music. EVERYTHING we hear about is an echo, either something that someone heard once or imagined and subsequently created. I've been trying everyday, in vain, to fold all these echoes in on themselves, to trace them back to their source and have something I could say or add to the world that would help people who've lost their way see that this place could be beautiful and peaceful with a little work. But that's been exhausting and depressing. In light of this, taking the only off-ramp I can find, I've decided to turn inward, and allow others to see the beauty and the horror that I see in our world as I see it. Whether that's a following of readers, my parents or friends new and old that I ask to read this as an icebreaker to who I am nowadays, or just a time capsule of truth for myself in the future - I know in my melon heart that this is worth the time I'm investing in it. Sorry if it's super depressing.
Please enjoy the proceeding obsessive ramblings of one of the aliens that walks among you, permeating the rest of this blog space.
If you want to see the art that we make, please click the link below.
-G
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