The On/Off Switch

It’s only Tuesday and I already feel like shit on toast. I just want to lay down, eat take out, make more wrestlers, and play Hollow Knight. My head’s been on a rollercoaster since last week. And the ride keeps stopping and going, stopping and going, and at different speeds.

Between the moment I made the decision to go back into counseling and the consultation I had last week I was feeling good. But then after that was over I felt everything suddenly take a sharp left turn.

I was fixing something to eat when one of my roommates grilled me about the cutting board not being washed. I hadn’t used it since four days before that and I know I cleaned it right after. But she didn’t believe me and the way she asked, “Are you sure?” sounded so condescending. I remember chopping up the vegetables really hard after that. Which begs an important question…is it really such a good idea to say something stupid or give attitude to someone when they’ve got sharp objects in their hands?

I finished cooking and I washed up the other cutting board that I had just used before retreating back into my room. I wasn’t just annoyed. I was pissed. More than the normal person should be over something like that. Then I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn’t. Suddenly everything was pissing me of. I couldn’t concentrate on an assignment that should’ve been a breeze for me.

I tried to sleep it off, but no. This bad feeling was still festering inside of me. It started off as irritability, but then there was that feeling of detachment and isolation that I tried so hard to get over last year. I felt like I was just dragging my feet around everything.

And when I had gotten back from classes I told my oldest friend, Ellison, about how my day went. I mentioned how I was going back into counseling in order to prevent my depression from getting bigger. I said to him, “I made the right call to go back when I did and now it feels like my inner demons are angry. They’re out for blood.”

That’s when El said to me, “Are you bipolar? Seriously? Have you ever been diagnosed?”

To answer that question, no I’ve never been diagnosed as bipolar. I was just describing to him what it felt like for me. Normally I would’ve shrugged off a comment like that without a problem, but the idea of it got stuck to my head. It latched onto me and I started to think, “what if I really am?”

It took everything I had in me to not go on WebMD or whatever to look up the symptoms of bipolar. But I ended up slipping and did it anyway. I even looked up tests for proper diagnosis and medications needed.

This idea latched onto me the next day. I was still dragging my feet and dreading at the possibility of it. And it started to make me analyze every little thing I’ve ever said or done in the last couple of years.

When the weekend hit I had to make it my mission to get it out of my head as much as possible. I did not want to think about it, I did not want to self-diagnose before counseling had actually started up, I was gonna keep myself distracted. And I did exactly that.

I went out. I ate some damn good ramen. I had coffee. I bought myself an adult coloring book to help with my nerves and did a few pages that night. I made a new wrestler named Fiona Grimm and she came out perfect.

I downloaded Steam on my Mac and bought Hollow Knight. I got started on another wrestler based off another one of my good friends, Garnet.


He’s not in any way complete, but here’s what I got so far.

For the most part I felt good over the weekend. But there were still moments where I sank back into the negative. And this would keep repeating, over and over again.

I’m convinced that there is some annoying shit head kid that’s playing with my brain. Just messing with the wiring and tearing shit apart or playing with the switch that controls all my thoughts and emotions. Constantly off and on, off and on, off and on….

I was on total sensory overload today. Especially in my second class of the day. Girl crunching on her snacks nonstop, people behind me are chattering away about something stupid, someone slams their book shut real hard. It either made me want to jump out of my skin or raise hell.

I couldn’t wait to get back home. On the plus side I finally got my check. I’m not going hungry anymore. And I treated myself to some much needed retail therapy. Well sort of…it was more stuff that I actually needed more than stuff I wanted. Like a new antivirus. For some reason, Kaspersky has failed me entirely. My subscription went out months ago. So I try get a new one through Amazon. Every time I make an order my payment was declined. After trying numerous times I opted for an entirely different one, BitDefender. I love it already. I was infected with like twelve viruses and it got them out no problem. I’ve bought a bunch of Adobe software. It’s all going to up my creativity for sure. I’m getting a terabyte hard drive to help with all the excess stuff I’ve got on my Mac. I’m going ahead with my special plans on combatting my depression through my other creative methods as well.

I stand by what I’ve said before. I’m not giving in. Today was shitty. I have to pick myself up and keep going. That’s all that I can do.


Declaration of War

Oh boy oh boy. There is nothing that makes my life feel more complete than being able to experience anxiety and depression only to address it nonstop. How’s that for an opener?

I had written that I wasn’t depressed and that I was doing a lot better thanks to my creative binges. But now suddenly….


Here’s a rundown on what’s been going on with me. My depression has been coming and going in these waves. Some waves are small and easy to power right through. But now those waves are growing and trying to swallow me whole. It’s just like last year. I felt this happening inside of me and I didn’t do anything about it until the summer semester, which was after so much damage had been done. My loyal followers from back then will know what I’m talking about. All you newbies, sucks to be you right now if you’re lost and confused.

My energy keeps waning, I’m losing the ability to concentrate, I have little food stored up in my house, and my bank account is in the negative while my refund check is taking FOREVER to process. I’m literally as hungry and irritated as all of Venezuela right now. If you don’t get the cultural reference, again it really sucks to be you. Consult Dr.Google to connect the dots.

I had already made the decision to go seek counseling again earlier this week. My Mom and my cousins are my motivation for wanting to get better and keep going. I’m not in my darkest place and I want to keep it that way. I want to go to keep a problem from getting bigger. I don’t want to go when I’m in another tight spot that I have to fight tooth-and-nail to get out of like I had to last summer. I told this to one of my professors when we met during office hours. She suggested that I go to the Dean of Students with this. And I did. I marched straight to his office right after and spoke with him. He set up an initial consult for me and I went yesterday.

Between that Monday night phone call with my Mom and the consult I was feeling fine. There was nothing negative going on. But when I got back to the house things changed. Flood gates burst open and now the Nightmares are back with a vengeance.

I’m getting triggered left and right by little things again. Sounds of footsteps, a dog’s barking, doors opening and closing. I can’t seem to handle being around people all of a sudden. I see someone smiling, couples holding hands, friends having a good time, not having a care in the world and it just fucking offends me.

I tried to go to bed early but my brain just wouldn’t turn off. My body felt hot. The hunger pains kept increasing. My thoughts were racing. Suddenly I can’t concentrate on my schoolwork nor my creativity.

I’ve always referred my depression as the “Nightmare Syndrome”. I’ve made the analogy that dealing with the negativity combined with daily living feels like fighting a bunch of monsters, referring to them as “Nightmares”. I can’t help but almost feel like they’re acting out because I opted to deal with the problem so soon. Like they’re trying to exact revenge upon me. Maybe even try to make me quit before I truly start up my sessions, continue my creative work, and finally finish things with school.

Anyone who’s been following me from the very beginning know where this is going right? I’m not backing down. I’m going through with things. Yeah, I’m already feeling cornered and trapped, but I know I can get out of it. I’m declaring war on my Nightmares. Whatever challenges come my way I will show no mercy. Anyone who stands in my way, says or does anything to make me feel shitty about myself or try to obstruct me in any way will be dealt with in the same way as those Nightmares.

I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m royally pissed off, but I have the greatest weapons, armor, and powers to fight back and win. And I’m not alone anymore! I know I’m not! I got my Mom, my cousins, my real friends, and a whole lot of characters living in my head that can help me!

So I’m going to counseling again, but I don’t see that as a failure or defeat. I need help and I went out of my way to ask for it. I don’t care how tough you think you are, but admitting to needing help and nutting up to ask for it requires a lot of strength and courage. I’m showing strength and courage by getting the jump on things before it becomes a Doomsday situation in my mind. That is all.


For the longest time I’ve always wanted to be able to write stories. From the time I was little I was always making these scenarios in my mind, not realizing that I was weaving stories in my own way. I was weaving stories in everything that I was doing. Scribbling down ideas on notebook paper, playing with my action figures, daydreaming how I could emulate the adventures I’d seen in films and books.

For a much longer time I prevented myself from truly embracing my creativity. Whenever someone insulted me or hated on my ideas I took it hard. Whenever someone said that being a writer wasn’t a “practical” career choice it dashed all my hopes and dreams of the future.

Everyone’s thoughts, opinions, comments, intentionally hateful or not, suppressed me. Then I started to buy into it. I suppressed myself with my own theories, my depression, and the like.

I refer to my imagination as the “creation spark”. And now I feel like my “spark” has grown to the point where it’s devoured me in body, mind, and soul. Lately whenever I get involved with something creative it feels like reality fades away. And not only that all the usual noise I’m used to getting from my depression and anxiety…it’s completely silenced.


Whenever I’m creating something on my WWE game, time slips away from me. Nothing else matters. I don’t hear the disembodied voice that tells me I’m not good enough, never pretty enough to attract a suitor, or that I’m worthless. Even bigger thing to point out is that I’m not comparing myself to other creative minds anymore. I don’t feel anyone else towering over me. That, by itself, is one of the most liberating and empowering things I’ve ever felt.

I don’t care about anyone else’s work. Not even the ones I’ve always admired like Stan Lee, Tarantino, or any of the people I’ve known in my personal life. In my mind, I’ve already declared myself the best creator there is. I haven’t been limiting myself to this WWE game of course. I’m creating my own worlds, finding myself, learning new things, and it’s helping me make sense of everything in this reality that’s always warped my mind.

Somehow I’m becoming completely “Nightmare Proof”. My brain is getting re-wired in a way that overpowers all the depressing thoughts and feelings of anxiety. I feel a lot stronger. I feel like I’m my most authentic self right now. Things don’t worry me like they used to. And if there’s a problem I’m prepared to deal with it.

I’ve always referred to my depression as the “Nightmare Syndrome”. I’ve talked about how every experience feels like fighting monsters left and right. I think now this is the time where I have all the right armor, weapons, and skills needed to actually fight back against all of the things that have ever tried to destroy me; my depression, this unfair reality, and all the people that try to break me down.

I’m still getting the hang of things, but I’m going to see what happens from here and keep everyone posted.

Oh yeah. One more thing. I’m going to create a second site meant for fictional works that I’m willing to share. So for all the loyal followers that are interested, stay tuned and I will keep you updated.

The name of the site is Creation Spark Central. I will be sharing stuff like my fictional universe, my wrestling promotion, my own superheroes, my own everything. Show you what kind of acid trip imagination that I have. It’s not just to show off my writing skills, but also nurture my creativity so that I will never lose it again. I’m not trying to get published and become famous here. Writing and creating need to be fun first before they become a full time job after all.

I leave you with that. Signing off now!

Word Crazy. Stir Crazy.

It’s been about a minute since I last posted anything on here. I’ve been back in Boone for a week now. I have not spoken a single word at any of my roommates nor give them a single glance. I do not acknowledge their existence. That’s how I truly feel. It’s not just them, but everything else in this reality that I live in. I guess you can say that I’ve escaped into my fantasy world.

I’ve been slaving myself away at my WWE game creating more superstars for my promotion. I’ve even made my own arena and “shows”. I’ve uploaded them. I’ve shared them on the CAWS.WS forum. People are actually noticing my work and downloading them. Here’s a show case of my work.

Suddenly I feel like everything is giving me ideas. Not just for my fictional wrestling promotion, but for everything else. It’s like everything my senses pick up is making me get all tingly. I sometimes feel like my cells are bursting like lightning bolts. Even more so since I’ve returned.

Other than that, nothing terribly exciting or overly dramatic has occurred. I survived the cold weather. It’s now a nice, comfortable 56 degrees outside. That’s warm for Boone, NC for those that are wondering. I thought I’d be having multiple mental meltdowns by now, but nothing has happened. I thought I’d be fighting off more bad thoughts and feelings too, but I’ve had nothing of the sort.

I’m thinking about taking this creative binge of mine to the next level. I think I’m gonna showcase my fictional writing here. The stuff I don’t plan on publishing for fame and fortune anyway. Then again anything is possible. I might be able to open up a second blog here and on Tumblr. I’ll start from there and see what develops after that. Once I have something to share with everyone then I’ll let all my followers know.

Could this be another crazy idea of mine that I might never follow up on? Or try and fail? No way to find out except to go through with it. Besides it’ll be nice to share something else that doesn’t revolve around depression or life in Boone. Or life in a reality that I sometimes hate living in.

This is the part where my ticking bomb goes off.

Later days.

My Boulevard of Broken Dreams

So for the better part of my evening last night I spent my time creating wrestlers on my WWE 2k18 game, after somehow losing my data (I’m not bitter Sony…). Let me tell you, it’s a time consuming process when you’re trying to create your own fantasy promotion. Here’s a few pics of the chick I created.

I named her Sophia Riley. She’s a British punk rock warrior. I’m proud of this creation and currently working on her background. But sometime between deciding how big Sophia’s ass should be and making a move list that didn’t make her overpowered as hell….

I was lamenting. Over shit that I have no power over. Go figure huh? My tragic little writer’s brain was working in overtime. I’ve been on another creative binge. I should be happy about it. I’m creating my own world and making it as detailed as possible without having to worry about what others think. But I have no one to share any of it with. Yes, I do have friends that support my writing and try to offer help whenever I need it. But I feel like I can’t share everything with them. I’ve mentioned this before, there aren’t a lot of people who are on the same wavelength as me. Not since that one friend from long ago.

I started to feel lonely. Then angry. And bitter. Earlier yesterday I felt jealous of others who have no problems with connecting with people, keeping friends close, having everything they want, and doing whatever they’d like without anything holding them back. But then I remind myself that it’s better this way. How much happier would I be conforming to something? Especially when the majority of the human race repulses me on a chemical level.

In fact the more that I’m thinking back on it the louder the Green Day song plays in my head. I’m sure you know which one. The lyrics resonate with everything that I feel.

-I walk a lonely road. The only one that I have ever known. Don’t know where it goes, but it’s only me and I walk alone.
-My shadow’s the only one that walks beside me. My shallow heart is the only thing that’s beating. Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me. Till then I walk alone.

Pretty sure I’ve just embodied the ultimate package of a writer’s cliche.

Nobody to understand or appreciate the things I create. Nobody to make time for me. Nobody to see, listen, or truly accept me. Nobody in this reality of flesh, blood, chaos, death, and decay. Just me and a million of imaginary friends that live inside my head.

In a way this gives me more motivation to move forward and deal with things. You’re gonna have to excuse this melodramatic statement, but here it goes…

I refuse to have my thoughts and ideas die with me. My dreams will not stay as dreams. And if I’m forced to do things alone then so be it. These feelings of loneliness and negativity suck, but not as much as people do these days.

These feelings I will embrace and turn them into power, motivation, and creative fuel as well.

Everything and everybody else…fuck them. Chuck it in the “Fuck It” Bucket and keep it moving.


That New Year, New Me Bullshit

It is day two of 2018. I celebrated New Year’s Eve with my relatives. The majority of that day was spent in the kitchen making both croquettes and sushi. My sushi game isn’t entirely perfect, but it’s a vast improvement from where I was in the beginning. It’s a not a recipe to take lightly. A fun time was had by all.

I’m not depressed or anything. Really, I’m not. But I kept my excitement for the New Year in check while everyone keeps talking about what they hope 2018 will bring, posting resolutions and lofty goals about some cliched stuff like losing weight, finding romance, or pursuing unfulfilled goals. Your run of the mill “New Year, New Me” bullshit.

I have thought of what I want, but I don’t feel like sharing it with everyone like I normally would. Besides, let’s be real, I’ve been sharing that sort of stuff in almost every other post I’ve ever written.

When I tried writing my own list of resolutions it came out looking like something else. It looked more like a “Fuck It” List. That much I will share.

There is some shit that I’m just done with. I say “Fuck It” to all that stuff.

I’m done with the following…
-Biting my tongue.
-Being invisible.
-Being so damned mindful of others at my own expense.
-Holding back everything I think or feel.
-Caring about how others think or feel.
-Fearing consequences.

I’m like Wade Wilson. My brain is switched to “Fuck it”. More than likely I’m gonna come off as someone whose campaigning for biggest bitch of the year. I don’t even care about that. That’s the upside of getting older. The older I get, the less I care. I pulled that line from Wanda Sykes by the way. It matches my mood. I no longer possess any type of energy for any artifice or facades of any kind.

At first I thought this was depression doing the thinking and talking for me. But nope, I’m just fed up with things the way they are and how I’ve been living my life up until now.

My life doesn’t completely suck. I’ve been in tighter, uglier spots. But I’m not living the fairy tale I’ve always wanted either. If anything had gone according to plan I’d have been done with college, be a published author, travelled to Japan, and have married the man of my dreams.

Meanwhile I see everyone getting what they want because they’ve followed through on their rigid 5 year plans. Then I get so jealous that my eyes turn emerald green. Jealousy is still such a abnormal feeling for me. I had never been jealous of anyone my entire life until four years ago. I wish I could cut it out of my body like a cancerous tumor just like everything else that I don’t like about myself.

So I’m gonna take that jealousy and use it as motivation. Everything that’s ugly in this reality will no longer obstruct me, but will give me power. Whatever I don’t like about myself I will not allow it to have control over me. Doesn’t matter if it’s my “Nightmare Syndrome” or anything else.

So there’s my “New Year, New Me” bullshit. I leave you with that.