The world and I are not getting along. I mean, we’re working things out but it’s taking a damn long time, or so it seems. Am I writing just to… oh, I don’t know — why am I writing? Thoughts never translate well to paper in my experience. However constructive they appear, as neurons fire, there’s a barrier present. I know what it is now, though. It’s expectation. That whatever I write has to be something special. But none of it is.

“No worthwhile thought shall pass through these hands!”

I’ve written this before. I repeat myself a lot. It might be because I’ve successfully gotten this shit out of my brain and onto a hard drive before. It’s something I know how to do. These new and exciting thoughts that make me a better person, a more focused person are entirely new to me. If I have trouble doing them, how am I supposed to be able to write about them?

New and exciting to me, entirely old and uninteresting to you. You’ve been doing it for a long time. I’m just getting started. Every little task is an Everest of thought.


The world outside my tiny apartment scares me. Venturing out in public is an ordeal I’d rather not have to deal with. Whenever I do I feel judged and surveilled. I feel like I’m trespassing. I tense up, look mean, stare straight ahead. I walk with a purpose — to do what I have to and get away as quickly as possible. All the while afraid someone will notice me. It’s an ever present feeling of dread; I’m expecting to be called out. Singled out. At any moment.

It’s been like that since I was a kid. My first memory of social anxiety goes back to 1990. At certain points in my life it’s been easier, at other points worse. It’s pretty bad now.

Thursday, 9. September, 2010 · , , , , &


Lillesøster · 12. Sep. 2010

Jeg vet at jeg ikke akkurat er objektiv her, men det du skriver er så bra, og så sant for veldig mange mennesker. Inkludert meg.

Angående å skrive noe spesielt (og nå går jeg full on klisjé her):

"There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard"

s0ulman · 28. Sep. 2010

Oh, finally, a new post! I thought you'll never write here again.
I've been reading your notes over and over again for a year and a half now, and every single one is a gem.
Thank you. I mean, really, things have been pretty chaotic for me, and your... well, texts seem to be the best cure for the torturing dizziness of the mind, bitter but perfectly reliable.
Good luck with those everests. They might be hard to climb, especially the tallest ones, but once you're on the top, you realize it was worth every single endless second of the long way up.