Hopeless tranquility

So.... yeah.

Here I am listening to sad, and somewhat liminal, music, reflecting on faded memories.

The Super no Ura manga by Yani Sū Futari is moving. I loved it; I'm saving myself for chapters 55 and up, which seem to be the most intense. Wow, and I can't wait to get to chapter 67; it seems to be especially good.

I don't want to dwell too much on the implicit conclusions of reading this manga. I'll just say this:

• Yes, I'm sorry (to myself). I keep putting off illustration 31. That said, it's finished. I just need to figure out how to organize the organelle labels; I don't think I quite got the spatial arrangement right. Oh well, I'll see if I can manage it one of these days.

More importantly:

• I finished the final project. I sent it to my tutor for review. I'm sure there will be a lot of terrible corrections. Or maybe he'll realize it's poorly written. Whatever. But... I guess I don't care. The important thing is that I finished it before the year was out. What's left is pure bureaucracy. 

So why am I uncertain? 

Oh, right. 

Because the university sent out a notice about presenting the progress of final projects to a list of students, which includes me. I read the whole notice and it seems it's not mandatory... however, a former classmate said it was.

No... I'm going to apply to present it. 

I don't know what the consequences will be. 

I don't want to go in front of everyone. 

It's not just that the topic is weak. 

Rather, it's that I'm still afraid of being in front of a lot of people. I've probably said that more than once. When I go up the subway stairs, for some reason I feel like I'm being watched a lot and I start breathing hard. I don't like it. Presenting it is the same.

...

I don't want to talk about it anymore. Because it makes me melancholic. I don't think I have any other significant progress at the moment. Maybe the amphibian guide, but I haven't made much progress on that either. Hmm, yes, I really did waste my time. If there's anything I can be proud of right now, it's having corrected some crazy data in the final project in time.

There's no point in asking myself why I'm in this situation.

The night is silent and lonely.

The cold fills my chest as my cough slowly fades away.

Tomorrow I have to get up early to go with mother. Next week we're going to sell some sweets on the street because there's going to be a celebration for some anniversary of the micro-town where I live. And it was me who suggested we start doing something entrepreneurial. Mother doesn't know that, deep down, it's because I don't see much of a future in my career with my degree. If I even get one, which is another long topic already discussed many times in previous posts.

I confess, I don't like the idea of ​​going to sell things. People. Everywhere. But the world is somehow cruel yet indifferent. Ignoring my weaknesses, I have to go and behave myself. That, or never get used to suffering. I don't like the idea of ​​going to sell things. I'd prefer a solitary job that covers my needs, of course. And that gives me time to keep drawing and writing, a couple of things that, even though I technically have the time now, I don't take advantage of.

None of the girls from my past matter anymore. Except for k44levy. Well, she doesn't take up too much space either. I know very well why.

I think I'm going to sleep. 

I'll dream of a better world. 

A better reality. 

I hope that the Sasakis and Yamadas of the world manage to escape their inner labyrinths and find the happiness they deserve if they are both sincere. The world is already gray and, essentially, horrible enough without wanting to ruin other people's lives with trivialities and instability. 

Truly, I wouldn't wish my current situation on anyone. 

I really pray that you are happy, dear stranger.

c:

With the intention of reporting progress

I hope this is a short post. It's about some recent updates. There aren't many, but I hope they're significant. I was planning to write about other things, but today I realized something more unsettling: my last two posts before this one received over 100 views.

(>_･ ) ! ! !

...and from whom? Hello, dear stranger! I hope I haven't disturbed or saddened you too much. I mean it. Life is a real downer sometimes, and well, this is just a kind of diary.

⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛(๑•﹏•)⋆͛*͛ ͙͛ ⁑͛⋆͛*͛ ͙͛

𓏵

𓏵

𓏵

Speaking of diaries, I just remembered that this post was supposed to be about the latest updates. Well, these past few days have been relatively stable. I finally managed to meet with my final project reviewer, and they've already asked me to make the final formatting corrections to send it to the defense professors for review. From there, in theory, they'll start coordinating the final project defense. Do I feel bad about it? Yes. Honestly, it's not the best research topic. I also haven't approached it with the rigor I should have. I'm afraid it will be met with strong resistance, and rightly so. And no, I don't think I'm downplaying myself here. I'm aware that I haven't done it as I should have. I haven't researched the topic at all, only superficially, just to get by.

I'd like to say that at least I've put some effort into my own personal projects. That's not the case, but at least I haven't gotten completely stuck, which would be truly regrettable. However, it could be said that I've abandoned (I don't know if completely) the goal of the Protista Project. What I feared most has happened: the desire or fervor to continue has vanished, as with so many other things. Complexity scared me again! At least I managed to break free from the spiral of finishing the drawings for Illustration 31, so all that remains is to organize the names of the organelles, and then I'll be publishing it. I don't know if I'll do it soon. I would hope that this week (I think I already promised that before, just to empty words), if not next month, or maybe never. If I do publish it, will I continue with number 32? I don't know yet. I'd need to find genuine motivation again.

As for my written texts, they're all abandoned. Except for the one on amphibians. I haven't made much progress, but I'd say I've already reached the seventh species. I don't even know why I say that since I'll most likely abandon writing that amphibian guide as soon as something equally complicated to research comes along. Although for now, I still find joy in discovering seemingly unavailable information. And reading those very old research papers. I truly admire those researchers. They really had the determination to get things done.

(•˕ •マ.ᐟ

My health is stable. I've managed to improve my digestion. But lately I've been feeling pressure under my right rib, like under my liver. I know it could be a sign of gallstone attacks. Last week I had a particularly nasty feeling of pressure. I was nauseous all afternoon. And I felt the same way for the rest of the week. Now I have less intense episodes. But they're still there. I'm a little scared that something might happen to me. I still have some secret savings. I've been researching nice places to eat and get away from the pressure for a bit. This Friday, despite everything, I'm supposed to go for cheesecake and then pizza with fries. It makes me so angry and devastated that my gallbladder seems to have started failing just when I'm trying to regain some control over my life. But I've already promised myself I'll go to those restaurants as soon as possible. I'd really be devastated if something happened to me and, after the surgery, I wasn't able to enjoy food anymore.

Mother has gotten sick. Quite sick. To get straight to the point: she seems to have a history of diabetic foot. That pisses me off, because I started remembering the mysterious tingling I have in my big toe, and now it feels more ominous. Damn doctor, he didn't take it seriously when I told him about it. "Well, it's been like that since childhood, right?" Damn. I'm sorry if you're a doctor, dear reader. But lately I've been distrustful of the medical culture. The one that emphasizes prestige and financial gain, seeing patients as numbers, individuals who contribute to the statistics. "As soon as you have the money, come get the surgery." Dreams and goals are minimized when it comes to living longer.

(≖_≖ )

It's hard to write while trying to ignore this tingling. But... ugh. Anyway. Getting back to the loose idea from the previous paragraph. Mother was ordered to have tests done for diabetic foot. Suspected diabetic foot. This is a sign—actually, there have been more, but I interpret them as signs that my free time to try to focus on my projects, and deal with the final project, is running out. I don't see myself having any hope of a peaceful future with a stable, not-too-demanding job. I think I'll soon have to prioritize survival over my "dreams" or "ambitions." Although, in retrospect, I've always said that about things I ended up leaving unfinished or abandoning.

I hope those tests come back clear tomorrow. Either way, it's a sign of my ancestors aging. I don't know how much longer my father will be around, either. But oh well. I have to get up early, so I should go to sleep now.

I hope.

At least.

Post that illustration.

In search of the ideal reflection. On things and contexts.

I feel so calm right now, despite the usual pain in one of my fingers (how I hate it). 

No, but seriously. The rain is gently pattering on the roof. The night is cold, and I've paused for a moment from writing the amphibian guide. Illustration 31 of protists is almost finished; I just need to add a few details and the names of the organelles. The amphibian guide is still a work in progress, but I'm making as much progress as I can. I've already started working on the illustrations for my final project. I need to finish it soon because it's already October, and it's been almost two years since I got stuck on it. And there's what looks like a premature presentation of my final project coming up at one of those crappy conferences they always put on at the university. I don't really like the idea, but mother was getting anxious, and I had to ask her if I was going to present my final project in front of an audience so she wouldn't ask the administration, because I'm afraid she'll find out the truth. No, actually, I'm afraid of her reaction, that she'll definitely humiliate me in front of everyone.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

There are so many things I have to do. But now, in light of this playlist, I feel somewhat less haunted. I imagine happy scenarios with people who were already in the past. Lately, I haven't had any memories with girl M or with (2)1(1)_11(2)-(2)1(1)-(3)1-11(1)1. Could you say I got over those pseudo-phases with them? 

(ᵕ—ᴗ—)

I don't really know. But either way, I don't care because, well, they're in the past. K44levy carries more weight somehow. It was obvious, even though I know it was all orchestrated.

I'm reading the Super no Ura de Yani Suu Futari manga. You probably know what I'm talking about, one of the latest hits of the year, about a forty-something office worker who strikes up a friendship with a cashier, and the relationship seems to gradually deepen. It's a calm manga, and I like its tone.

I'm rooting for their happiness.

•𐃷•

My reflection is that what I like, in general, is calmness. Despite the negative passivity it eventually brings. You know, not taking risks means you don't experience misfortunes, but neither do you experience the potential rewards. I think I'm more inclined to avoid misfortunes, although sometimes my impulses lead me to misfortunes or disappointments, and not so much to true rewards. That's why I think I like calm.

✖✖✖

✖✖✖✖✖

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

I had a virtual English class. You know, because I have to finish my final project, or else this investment in certifications will be a huge mistake. The typical crappy classes where they force you to talk to strangers online to practice speaking, which I actually need to improve a lot. Today's topic was about finding happiness in a place. A standard video of a guy who went on a trip to Copenhagen, the happiest city in the world, at least in the time frame of the video. Then a round of questions where I had to give substantial answers in English to demonstrate my level of... English.

One of the questions was about where I feel most at home, what a place would need to have for me to feel like home... And I was thinking... I haven't really felt truly at home. Every place I've been has always presented at least one major drawback. Here with mother, everything is stable and the cold weather is pleasant, but having to live in anticipation of when she'll snap is exhausting, eventually. Going off without permission to the capital and just spending time on the grass at the university seems to give me relaxing vibes for a moment, but I'm constantly aware of the danger around me, since it's an area where I can be temporarily, not permanently. Where my father is, I have the advantage of being with someone who doesn't demand as much of me, but the weather is awful, and the people in the neighborhood too; I felt threatened on all fronts. Thank goodness Dad was there to escort me.

Apparently: X:@myntx__ IG:@myntx__

........................................... So, where do I truly feel at peace? 

With k44levy, I felt equally out of place and like I was making a huge mistake. And that's where I completely laid myself bare.

I think my true home is wherever I have at least a phone or a computer. And where I can simply research or read about something random. With no intentions or greater goal than to pass the time. Alone.

☢️

And I don't mean that in a negative sense of loneliness. I think that, ultimately, I feel most comfortable when I'm absorbed in my thoughts with no threats around me. Listening to my favorite music. To the sound of raindrops. Not bravery. Not great rewards. But not risks either. Stability, that's what I seem to be looking for in the end. To live without feeling guilty for existing.

Lately I've been listening to a lot of vaporwave. I've stopped listening to dubstep and future funk. Sometimes I feel like listening to music from the eighties or nineties, leaning towards the calmer stuff. Don't get me wrong, I still like the other styles, dubstep still appeals to me. But right now, when I listen to them, I don't feel any excitement.

I only feel the joy of a good melody, but no emotion. With vaporwave, right now, that's not the case. Well, it depends on the music, too. But I'm repeating the songs of "desert sand feels warm at night" to myself; his music has a calmness and slowness that coincides with my passive solitude at this moment. 

Because at other times I preferred romantic music, but that was because I had a specific ghost on my mind. It seems that's no longer the case. I don't feel sad exactly; I don't know if this is described as nostalgia for past moments when it seemed I was going to reach the ideal.

As if the ideal was ever even real at any point in the history of life. But that doesn't matter. Because perfection lies in the moments that, right now, make me feel welcome. The solitude, the tranquility, the serenity of this moment. They give me an inexplicable warmth. I feel that fear doesn't exist while I write, taking refuge in vaporwave. While I plan my to-dos for tomorrow. To the rhythm of the song's slow, deep voices.

I hope to stay stable for a while longer, even if I don't make any progress. 

But I need to focus on finishing the final project. 

I hope the calm lasts. I hope I don't go off the rails and face the stoats again. If it happens... I'll definitely tell you about it.

Do I remember anyone right now?

No.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

I suppose my father.

I hope he's well.

I hope I can meet with him again.

I hope I can give him a more appropriate hug from someone my age.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Ultimately, I suppose k44levy also occupies an important place in my mind. I should dedicate a drawing to her, an illustration of a protist.

Yes... that would be... ideal.

Ik bin net yn steat om myn doelen te foltôgjen

=^._.^= ∫

I don't want to go to any more doctor's appointments. It's exhausting to imagine having to spend money on that instead of spending quality time with someone. What if I have a mole that looks suspicious because of its irregular shape? What if I have suspicious inflammation in my gallbladder? What if I have an abnormal curvature in my spine? Well, those are the things that definitely make me feel weak. 

Actually, I am weak. I'm not writing this out of self-pity or a desire to be in pain; I'm just feeling disconnected as I write. I'm trying to write a guide, and I set a certain number of species to finish soon. But it seems to be getting longer. Oh well, at least I've got about five species covered. I hope to finish it eventually. How about before the end of the year? Hmm, I don't know.

That's a lie. These last years, I'm incapable of finishing anything I set my mind to. I used to feel invincible when it came to writing anything. But just seeing the sheer effort involved seems to overwhelm me. How, then, do I plan to live like this? That's what's troubling me right now.

0_null is stupid. Why are all the people around me imperfect and, eventually, awful? She doesn't realize that Individual S is cheating on her with others. I know I should keep it a secret, but honestly, I think it's a total mess. And 0_null is still so in love with this guy. So why do I keep supporting Individual S? I know perfectly well. It's not even because I consider him "the closest thing to a friend" because I've never considered anyone a friend. Least of all Individual S, who has shown signs of aggression when I couldn't help him with something. As far as I'm concerned, he can go to hell if he wants. The main reason I'm still in contact with him is for some business opportunity or help in case everything about me comes out and I get kicked out. 

But I don't feel safe.

I feel so sorry for 0_null. Why did I end up in this situation, knowing about their awful situations? I should have distanced myself from and insulted Individual S as soon as I could. In fact, I've already let him know that he's a piece of shit for being like that; even the ermines harassed him when he was in that penthouse with that random he told me about. His mother was furious with him. Obviously. 

So was I. 

Because 0_null has a similar sense of humor to mine. If I were 0_null's boyfriend, I wouldn't treat her or cheat on her like that. God knows the last thing I'd want is to betray the special person who makes me feel complete.

.

.

.

But there's nothing I can do about it. Hah, a small aside: this was supposed to be short. That said, all the more reason this profile, everything related to DOTkamina, should remain hidden from almost everyone. Well, at least from those I know. I know I'm putting myself at risk. But these are things that, honestly, I can't just keep quiet about sometimes. 

I'm sorry.

The night is so warm when you ignore everything that awaits you, and headphones protect you from the harshness of the environment, even though using them for more than four hours is clearly a sign of significant hearing damage. It's ironic that the title is longer than the first sentence.

I am an empty.

0_null, I've written to her again. It's an old allegory.

I believe less and less that I'll ever graduate.

Even so, I'm applying for a job as a field assistant with some desert lizards. The pay is good.

It's sad to see that in the end, my only motivation is finding a job that pays as much as possible, regardless of whether I even like it.

I still like biology

but I think more as a hobby.

-

-

If I had known, I would have chosen medicine or some kind of engineering.

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

--

-

-

-

-

-

-

A little warmth obtained until I feel empty again.

I appreciate it anyway. 

I still remember when you held my hand firmly. 

Useless memories.

♥a♥t♥t♥e♥m♥p♥t♥ t♥o♥ k♥e♥e♥p♥ m♥o♥v♥i♥n♥g♥ f♥o♥r♥w♥a♥r♥d♥

 

Actually, this is just a filler post. 

Last night I finished a new illustration. I hope I can get back to that activity, or at least write about this illustration, which is already proving difficult to shake off my laziness/lack of motivation, so I can write it and upload it to Wikimedia. The fear of the final project hasn't gone away, but believe me, I really do have it almost finished. Not in the simple and guilt-free way I'd like, but at least it's not just an empty title and pages. Anyway, I'm not going to ramble on too much, am I? 

I always feel a certain security when I write things because, who knows, for a moment it feels like my only job is to omnisciently comment on the things that happen around me, giving the illusion that I don't have to face and run away from my problems again. 

I'd like to learn some coding or vector and 3D graphic design someday; hopefully, I'll be more resilient for it. Well, I won't waste any more time writing this post. A fresh new post with real substance awaits. 

I'm sleepy and my head feels a bit heavy, but... I'll try.

biology sucks just as my life decisions

I hate my final project.

I even think I hate biology. I wish I'd chosen medicine or engineering or something like that, which sounds really cool when people see you on the street and say, "Look, there goes the doctor, the engineer, or the lawyer." I never thought I'd hate my own career, and that says a lot. Screw the administration, but above all, screw me for being such a shit. This wouldn't be happening if I had more willpower.

Or whatever...

ɱιɳιɳҽϝαɾισυʂ ԃαɳɠҽɾ

I feel threatened again.

The stoats seem to have left.

At least for now.

I have to break down the walls again to see if there aren't any left.

It's not very reassuring, but the first radar I used to find their hiding places seemed very promising. Of course, it's not peak breeding season. So I have to keep an eye out in case there's an overpopulation.

I'll try to draw something.

You know very well that's not what you should be doing.

Give up.

It's just me. I often feel betrayed by the world. It's pointless; the world owes me nothing.

(2)1(1)_11(2)-(2)1(1)-(3)1-11(1)1's memory turns to dust.

Because life is not for the restless

But what do you do when you can't trust your family to confide in you?

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 🥞 ／ ⋆ ۪

It's something I've been thinking about. It all started with a rather dark accident involving a family member, which involved a confession and the typical "we're your family, you should have told us sooner, and we were going to help you" speech. But... to what extent is that true?

I can't tell mother about my problems with the final project, about how I don't feel safe or comfortable around her, or about that. When I told her the first time I failed an exam... Ugh, I remember it clearly now. 

It was a bright afternoon. Everyone seemed to be going about their normal lives. I was already walking home from school, head down. I knew my mother's reaction to the news would be one of displeasure. I remember it was the fifth floor, creaky wooden floors, and windows with many dark, barred windows. The sun filtered through all that foliage. I was walking very slowly. I went inside. "How did your exam go, son?" First I whispered that I got an 8/10.

†

"How much?"

††

"8/10."

††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

"Ỳ̴̳̠o̷̭̎̒u̴̼̔͛'̷̱̿͗r̵̡̐̄ē̵̮̓ ̷̙͛̉n̸̨͐o̶̡̊̅t̵̖̲͆̀ ̴̟͉̊͑l̷̪̓͘ḙ̶͇͠a̷͓̩̍͘v̵̖̪̑͝í̵̫n̷͍͔̈́̋ḡ̶̘ ̷̛̖̾t̵̻̱̐͌h̶̙͕̓ĩ̷̧͇s̸̰͂ ̴̏̕͜r̶̟͋̂o̵̹͆̿ỏ̶̭̊m̴̖̅̚ ̷̧̣̚͠a̴̯͆ǧ̶͖ȧ̸͔̼i̷̱͆͜n̷̪̐ͅ ̶͉̥͗u̷͕̝̍͝n̶̦͛̊t̶͖̏ị̵̦͆̕l̴̮̆ ̷̢͈́̅y̶̢̓̓o̸͕͊́û̸̞̈́'̷̬͎͛̃v̴̜͍̓̀ẻ̵̫̝ ̶̣̅̆s̷̤͑ṱ̸̱̂ụ̷͕̎d̸͈͎̎i̸͓͝e̸̜̎̄d̵̜͊ ̴̝̿̈́ĕ̷͈̜͐v̷̼̈e̴̼̚r̶͓͉̔̃y̸̜̆̂ţ̴̦́͊h̶͎̺̒̂i̸͙̽̔ñ̵̤̞͊g̶̝̀"

°˖➴

    °˖➴

            °˖➴

                         °˖➴

                                      °˖➴

                                               °˖➴

                                                              °˖➴

                                                                                °˖➴

                                                                                             °˖➴

Although I wasn't allowed to leave the house anywhere anyway.

˙𐃷˙

⤶

⤶

⤶

⤶

⤶

⤶

I can't tell her about it.

I get discouraged very easily. I was supposed to be trying to do another drawing to pick up some of the crap I do. Everything I do is crap. Why draw protists? Nobody's interested. It's fatalistic because there were some people who were interested. The negativity in this moment is just too strong, and I'm having trouble seeing the good things in the whole situation.

I ended up aggressively scribbling on the sketch and cursing in an unintelligible language. The drawing is ruined. And I even bought a new sketchbook for a new phase, but I've only gone back a few pages to desolate spots again.

My ribs are cold. It might be the weather. But it's also because I need warmth. I want to sleep forever again. I'm not going to try to hide the seriousness of that thought with metaphors. It's what I feel, I'm sorry.

I hate when I get discouraged. I start yawning, I fall asleep in my chair, and another day lost for whatever it was I was going to do. I don't think the Protista project went to shit in the most pathetic way. Therefore, I really don't have anything left. I'm not making any progress writing any books; all the ideas seem too big for me right away. Lots of enthusiasm, little effort. Maybe the project was a bit pointless. It contributed something, but it wasn't going to give me anything to live on.

I hate this feeling. It makes me want to go to sleep, but that means mother will find out, and she might either take it well or yell at me because that means wasting time I could dedicate to the final project. And she doesn't even know that that's gone to shit too. I don't even think I'm going to get my degree. And that doesn't depend on any religion or prayer. It's sadly endearing to see mother praying loudly in church for my final project to go through, but that doesn't depend on some higher religious entity; it depends on the fact that my mood is very unstable, lost in my imagination, and eventually tired of living only to suffer.

Hey, can I tell you something crazy? I want to talk to girl M again. It must have been six months since I cut off all contact with her. I've concluded that I'm the asshole. I didn't even have the guts to tell her I liked her a little. Therefore, all my interpretations of her were wrong. There was no reason for her to see me any other way. Anyway, seeing how pathetic I am, I'm not really worth it. But the crazy thing is, I feel like sending her a reel without context and... wait, what? Salvation?

What about (2)1(1)_11(2)-(2)1(1)-(3)1-11(1)1? It doesn't matter anymore. She became a wall to talk to, so I don't even speak to her anymore. I don't even know how I ever gave so much importance to someone who, despite making me feel seen and understood, then treated me worse than everyone else, like an NPC to be ignored for weeks. The dreaded ghosting—I understand not wanting to react for a day or two. But...

But I don't have the energy or the right to say more.

I think tomorrow will be one of the worst days of my life. I'm afraid of tomorrow, specifically the morning of that moment. It could weigh heavily on me, it depends. Mother is giving me a threatening look; I feel nervous. I stare at the computer. I want my own room. But that's impossible. I don't want to open my Wikimedia Commons; it reminds me of the little glory I thought I had. The air is threatening. I can't take it anymore. Shame—shame is what I should feel! I'm the ultimate failure and the ultimate fraud! Who the hell cares anymore what expectations I might have created when I was a kid? There are thousands better than me, what I do is irrelevant, and there will be no one left when I fall more than once! So what's the big goal?

Hey, what do you think? Should I send her something by accident? Why do I want to do that? Do I still want to find that absolute trust in someone?

I think I miss the freedom I had with dad. But it's a fact that he also asked about how I was going to finish my degree, about the master's programs I should pursue. That makes me feel stupid because, damn, at this age many have already achieved more. I'm still just a kept man, and that's part of the problem. Independence? I long for it, but I know it's not easy, and that already tires my mind. I'd say it tires me because I'm more of a creative person, but the truth is I'm not someone who spends all their time drawing; at most, I always watch anime. So I'm useless.

Hmmm, what else can I say?

I slouch a lot when I'm discouraged.

I still get cold in my ribs. Ah, that feeling that I should be doing more. Much more. I'm sorry, Dad.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry dad has to deal with someone like that. I... you don't deserve a son like me, you deserve someone more normal and capable. Someone you can truly call "yes, that's my son."

(っ- ‸ - ς)

̷D̷̷e̷̷f̷̷e̷a̷̷t̷̷e̷̷d̷ ̷b̷̷y̷ ̷t̷̷h̷̷e̷ ̷s̷̷y̷̷s̷̷t̷̷e̷̷m̷?

Although I try to cope by writing something about biodiversity or attempting a new illustration, it seems pointless.

I'll start working on my final project. I used to neglect it, but now, even if it's just once a week, I dedicate time to writing more of it. I'm almost finished. There's not much point in it, nor much motivation to solve any critical problems. And I don't have anyone's support (I don't think such a bleak, not to mention simplistic, piece of work deserves support).

Even so, writing even just one more paragraph gives me a little peace. Why? Because in the end, I succumbed to the "system." It sounds romantic to say "I let myself be defeated by the system," but thinking about it, there has always been a system, and it's not that I can't escape it, it's simply that I can't survive outside of it. I would need a lot of resources, along with better skills and psychoplasticity, to break free from the system, if you can put it that way.

The final project is the mandatory key and the final requirement for obtaining my degree in biology. Nothing else will give me that, not even illustrations. It's sad to say it like this, but it's the truth. It's kind of devastating. But my health isn't great, and next week I'll be able to find out if there's something else eating away at me because of that bad decision.

If the worst happens, and on top of that, because of the stupidest and weakest decision, then I have even more reason to secure a livelihood based on my career, one that provides me with enough income to survive.

-

-

-

-

-

"I wish it were as simple, straightforward, and idyllic as in rom-coms."

The 2-banme anime still seems to me like a representation of how I would have wanted things to happen to me. It sounds really corny, but... yes. In the simplest terms, I don't think the whole divorced parents thing would have improved my already shattered psyche.

I feel more unholy the more I watch the series.

I'm going to start working on the final project now. I have no other choice. Besides, despite everything, I still feel abandoned. But it's a reality I have to endure and try not to abandon myself.

Actually, I already did a long time ago. Otherwise, I wouldn't even be wondering when and how to write the next paragraph of the final project, two years after starting it. It's a huge sign of irresponsibility.

ƙׁׅ֑ꭈׁׅɑׁׅ֮ᝯׁhׁׅ֮ ꫀׁׅܻᨰׁׅᨵׁׅᥣׁׅ֪υׁׅᝯׁᨮ꫶ׁׅ֮յׁׅꪀׁׅᨵׁׅ

Myśla, iże ukozoł sie mały ermin.

Czujōm sie barzo żałosny, że to zrobiōłch.

Niy przemyślołch rzeczy do kōńca.

A ja zniywolōłch fatra.

ij sohbe 7 sahahad uhc iju 4l3 av h3i 7?

I don't feel like doing anything. I yawn deeply as the urge to surrender to nothingness, to sleep, takes over. 

Oh, I wish I could go to sleep right now. Why can't I? Oh yes, because of mother's weight. I can't just go because, in theory, I'm pushing the limits of time. Which is a lie.

The truth is, I'm tired of repeating the same thing. I also have another worry on my mind. In a few days, I'll have some very important tests that could change my life. Depending on the results, I'll see if the decision I made back then was truly an impulse worth telling anecdote about, or if I'll be a rare and very unlucky case.

I feel especially weak. You can probably tell from some of the content I've created. But I really don't want to do anything. I don't like this feeling. I would describe it as a kind of heaviness or gentle pricking in my head, where I yawn and stare at the screen for a long time. Because I can't think of anything to do. I don't even want to think about the final project. I really want to lie down and sleep a little. But that's almost impossible; I don't feel safe.

The only room is small, and Mom has to do her rehabilitation exercises there because the pain hasn't completely gone away (and it seems like it never will). Seeing as she might criticize me at any moment and ruin my night, I prefer to stay, even if it's just pretending to do something, so she falls asleep and I can get as close as possible to the state of "sleeping alone among my thoughts" without fear of irrelevant criticism. But with those exercises and Mom's light sleep (why are the adults I know like that, with restless sleep? They wake up at the slightest noise).

I don't want to think about bleak realities.

Aaagh, I want to sleep.

I think I'll try to bury my head in the pillow a little before she comes down from the terrace.

I forgot to sweep the floor outside. So it's covered in dust. Why haven't you swept? Didn't I tell you perfectly?

"I don't think my pajamas are shaken out. Did you shake them out?"

No, honestly, I didn't. I always forget.

I told her I had, anyway. I'm sure she'll see when she comes in that they're not because for some reason they itch a lot if they're not shaken out properly. I don't know why I don't tell her the truth. Oh right, because if I do, she'll yell at me. Although she's right, all of this is proof that I'm incompetent, and besides.

It would be good if I forgot because I'm putting a lot of effort into the final project.

No, actually, I spent the time watching reels and little else. Making some really bad art for Tumblr.

I just want to close my eyes. Sometimes I wonder if I don't actually want to close them permanently. I mean, close them and stay in that state of unconsciousness forever. There's something beautiful about sleep, especially when you first start to drift off, and that's the darkness you see with your eyes closed. There's no color, but that's what's beautiful about it. The absence of color.

There are no thoughts. And if there are, well, in my case, I can sleep and watch them fade away. And I hope I can continue to do that. A future or reality with insomnia or something similar would terrify me; I couldn't live. How would I escape reality in that case?

I'm glancing at this text with my hand on my forehead. Sleepiness seems to be intensifying. I want to go to bed and retreat into the darkness. But I can't; Mother is still active. I thought writing something would revive me. But it seems I really don't want to keep writing.

I tried reading an article from another organization to make a new drawing, but... now I find it so tedious to read and look at the diagrams and micrographs. Well, the same thing that happens to me with everything. Procrastination, and as soon as things seem to get too complicated, I give up despite the terrible consequences. Like what's happening with my final project; I'm sure that won't end well.

My desire to keep drawing is dead... I won't say "for now" because I'm not sure when I'll pick it up again, or if I'll even pick it up again. Because... I don't know. I can't find the desire or the inspiration, so... I can say that I've lost something that kept me awake.

I wish I could sleep without guilt.

And remain embraced by the darkness of a very low consciousness.

To feel comfortable forever.

While I distantly listen to arguments that will no longer interest me.

Because I would have become an inanimate entity a long time ago.

I think I lost something prematurely

Hey

How are you?

(⌒.−)＝★

I don't know you, but in retrospect, this post comes way after this one.

🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🪼⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

I'm listening to a liminal music playlist, want to listen to it too? I'll leave the link here.

The truth is that now I really think I'm the complete failure.

I haven't gotten back to the protist illustration project yet. I haven't really gotten back to my final project either. Well, I have, with a little help that depends on silicon. I haven't felt like finishing that final project for quite some time now. I don't think it's about fear of failing anymore. I think it's simply a desire to embrace uncertainty.

                                                                                            .[

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎

But this post isn't about that.

Before continuing, I think I'll try to be cryptic in the following text. Because it's about something I've lost, and it's irretrievable. And I think I lost it too soon. I won't deny it was a good experience. But I was carrying wolves, or rather, stoats, likely stoats. Those creatures can't be seen in the deep snow. But they're always lurking. It's a matter of having to fence off the house well in the center so they don't get too close, although with the little protection a fence can offer, one or two can always get in. The secret of evolution lies within the house.

May be careful dear reader. T̸̢̨̛͉̻̗͖̳̜̼̻̦̼̹̜͚̩̺͉̦͖͙͉̣͕̩̖͔̪̫̒̏̄͐͋̎̉̑͌̒̀̈́̌̌͛́̂̋̽́͑̾͋̑͐̂̏̈̕͘͜͝͝h̵̛̤̺͖͉͑̑͒͛̋͛̀̆̊̈́͒̋̋͌̓̒́͛̄̊̊̊̒̂̈́̂͒͒̚͘͝e̴̢̛̜̝̲̩̭̟̞̥͙͕̩̞͓͖̼̣͑̈͊̓̂̓̃́̆̌̔̀͂̆̔̋͑̑͂̈́͒̿͒͒̒͌̈́́̉̓͗͂͒͑̚͘͘͠͠͝y̸̢̧̻͚̤͖͍͓͍̝̺̫̬͖̤͉̻̘̹͈̬̲̪̣͖̼͖̼̠̜͓͍͕̫̜̼̜̆̓̊͜͠'̴̡̝̥̜̪͈̗̟̎̀͋̓r̷̨̡̫͍̜̝̘̣̩̳̯̘͇̩̞͍̀̔̆̽́̆̈́̿̎̿̓̏̀̐́͗͆̍͊͒͛̈́̈̚̚͘̕̕̚͝ë̵̛̻̫́̈͛ ̶̨̡̡̧̻̱̜̺͎͔̠̥̩̦̰̫̲̮̭͚̞̫͉̣͔̘͙͓̹̲͖̘̙͕̫̰̣̦̜́̄̑͋̽̃͌̆͂̀͂̑̿̐̑̋̕ẃ̴̙̠̦͙̤͉̖̪̄̐̈̆͆̂́̎̔̓͐́͊̿̂́͐̂̈́̈̈́̈́̓͑̎̽̏͌̆͘͘͘͜͝͝ͅa̶̡̡̨͍͔͖͎͚̣̫̘̹͙̩̰̩̝̐̉͂̌̍͛̀̌̊̆̇̓̒͆̓̅̀̾́͛̒̆͋̆̋͆͐̐͘̚̚̕͘͜ţ̵̡̢̛̪͓̼͉͕̤͓̳͕̩̟̻͙̺̠͔̼͔̲͉̦̬̘̘̥͇̳̯̻̮̥̺̿ç̵̛̖̼͖̭̐̀͐͂̓̎̓͋́́́̚̚͝h̸̡̨̧̛̛͔̩̖̰̖̪͓̽̓̈̇͒̂͊̌̔͋̀̎̀͑̄͛͂̌̃̊̆̋́͑̃́̃͐̊͐̄̏̽͘̕̕̚͝͝į̷̡͇͎̪̬̫̩̰̹̗͈̳̼͔͔̞̗̱̹͈͓̤̤̞̜̖̜͎̺͎͉͙̲͕͓̖̺͓͊̆͋͐͆̊̒̍̏̅̈́̋͜ͅn̷̨̨̗͎̥̼̩̺͕͍̭̳̬͕̰̫̱̟͕̘̠̙͔̦̖̭̼̥͍̝̤̞̻̠͈̟͛̇̈́̅͋͒͊̔͛̾̀͒̒͘͜ͅͅg̸̢̡̡̛̪͕̱̝̯̠̱̞̱̳͙̰͉͓̥̫̥̓̅̒̐̿̑͒̈͌̒ͅ ̵̡̡̨̢̘̜̥̻̪̼̝̣̦̦͎̥͔̖̳̞̝͇̖̝͎͔͉̃͑̄͐̿̀̅̔́̄̉̓̆̔̑̇̏̿̀̃̍͌͊́̐̀̈̉̈̅͂̽̽̕͜ÿ̴̨̢̧̨̛̦̖̦͎̖̱̜̼͈͇̪̤̠̤͎̙̘͍̘͈̜̊̌̊̐̄̋̓̒̍̆̈́͐͘͜ͅȍ̸̢̼̪̹̬̞̭̥̌́̉͛̉̒̅̀̅̐̈͐̓͗͛̇̋̅̂̀̈͊͌̀̊̇̈́̿̍͂̂̿̎͂̅͝͠͝u̶̧̻̺͍̖̱̦͎̝͔̔̌͋̆̄̐̈́̉͐̆̔̔͐͋̒̌̋͊̿̒̄̐̉̽͒͌̑̃̽̓̓̐̈́͆͘͜͝͝͝͝ͅ

Everyone harbors one. And everyone develops it eventually, some more diligently, others simply forget. I was eager to see the element's evolution in action, to accelerate the growing gradient that was already consuming the tissues. And indeed, the gradient was quite rapid. It wasn't the most complete. It didn't feel as it should have, I think. But it wasn't disastrous either. However, the stoats are prowling, and I don't know if they're inside the house. Sometimes I hear them; they're not roars, just footsteps, sometimes above, sometimes in front of the house, in front of the bushes with jet-black branches. I tell myself it's imaginary. I really hope so. If not, I'll have to get a weapon to get rid of them.

Setting traps won't work because it'll be impossible; the stoats I'm talking about don't fall for traps. And not all of them are caught by gunfire; some build nests so complex they can destroy an entire house, and those are the ones I'm particularly afraid of. I have to check for a stoat infestation in a few weeks, assuming I don't find any obvious signs of damage, like a broken window, holes in the walls, roof, or front of the house, or if I find traces of urine in the corners, which is what worries me most.

I don't think k44levy would have minded. She's the other key figure in this. It's also the one who helped me understand the mystery of evolution in the intrinsic sense of the human being as an individual within a population, the mystery of how the human species came to expand with so many phenotypes. It seemed like a mystery finally solved, but it seems I haven't managed to solve the other mysteries. The ones I've talked about so much in other posts. The ones I've complained about so much, and will probably continue to complain about.

DOTkamina cannot yet be openly revealed to the world. By this I mean that I can't show it to anyone I trust, because I don't have anyone I can absolutely trust. Even so, I do plan to pay homage to k44levy in some illustration. Regardless of whether it unknowingly betrays me and has left ermines hidden beneath the wood.

I don't know if I'm proud of having learned the single-individual secret of evolution. Because I don't think it can be repeated again in a more transcendental way. It has brought me more worries than joys. Although it does vaguely remind me of k44levy. And that's despite the fact that it did it as part of a contract, a contract with the octopus. I don't know what they call it where you are, but it's a very powerful entity. I wouldn't say evil, since it has no morals, nor compassion. But it's definitely a human creation. Everyone responds to the octopus eventually, and they must do so with what they have. K44levy did so while also helping me discover this so-called secret.

And then a goodbye with no real intention of seeing each other again, since we both knew the contract we were entering into. 

I hear the stoats again. But it seems they're not physically there. I hope I stop hearing the sounds. Otherwise, I won't be able to sleep.

I'll try to write a less cryptic post about what's been happening to me this month. But don't expect anything legendary.

Back in action... actually a lie

Why do I say it's a lie? Well, because I'm not so sure if I'm going to continue with anything else. Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I mean, I've kind of run out of energy (just a little?) to keep illustrating, or to do anything else for that matter. The anxiety surrounding the final project is really draining me, but at least I was able to make some progress on a process I needed to formalize the meeting times with my supervising professor. It's a document that had me on tenterhooks because it's necessary to move forward with the final project... and I'd already taken longer than expected to get it.

┬┴┬┴┤(･_ ├┬┴┬┴

The final project isn't finished, but it's almost done. I still need to create illustrations of the samples I used (I hope I don't get canceled for that since I forgot to use scales) and correct poorly written or nonsensical paragraphs. Do I have to talk to the external supervisor I've been ghosting because I haven't made any progress? I really wouldn't want to get to that point and have a conflict of interest ("yeah, but I thought I'd dropped out, so I'm not giving any authorization for that crap"). My ideal solution is simply to give a decent defense, get a decent grade, and tell them all to go to hell. Let them keep the data to publish in whatever journal they want. I want my degree and nothing more.

Why? To enter the workforce more firmly, of course. 

Okay, no, 

that's not the reason, get over it.

The main reason is to stop feeling guilty about my own laziness, to repay some of my debt to my parents. And that's it. Ultimately, I don't even care if I end up working as a biologist. I think it's more of a resignation.

I'd like to reflect on the fact that I'm not really alone (?). Mother, who owns the house. I've already mentioned my dynamic with her quite a bit, so I won't repeat myself in this post. Father, who always sends me messages in bottles with a predictable pattern. Part of my uncertainty about visiting him is whether he'll really be the same father I had to say goodbye to that morning. I finally have a college friend I still talk to (I'll call him "Individual S"), mainly in terms of sending memes and Instagram reels. He's arguably the closest thing I've had to a friend. But I still have my lingering doubts. That's how distrustful I am. Of course, he's told me personal things, and I appreciate that he cares about me. It would be ungrateful to diminish or ignore that. In fact, if it weren't for him, I might even be more overwhelmed.

(2)1(1)_11(2)-(2)1(1)-(3)1-11(1)1 reappeared, but it's not the same. It feels like talking to an alternate of The Mandela Catalogue. In the sense that she's not the same person I met during that trip. I was hoping we'd have a genuine friendship, but it doesn't seem normal to ghost me for days and then write back like nothing happened. Ignoring the fact that I would have liked to be with her, I don't think it's ideal behavior, not even for a friendship. So I've decided not to invest so much energy in replying, swallowing my desire to tell her things. I can do this with individual S, but I don't feel that much trust yet, and anyway, I have a primal goal of establishing trust and honesty with a woman. Typical romantic love, y' know.

However, I think I'm too unstable for that. Maybe for a long time. Maybe forever. So I'm preparing myself for a solitary life. With its pros and its major cons. I'm not the healthiest or the most attractive person. So I don't think people will feel sorry for me much when I'm falling apart.

This gives me some motivation to see if I can manage to make those pending corrections to my Giardia illustration. "Do the best I can" for the Protista Project. That's something I can't abandon for a moment, just like my final project. I have to keep both things going.