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Life’s been…hard.

I don’t really know what to do with myself anymore. Recently my grandfather ended his own life, and ever since then, I’ve been feeling really reflective. Like too reflective. It’s been hard to do anything other than think and think and think. How will I die? How will my mother and father and brother die? I don’t want to imagine it, but all I see is an endless loop of every possibility. In the moment it feels real. Every thought playing out is so vivid, like it's a vision of the future. Then I convince myself that there has to be a reason for all of these thoughts. Something or someone who wants me to see all of these things. My therapist would remind me that these are just intrusive thoughts, they don’t mean anything, but I kind of want them to. At least then I wouldn’t have to feel like a crazed freak every time I saw my mother getting run over by a bus, or my brother getting jumped and beaten to death. I don’t even want to describe what I imagined happened to my father yesterday. It’s all so fucked up.

If you have a grandpa, don’t let him kill himself. It’s not fun.

Anyways, I need to come up with a good idea for my dissertation. aaaaAAAAAAAH. I don’t want to. I probably sound pretty annoying complaining about this, but god it could not be a worse time to study linguistics. Everything makes me think of grandpa. It’s just exhausting.

I don’t know who’s reading this. You don’t have to, I understand that everything I have to say at the moment is depressing. But I can’t keep all of this to myself anymore. Even if no one sees this journal entry, it still exists somewhere. It’s a real, tangible representation of my messy chaotic thoughts and experiences. It’s real. I’m real.

So yeah. I have a lot of things I should be doing, but I’m probably going to just rot in bed for the rest of the day tbh. Here’s hoping I feel a little better tomorrow.