So I Guess That I Got Rejected By My Obsession, Looks Like I Will Have To Keep Looking For A Yandere

Obsessions. Quite interesting, are they not? In some ways it can be linked to ideology where you believe in an idealized version of someone. I am gonna talk about how I am feeling, no need to rationalize it. My obsession is my life. I cannot focus on anything else. The obsession emits such a divine feeling, which is pure and free from all possible contortions. Yet, every inch of this obsession is corrupt and depraved, but I fucking live for it. "How can the right thing be so wrong?" As they say, but also: "How can the wrong thing be so right?" I want to be locked in a room with my obsession as I break down in front of her and confess how much I crave her every moment of the day and also confess all the depraved things I have gone through to get more information about her. Insanity can be a light that provides guidance. Insanity is the one thing that I know never goes away. My love for insanity rivals the love I feel for my obsession. I have been referred to as a "maniac" by my doctor because my obsession went too far. I am like a drug addict.

Tw: NSFW

On the surface it may seem like I am shy and collected, but there is also this underlying desire to dominate someone sexually. Once I get consent and know someone well enough, I will alter the way I sexually interact with them. First I will learn all the kinks and weaknesses of the partner, then I will bring them close to the edge of climax and deny them climax in the last moment until they beg me for release. I like teasing people and seeing them beg. I also have quite the obsession with women's anatomy including the clitoris. I could perhaps gently massage it with the palm of my hands while fingering her vagina to satisfy her.

This has to pass

Okay so can we all agree that Suzuya Juuzou and Bachira Meguru would be besties 🤍🖤

I love them they are my sons I love them I will protect them for the rest of my goddamn life and beyond the grave I will love them I love them those are my sons I carried them in my very womb

New to Tumblr, but I figured that I might fit in somewhere here

I bid my greetings to everyone reading this journal entry. I have not done one of these in a while. I feel hopeful because the day that I will take hormones is coming closer and closer. Soon I will alleviate my dysphoria and live as who I truly am. I am on sick leave now due to all the issues I mentioned. I do not know what to say - I just need to alleviate the dysphoria sooner.  I know that it will not solve everything. I feel lonely because I am not able to connect with people on a deep level and I have terrible social skills. Heck, my social skills are so terrible that writing these journals and sharing them with people from my school does not feel embarrassing in the slightest. The only things I cannot say are illegal stuff. An example of something that is illegal is murder. Obviously I am not gonna write in the journal that I murdered someone if I really did do it. No, but I have not done it. Anyways, I still cannot get my mind off of something which I mentioned earlier. That mysterious thing which drives me forward. The mysterious thing is further away than ever before, but oh so close. I think that it is best to leave everything behind and return into my shell where no one can see, hear, or hurt me. I am safe in my house, right? Ofc I am, why would I not be? It is only when I step outside that those sc(k)ary people look at me and laugh, then they say something to their friends and both of them look behind themselves and laugh. They all laugh at me, I am just a joke to them. The only thing left to do is to run away forever and never return. I know, maybe in the future I can upload my mind into a computer and play Minecraft all day. Minecraft is a game where no one bothers you and if they bother you, THEN YOU FUCKING KILL THEM. Minecraft is a game where I am safe and where there are no rules to put me in danger. Minecraft is a place where nostalgia rules. No, no no no! The milk is not in the bag, IT IS NOT IN THE BAG, SHUT UP! The milk is my soul and the bag is my computer - a world waiting to be explored and a world where no one judges you. I am addicted to gaming, I am addicted to the internet, I am nihilistic, I am depressed, blah blah blah; you get it. I WANT MY ESTROGEN, GIVE ME HORMONES! Anyways, I am getting off-topic. I am basically screwed, the end.

I am definitely unlovable. I am just too insane and weird for anyone to relate to me or like me. I must accept this reality in order to continue living a life of loneliness, but a life without love is no life at all...I have no idea what to do.

Tw: unhinged break down and vent with mentions of suicide

I bid my greetings to everyone reading this journal entry. There was a situation with a friend which was a bit difficult. I felt like I wanted to help, but I was unable to. Now onto a different topic: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!! It is strange that that that that's djjkcodbns ytsbat I cannot CANNOT I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO EXPLAIN THIS! My mind is a mess, everything is unclear…I just want to prove to myself that I am wanted here in this world, but I do not know if I really am wanted. Even if I am NO NO NO, I won't say that! I am freaking out, I heard voices in my head a few weeks ago and I had to take new meds. It was terrifying and annoying, there was screaming and squealing as well and it felt like my mind was streaming like a waterfall. I am on sick leave until May, so don't expect to see me in school. Yk what, I will be honest. Every Time I have one of these squishes (which are the desire for queer platonic relationships). I have felt this for around 5 people so far and all of them were extremely far and unavailable. One was an online friend who ended up telling me to kms for defending furries, another was someone in our school who was probably the worst person imaginable to have a squish on, another was an online friend who literally admitted to being a sociopath and I still continued being close with the person, then there was someone else who prefers solitude and only sees all friendships as temporary, and then finally it is the person I have this squish on now, who does not really care about anyone beyond the usual friendships. All this combined could point towards me never being able to find someone, which means that I simply am not wanted. The logical conclusion of something not being wanted is for it to be thrown away. Being thrown away means basically dying…wait, it is dying, I should kill myself. But wait, people care about me even if it is not in that way. This is good, this means that I am still wanted in some way, so I should not kill myself. The voices are wrong, the Goddess communicating with me telepathically called Luna is wrong. Wait a minute, can't I want myself? That way someone always wants me, which increases my chance of survival. In practice this would mean that I am in a relationship with myself. Since I am a person with so many different personalities, it is almost as if I am multiple different people. It is logical, really, no one wanted the cake, so that leaves all the cake for me, no one wanted to work with me in the group project so I worked by myself, no one picked me for their team so I picked myself for my own team. Yes, that's it! The solution to all my problems. This was what the poem meant, the poem of me reaching the end of the tunnel and seeing light, maybe I am my own light. But then I would be autoplatonic meaning that I can have a platonic relationship with myself. I will try this out. No, I already did and it did not work…back to suicide? Idk, I do not want to be in that stinky ward again. Does that mean that I’d better succeed in killing myself? Idk…let's try to live for now so there is a 0% chance of me ending up in that ward.

T_T

People seriously underestimate the long term effects of constant loneliness

"why are you so weird?" Idk, maybe because being completely isolated while growing up has destroyed my brain and now I'm nothing more than a human-mimicking creature that bases all of my actions on what I think is normal human behavior rather than just doing things naturally

Once, there was a group of humans born, from birth they were bitten by a thorn. They bore the cross, the cross of their demise, of their death they fantasize. The village gathered to witness the journey into the clouds, the entropy came in mounds. Shackled by all, but shackled by naught, they wanted to bleed and they made it so, it's as if they were made to go