Just sharing some overall stats from my 750words last month. I didn’t complete the One Month Challenge, and I’ve already failed it for this month, but I’ll do better next month. Statistics Average time to 750 words: 23 minutes Average word speed: 31/min 18 days completed of the 23 days started 15,561 total words Word Cloud
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I posted to nicolysis.net
March words
http://www.nicolysis.net/2011/04/march-words/
April 7 2011, 1:27pm | Comments »
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I posted to nicolysis.net
Sweet ‘n sour sauce isn’t sour
http://www.nicolysis.net/2010/01/sweet-n-sour-sauce-isnt-sour/
So there are people I care deeply about. I don’t know, caring must be some strange compulsion of mine – I just can’t help it. Most of the time I wish I didn’t care about these people. I mean, I don’t want to care, especially because most of these people are only acquaintances who I imagine wouldn’t try to give two shits about me. Maybe. I’ve been surprised in the past. Then again, I’ve also been disappointed. I care about how he feels. I’m concerned for his safety and mental health. I don’t want him to feel sad or alone. And I want him to understand that I care that much. But I don’t, because I have no right to. We aren’t that close. I don’t even know if we’re friends. This makes me out to be a total creep. And he doesn’t care about me – he wouldn’t care that I care. The fact that I want him to be happy means nothing to him. Only, I don’t know that, and I’m too scared to find out. Because that would leave me in too vulnerable a state. Not to mention, it may turn out that I care a great deal more than I thought, which may very well break my damn heart. Because even though I care about him, I don’t trust him. I don’t think I can trust anyone other than the few that I do already. For the record, “he” is no specific person. “He” is everyone. All this trouble, and it’s not even a romantic sentiment. At least I don’t think it is – if it were, would I know? Anyway, I imagine I’ll never find out. I think I’ve already resigned myself to living and dying alone. And it’s not that I don’t mind – in fact, I have this foreboding sense of despair whenever I think about my future. I really hate to be so melodramatic. This makes me remember the last time I tried to “open” myself up. Only disaster. Three weeks, I almost couldn’t function: I literally felt my eyes drooping. When I relaxed my face muscles, they formed a frown. I couldn’t walk upright, because my chest felt heavy; I was dragging my heart across the floor. People around me noticed something was wrong – I don’t think I cared enough to try and hide it. I was grateful that no one really pushed the issue. Even after this great winter break, I harbor no new hope for future relationships (or current and developing ones, for that matter). I don’t expect much out of anything. The worst part is, I think I’m trying to prevent any more. It helps me cut down on people to care about. But damn people have to be so nice. Which creates a completely different problem. For the past couple years, I’ve noticed a growing lack of sympathy. It’s not entirely unexpected, especially since for the most part this concerns people I don’t know personally. I don’t want to talk about it too much. And it’s not even out of shame for not caring. Actually, I don’t really know what. How do I explain something to paper? There’s not even a need for me to. I don’t know what kind of person I am. I just know that I’m not sad. I’m not an idealist. I’m not expecting any sort of relief by making this public. I certainly don’t expect any comfort from whatever anyone has to say, because I’m not looking for comfort. I just need for people to understand me a little better. It may be a little bleak, but I’m alright with all of this. Some wouldn’t accept it, but I just want you to know that even though a lot of times I feel helpless, alone, and unfulfilled, I have enough moments of fun, happiness, rainbows, and sunshine out my ass to sustain my will to live and enjoy living.
January 17 2010, 6:52pm | Comments »
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I posted to nicolysis.net
You know how this feels.
http://www.nicolysis.net/2009/10/you-know-how-this-feels/
I really hate writing. I didn’t always, but for the past few years I’ve noticed through my writing how self-absorbed, narcissistic, and insecure I am. It really makes me hate myself. But really, I think everyone is this way, but I really hate noticing it. For example, it’s really difficult for me not to talk about myself. It just proves how personally I take everything – and I mean everything. It can’t be healthy. I’m a terrible writer, but there was a time when I thought I was the best thing ever. I’m really grateful for high school: if there’s anything I learned from English it’s how pretentious I am. The reality is, I don’t know how to organize my thoughts and have it make sense to anyone but myself. Again, this is just a reflection of how self-serving I am. I tend to give up really quickly, or want to start over all the time. It has a lot to do with why I never update anymore. Another part is because I know that no one is going to want to read the boring shit that never really happens. Everything I have to say whenever I feel like writing is usually self-loathing (no one wants to read that), trivial enough to post in 140 characters or less (so I do exactly that), or more effort to write about than it’s really worth (I give up half-way). Anyone who knows me knows how terribly lazy I am, and I have such a difficult time getting across what I want to say. There’s really no sequence. It’s little more than a rant, and I want to do more than that, but rarely do. That said, I’m not going to finish this post. I had more to say, but I never finish what I mean to say. I really, really hate writing. Please don’t respond. I always get over it. —————- Now playing: The Strokes – 12:51 via FoxyTunes
October 18 2009, 3:50pm | Comments »
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