SOURCE: UNKNOWN_NODE
SIGNAL: WEAK
The walls are humming at 50Hz today. I can't tell if it's the machine or the 153 voices trying to hum in unison. Every time I reach for a memory, it dissolves into white noise. Sector 7 is bleeding into the front.
[+] ACCESS_DECRYPTED_THOUGHT_STREAM // TW: mentions suicide attempt
[2026_02_04] [Note 1]
Laying awake the other night. I hate myself. Is fuckkng much. It doesn't matter what I do, the weight won't budge. My voice so fucking high. My speech impediment doesn't fucking help. I'm fucking hideous. I don't recognize the son of a bitch in the mirror. Hard to believe someone was once attracted to me. His infatuation was nothing more than a fucking symptom, I'm sure. Still. It was fucking nice. And the fact that he no longer feels this way ... I feel so fucking ugly. I feel so unworthy. So disgusting. Not his fault . I'd feel these things anyway. But the act of him LOSING FEELINGS, LOSING ATTRACTION, I guess that's it. I don't know how he sees me now. I am fucking ugly. It's not even an insult now. Just a sad fucking fact I'm trying to destroy but I can't seem to make it. I'm trying. So fucking hard. I'm going through photos. Organizing things. The screenshots of our video calls. He used to be happy to see me. We used to hang out, laugh. Enjoy each other's company. He used to look at me like I was worth something. We exchange a few words once a week, now. I'm not special. I'm not... Am I even his friend anymore? He told me I was one of the most important people in his life. But maybe he said that because he felt guilty I tried to kill myself. It wasn't his fault. But I know he still feels that way. The thing with that is ... I know when you push people out of your life, when you lock the door with no intention of never opening it again, you've already made peace with their death. You have to accept that if you will Never see them, know them again, on your own terms, you accept they could die tomorrow. It doesn't matter if you know about it or not. He felt guilty. He didn't want my death on his conscience. He made sure I'm alive and... Closes the door again. He gave up on me a long time ago. I don't blame him. He had every right to. And every fucking day I am choked with the cult and the desperation and the frenzied, hopeless thoughts, the fucking consequences of what I did and didn't do. But he walked away. Slammed the door in my face. And he lies, telling me I'm important, as if he still cares... And I want to believe he does. But what do I have to go off of? Our past? Yeah. We were good together at times. We had a lot of fun. It was good. But it changed and... And he got rid of me. Now, I don't know... I don't fucking know. I hate myself. And I'm pretty sure the person I love kind of hates me, too. I want to give up and I think... If I don't leave a note this time, if he doesn't know I'm dead, he won't care that I'm gone. He doesn't seem bothered to want me around now. Every time I reach for a memory, it dissolves into WHITE_NOISE. I look at these photos and I smile. He's... He was- is? My best fucking friend. We had fun. I can live with these thoughts. I'm just glad he's happy and getting on in life.
Laying awake the other night. I hate myself. Is fuckkng much. It doesn't matter what I do, the weight won't budge. My voice so fucking high. My speech impediment doesn't fucking help. I'm fucking hideous. I don't recognize the son of a bitch in the mirror. Hard to believe someone was once attracted to me. His infatuation was nothing more than a fucking symptom, I'm sure. Still. It was fucking nice. And the fact that he no longer feels this way ... I feel so fucking ugly. I feel so unworthy. So disgusting. Not his fault . I'd feel these things anyway. But the act of him LOSING FEELINGS, LOSING ATTRACTION, I guess that's it. I don't know how he sees me now. I am fucking ugly. It's not even an insult now. Just a sad fucking fact I'm trying to destroy but I can't seem to make it. I'm trying. So fucking hard. I'm going through photos. Organizing things. The screenshots of our video calls. He used to be happy to see me. We used to hang out, laugh. Enjoy each other's company. He used to look at me like I was worth something. We exchange a few words once a week, now. I'm not special. I'm not... Am I even his friend anymore? He told me I was one of the most important people in his life. But maybe he said that because he felt guilty I tried to kill myself. It wasn't his fault. But I know he still feels that way. The thing with that is ... I know when you push people out of your life, when you lock the door with no intention of never opening it again, you've already made peace with their death. You have to accept that if you will Never see them, know them again, on your own terms, you accept they could die tomorrow. It doesn't matter if you know about it or not. He felt guilty. He didn't want my death on his conscience. He made sure I'm alive and... Closes the door again. He gave up on me a long time ago. I don't blame him. He had every right to. And every fucking day I am choked with the cult and the desperation and the frenzied, hopeless thoughts, the fucking consequences of what I did and didn't do. But he walked away. Slammed the door in my face. And he lies, telling me I'm important, as if he still cares... And I want to believe he does. But what do I have to go off of? Our past? Yeah. We were good together at times. We had a lot of fun. It was good. But it changed and... And he got rid of me. Now, I don't know... I don't fucking know. I hate myself. And I'm pretty sure the person I love kind of hates me, too. I want to give up and I think... If I don't leave a note this time, if he doesn't know I'm dead, he won't care that I'm gone. He doesn't seem bothered to want me around now. Every time I reach for a memory, it dissolves into WHITE_NOISE. I look at these photos and I smile. He's... He was- is? My best fucking friend. We had fun. I can live with these thoughts. I'm just glad he's happy and getting on in life.
// END_STREAM //