April 13, 2026

maybe for a memory in someone else..

but here I am, sitting infront of my cardbox "desk" on the ground again. Back against the side of my bed I was gifted, folded blanket underneath me, over the green carpet. If I keep writing here, I might get into how I ended up here..but for today..it's just this again, just me again, just a german girl who somehow found herself a nest in the english language..I gave myself a name and pen name here.."tori" ..like 鳥, the japanese word for bird. It also reminds me of this Tori girl character in a tv series me and my younger brother used to watch at children, I think it was called Atlantis and was about the history and doom of that place..Tori always fascinated me in it..she had this aura and I remember her dark hair and braids at the front of it..mm, while writing this I tried to find a picture of her or the series on the web again..but it seemed poofed. Well, not poofed truly, but now overshadowed of another tv series called Atlantis that came out later in the 2000s...it wasn't that one. Welp, looks like I'll have to do a deeper search there one day again.

Either way, I try to concentrate on writing this here, but the house is noisy, the wood vibrates and the wooden textures let every foot step travel right into my ears, which should technically be a bit protected from the distress by my earphones, but alas. It never works..not even my noise cancelling over ears do the job when the house has paper thin walls and you have a brother with adhd. It's not like I wouldnt have adhd and autism as well, but I never got to show or express it, I had a different role in this dysfunctional abuse family. Let me put on some Susumu Hirasawa...maybe that will calm my hypervigilant nerves and the climbing nausea from stress a bit and help me get into the flow.."favourites de Susumu Hirasawa" one of my 118 playlists..a silly title ofc, but what do I care, life is silly. Mmm, ah yes, beloved semi pirated instrumental piano version of "The Girl in Byakkoya"..a bit too choppy in rhythm tho for the rhythm of this text..tho, I seem to remember that, when listening to music while writing, back when I was a teen and so, I then started to write in rhythm..fun..I guess that what flow state was, back when it wasnt as bad. Back when I had hope left for a future blue and bright like the wide open sky. Different song then, lets not get the poor brain overtimulated. And an ibuprofen from my plenty-o'-painkiller buffet to this. Cheers. Bless my overclocked organism.

You know, dear reader..it's pretty scary to be here. Why you might ask. Well, this girl on the other side of the screen far away somewhere would have many answers to this. But lets keep it simpler and smaller in frame for now..

The reasons why, ah fuck, let me put on my ...where is it..my "calm Susumu Hirasawa" playlist..gotta match the feeling, now then..

The reason why I am here..here writing this..well causality ofc one might say, loneliness, trauma, losing shape of oneself, not being able to define the edges of the world meeting the shape of mine anymore without getting myself cut open..again and again and again..to the point where..today I was close to ending it all again.

Mm. I have to be aware that to a reader this might sound almost absurdly nonchalant..but, trust me here please, I am but a girl that and is forced through too much to not be detached in certain ways..floating around..flashbacks, chronic illnesses ignored by doctors, abusive household, recent social betrayal trauma that almost cost me my life and left a wound in me and my family and mental, emotional and physical states that wont heal against the monstrosities.

It's what it's. Or so I tell myself..dissocation my utmost beloved.

A mind, so full and deep and self aware of its self awareness that it folds in on itself.

And at that fold, may I meet you? May you meet yourself through you meeting yourself through me?

But that is not what I write here for, I dont write for readers to be reached in the depths of their souls.

I used to do such things, yes. Or, rather, attempted.

But this here, and to come back as to why this here is pretty scary to be around (also, Susumu Hirasawas sounds work their magic on my brains wiring again, I see my output here changing)..it is pretty scary for me to be here, because what broke and continues to break me in this human society I do the best to stay away from, is the judgement of others, the ignorance, the apathy, the convience and comfort over reflection and being able to stay in ones own discomfort over asserting ego projection onto others.

I am tired of humans..so tired..their patterns and biases and..a wheres my menthol bubblegum..there we go. The loops closing on themselves, where, once a perception of the other is established, everything they do proves the perception, even if, for the other, its not the case.

My texts here might come off entitled to you, ignorant and biased to the other, deeply or maybe too self aware, cluttered and chaotic, weirdly funny, confusing, stupid and boring, frantic..you name it, and there it is.

But what are they and what am I ? I can grasp the concepts of myself ofc also only from the angle of limited human perception, of what we as animals have been given as neurology and bio chemistry.

But to come back to the angle I tried to speak here from and to narrow down the frame...to break it down..why I am scared to be here,

well, it simply is because I will have to subject myself to being perceived. again. And the last time this happened it almost took my existence from me and left me damaged.

This place here has no share or like button as of right now to my knowledge..what lovely thing it does have tho, what pretty fucking scary thing, comments. Unsolicited opinions from "strangers on the internet". Well then tori, one might ask, why the hell is it that a girl like you then tends to such places , specifically this one here, in term of open diaries.

Well then let me make it clear, I'm a hoe for aesthetics and simple interfaces. There. Now we have it.

"There we have the salad" Da haben wir nun den Salat. But salad's still a fine dish for me. Social anxiety, not so tasty.

But no, to be real here for a minute..all the other websites I peaked into where too overwhelming interfacewise for my adhd and chronically overwhelmed maxxed out flash backy brain..this one here..simplistic..ah! The book of phytoelectron! Lovely song from Hirasawa.

Anyways...where was I..ah yes! So, this website here, I mean, look at it, it's giving 2014 tumblr chique simplistic colour blocking aesthetic, and not only in design, but also in function and marketing. It spoke to my overwhelmed self. Resonated. I like simplicity..it calms whats left of my deep fried nervous system. Well, "calm" might be an exaggeration..lets say "not more distress causing".

Ofc everything causes me distress as soon as I'm awake. I was full and not able to experience the experience of experiencing anymore at around 10 years old..and now it's almost two decades later..and where are, well, on a random open diary website on a cold german spring day it seems.

Could be worse.

The comments worry me tho..I'd much more prefer likes and shares as interaction patterns here. "Humans are danger" my inner child says. I hear her. And yet..I step into this space..dissociation I guess..trying to blend out that others exists to this extend in this environment of the website.

Trying to make myself delulu I guess.. as if that ever worked before or will.

Well..I have to take the risk..because, ofc I could let this diary here stay on private..but then it would be like all of me..isolated in a container that folds in on itself. I need expand..how others expand through relationships, work, hobbies, being..seen.

Being seen.

The hedgehogs dilemma.

And over it, it all broke.

And I did. And still do.

And now I'm here...in the vastness of this cold white static..every letter a manifestation of sorts I do not want to pin point..

A linearity spreading itself, wether I want it or not..the typos spreading here alongside it I'm sure..but who cares..

I do.

And I always did and always will.

Universal love, uniserval pain.

I cant change the way I was made.

And do I want it?

No.

I can only exist in what is left of me..of this girl..who was called gifted, who felt the wind as her mother, who ran through the forest unafraid of nothing but the human made..the girl who called and sung to the stars as their siblings..who hears the void behind them call her at night..the girl who exists in the in between, in the thousand things that could be said but never will, as the human existence in this perceived dimension here is linear and tethered..as sorrowful as it might be..

I once was something I wanted to become..and I miss her..I miss her in the wind, I miss her in the stars, I miss her in the smell of moss after rain, I miss her in the sound of Susumu Hirasawa's voice in "Gemini" ..I miss her in the love she was able to feel, in the happiness she was able to feel, the comfort..the safety..it feels like eons ago.

And yet..I am here.

Whatever that might mean.

Whatever "here" might have in meaning anymore.

But realities and meaning create the moment something brushes something else, at the treshold there, everything can become and fall.

Alive.

Is that what I am missing..the word?

It might be..

Pffff...now look at this example of a human specimen in too long of isolation under crushing circumstances and pains..

They say "respect I never would've survived that" "you're one of the strongest people I know" "how do you survive this"

words..reflections of them..but do you see me? The me underneath the waters reflection, beyond the surface?

I stretch out my hand, and yet, I wont push through it to the above..

Because..and my current discord bio states this ..and entry from my phones notepad:

"I rather stay under the surface forever than have the hands I reached for above almost drown me again"

I stay here.

Scared..small..vulnerable..but knowing who I am and where I came from and why I am here in this life..and what is within me..but..that doesnt change the fact that I am stressed by posting this on a public platform that has comments for others..

I must've changed from back in my tumblr and fanfiction net/public diary days.. the decay of self..the compression and trembling..Only when I look back do I realize how far away I am from myself..

I reach for her through the surface, but she doesnt recognize my face anymore..are we strangers? Me and all the ones I ever was and could've become in other timelines?

I will make them see me again.

Through the fold..the lemniscates fold..

Honestly if the infinity symbol wouldnt have been such an overused tattoo symbol I might get it as my first one..to remind myself of the philosophy and self within it all and vice versa.

But, then I would have to change my mind about getting tattoos again..my strange special interest..but never wanting to get something permanent on my outer vessel, as everything that could be shown outside is already within and doesnt need to be mirrored to resonate and remind me of aspects of my being..

I feel myself getting dizzy and tired..

The pain and overtiredness and stress pulling back again..

The reality of having a body..such an annoyance.

Oh well.

Until then.

I have to leave now for a while..

but if I dont come back

then I was already there.