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My first wordvomit

I’m trying something new. I started reading Visakan Veerasamy’s ebook INTROSPECT yesterday, and it has been everything I have needed and more. It contains a lot of useful stuff, but the one thing I knew I needed to start doing immediately was this: stream-of-conciousness journaling. Visa (I call him Visa cuz it already feels like I know him personally) calls them ‘wordvomits’, journal entries that are as raw and unedited as possible. He describes it this way: “Done well, journaling is a way of outrunning your inner critic, your homeostasis engine, yourmind’s propaganda department that tries to pretend that everything

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Highly Gifted

Both my mom and a woman in my class sent me the same article about giftedness today. I was diagnosed as highly gifted as a child, but I never really knew about all the negative sides it came with. To me, it feels weird thinking that something that sounds so positive (yet so arrogant to say about yourself) could have such a negative effect on me as well. My crippling perfectionism, my emotional intensity and instability, my loneliness, the idea that I might be a narcissist, all could just be the result of my high giftedness. When I started up

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Anticlimax

Disclaimer: the sentiment in this post was just a snapshot of how I felt at the time. I have since been informed that my words are quite hurtful and I now regret this post. Rather than delete it, I have expanded on it below in an attempt to be more nuanced in my expression. The first semester ended on kind of a sad note. The group projects were supposed to be the climax, a first chance to meet people and form bonds with those you will work with in later years and maybe even in the real world. But for

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Waiting

Sometimes I feel like no one understands me. Like I’m alone in this world, no purpose, no meaning, completely disconnected. Everything I do matters only to myself. But sometimes someone comes along that makes me feel alive. Someone who makes me do crazy things and reminds me that I am not on my own. They arrive in the form of a friend or a lover, and sometimes those lines blur. It’s beautiful. But then it ends. I guess I’ll just be waiting for someone to come along.

Enigma

There is coldness in your warmth, distance in your proximity. Who am I in your head? Who are you? You are in my head but you are also out there. You stir things up up there. Chaos and destruction is all around. I welcome it. But will something be left when the dust settles? Or will it just be me, sitting alone, looking at the shards, trying to figure out how they fit together? You are not the person in my head. I try to be in your head, but I should just be. I welcome you to enter my

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