this blog contains depictions of $u1c1dal th0ughts and attempts, and brief a mention of z00ph1l1a and s3xual a$$ault.

i feel bad for ever wanting to be TOO personal or detailed on this blog... i have quite a few eyes on my channel and my site... it feels like my blog is too public.
there's so many things i want to talk about, but im worried it will seem too, like, blatant. forefront. out in the open.
but now i dont care anymore so here is my nightmareblog nightmareslop nyancat100000 box game e8171546b67,
im bad at keeping my writing consistent due to dyslexia, it's always been very difficult for me to write anything in a comprehensive order. i jump around alot.
to start off, ive been feeling like my outlook on life has become very bleak. very shallow. like, with a life ahead of you, you arent meant to be able to see the end yet. like, imagine every life being a tunnel. some tunnels end early, some last as long as they should. when you're 19, you shouldnt be seeing the light yet.
i try to ignore it. but i do, in fact, see the light at the end of my tunnel. it glows in bright flourecent colors, beckoning me to come near it like the kragle from the lego movie.
next year i go to my dream animation school. im going to scad savannah. i try to think about that to get my mind off of suicidal ideation, but an exciting future dosnt phase me like it should. it feels weak. i go to college, then what? hop from gig to gig working for cartoon shows destined to be canceled before the 3rd season? then im out of a job, left to find a new gig. i feel like i should've been a dentist or some shit. they get paid so much for doing NOTHING!

the reasoning for this ideation is a mixture of things.
many of these things stem from this guy featured in i hate beachboy, 200, and puppy.

i was in a relationship with this guy for nearly 6 years, the entire duration was me trying to 'fix him'. he saw me as more of an object than a lover. i know he loved me to a degree. or at least, what he thought love was.
we began as an online relationship, but then starting in 2022, met in person on multiple occasions with other online friends accompanying us.
here's where it gets strange. we never told any of our friends that we were in a dedicated relationship. i dont entirely know why. i would speak to him about possibly telling a close friend, but he was too 'afraid' to tell anyone. i just kind of let it be, and i kept my mouth shut about our relationship.
this guy was clearly extremely evil, especially how he is depicted in my videos.
let me just preface this so you understand how bad he was.
he had an awful p0rn addiction regarding eeveelutions (with animal characteristics). just thought i should mention that.
also, on multiple occasions, he would engage in non-consentual s3x with me. what a shocker!
these things have made it very hard for me to ever be 100% comfortable with anything remotely s3xual. here is a visual representation of how that feels for me.


it's an on and off thing. one moment im okay with it, the next moment i HATE it.
this violent discomfort has led me to have intense suicidal thoughts, leading to alchohol abuse, SH, and attempts.
just a couple of days ago, i tried hurting myself by mixing medication with alchohol. specifically clomipramine. this medication was perscribed to me so i could try it out, only to find out it would cause violent seizure-like treamors, like, full body convulsions, causing me to be bed-ridden for an entire one and a half days. and that's just with 15mg (i split the pill in half on my first dose), when the average dose is 50mg.
i promptly stopped the medication in favor of trying another, but most anti depressants give me similar results.
this bottle of clomipramine sat in my room for weeks, and i would have thoughts of downing the whole bottle to try and die. (the whole bottle would certainly kill me).
and so, a few nights ago i got drunk, and got sad, got REAL sad.
for further info, there are things that generally prevented me from doing anything irrational, such as old traditional artwork i would like to destroy before i die, as well as wanting to compile all of my passwords into a text document for proper archival of my online spaces.
and so, a drunken cal stands in front of the bathroom sink, plugs the drain, turns on the faucet, and begins distinigrating some of his old works in the water.
since it was all loose-leaf paper, it fell appart pretty quick, and i flushed the torn remains.
i stumble back into my room, i sit down at my desk, and try my best at documenting the known passwords to all my things in a text document. i save it, give it a glaring title, and leave it in the middle of my desktop.

i realise im very hungry.
what's dying without a last meal? i thought, shrowded in a mental cloud of alchohol, justifying my silly idea to go make fries in my air fryer.
before i ate, i took a single pill of clomipramine. i thought "if i truly want this, il take the rest after im finished eating these fries." cleverly giving myself ample time to really think about this decision.
i watched an ewu interogation video while eating, with the bottle of pills still sitting in view.
i finished eating, and decided to not take the whole bottle, but to just take two more of them. just to make things interesting for when i wake up in the morning.
that was like 75mg of a medication that gave me horrible side effects at just 15mg.
i get into bed, and i conk out. i wake up, unable to really move, teeth chattering, legs restless, and unable to walk. that day i had online therapy thankfully, so i told my therapist what happined. she then begged me to go to the emergency room via uber, or else she threatened to call me an ambulance. i told her i couldnt just do that. i really did not want to go to the emergency room, so we came up with a deal. i flush the rest of the clomipramine, and she gets to call my mom and set up a 'safety plan' with her. i agreed, and she watched on my phone camera as i poured the pills into the toilet, and flushed them. i then hobbled back into bed.
she then went on to explain that if somthing like this happens again, she will be forced to get police to escort me out of my house in handcuffs, and il be taken to court where my therapist has to stand in front of a judge and convince the court that im mentally ill and need to be admitted into a ward. that sounds petrifying. mainly the court part though.. being handcuffed and stuffed into the back of a police car sounds really intersting.
at one point my therapist forced me to ask my mom to put her hand gun in my brother's gun safe so i didn't try and use it on myself. my therapist cares a lot about my wellbeing.

and after all of that, i still dont nessisarily feel much better. tommarow i have therapy again, so maybe that will provide me with ample support.
i want to make more videos this month but its stupidly difficult. usually sadness promotes my creative flow, but this kind of sadness is different. it's debilitating.
i want to go to sleep and not wake up.
this concludes cal's nightmareblog nightmareslop nyancat100000 box game e8171546b67