AnOublietteofThought

It is that time of the week where I do my weekly update without really saying anything. This one will be much the same.

This past week was rough. There were a few days that were exceptionally rough. The week isn't just a blur. Really the whole month is a blur. This morning, someone I speak to every day, said that this is the first day in a month where I sound like myself. I was admittedly slightly offended because I thought I do very well at hiding when I don't feel well. And I have made extra effort to do so. I'm going to have to work on that.

I don't have a lot to say on it all. I haven't had this kind of stomach issues and migraines in a while, I think. Not for so long. It's still not over. But at least it's livable right now. There was one day, where I would not have minded if it had just taken me out.

I get eyes rolled at me quite a bit or told I'm being too sensitive when I say I can't do something or I can't eat something. I get why people think that. If it's minor and I've been really strict with myself for months, the discomfort that it will cause me is not something that I really show or acknowledge even to myself because I just don't acknowledge pain until it reaches certain levels. When you live with very high levels of chronic pain for decades and you have experienced extreme amounts of acute pain, your brain and nervous system kind of starts to rewire what pain is to you.

For me, personally, there seems to be a line. I think I am subconsciously aware that things are there, but it doesn't register for me to do something until it's close to that line or has already passed it. At that point, it is too late. My ex used to say to me that he did not understand how I could be so sensory sensitive on the one hand, but completely oblivious on the other hand.

It's kind of true that I am like that. I can feel the most subtle of breeze or vibration in a room, but not realize that I'm getting too cold until I am already spasming extremely hard from being too cold. In fact, sometimes I feel hot and want to be colder. Right now I want to be colder. It is 65° in my apartment. I should be fine. I am this close to sweating. If I start sweating I will break out into hives. Alas, I actually need to turn my AC up because the morning is starting and dropping your temperature by 40 and 50° makes the AC very unhappy.

I am rambling just so I don't have to say anything. This time was bad. I really can't eat such things out of convenience. It sucks whenever you're hurting so bad that you really aren't capable of standing up very long. I do have food in the freezer that has been prepped and cooked. Absolutely delicious food. The very thought of it makes me nauseous. That is concerning, because it is my main staple. I'm not sure what to think about that right now.

Let's see... mental health. Where is mine? Probably okay until I start thinking. Thinking can get you in trouble sometimes. Especially if you are fond of understanding things. There is bliss in ignorance. I don't know.

I also got invited to go somewhere this week that would be nice to go to. I said no. I really don't get in cars with strangers. I especially do not go off on a long distance trip with strangers. Even if I do know one person that would mean that I am subject to someone's rules that I don't know and dependent upon them for safety for an extended period of time. That is really not in my wheelhouse. I understand that people do it all the time, but I am not those people. There is a very good reason why I have not placed myself out there in the dating pool extensively. I trust no one. 🤣

I did do the trust thing a few times. I don't think the guy realizes when I said that I think he might chop me up into little pieces that I was being serious. Jokingly serious. I really just don't like to be dependent upon someone if I don't trust them explicitly. Very humorous, really. I'm going to have to get over that. Or maybe not.

In my youth, I went to places with people I barely knew quite often. As well as in my early adulthood. I was in a lot better shape then. Also, ignorance is bliss. Even still, I was always wary. I don't know. I also paid for it a few times. I have paid for it with people I've known exceptionally well, also. I guess it is little wonder why I am the way I am today, but I do understand that most people don't quite grasp it.

There is a beauty to aging. There are also things that suck about it. Seeing the world more clearly, really sucks. I used to laugh when people would say that a decade makes a difference. I was quite mature for my age when I was younger. But, I would say that every decade does seem to make quite a bit of a difference. Not for everyone. For persons like myself, I think it does.

Some people will perpetually be 13 years old both in actions and thoughts. I wonder what my 60s will bring me. I would acknowledge it partially scares me. I do not like the idea of being old and less capable in a society and world that is determined to destroy everything. I do not like it at all. I think I am better coming to terms with it, though.

I did not keep up with my chores well this past month and it shows. I think I should consider that. Anyway, I lost a pound. One would think I would have lost more, all things considered. I don't really care either way at the moment. I'm very tired and still in a considerable amount of pain. I would happily gain several pounds back if it would just give me some energy.

With all of that said, I am in a positive mindset, and I'm determined to have a good day.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

These words we say. These walls we climb. These epitaphs that fall in line. These wildly wondering wandering ways. These cruel distortions sown to fray. These lies upon lies upon lies long cast. These truths lawed forsaken to whither our past. These indignations we shed to spare. These lacerations we score as care. These bartered teachings paved from the start. These words that ensure we all play our part.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

There are footnotes on this broken bridge— legions of paralysis inkscaped from the droughts of servitude, like dismissive dilations dancing atop the dreary recalibrations of a cracked, yet tethered, dogma. I stoop and scoop in looping high. Head just shy of a mounted celebration. The hesitation is exuberant in its weariness— two steps forward (A race of wherewithal from the back.) I've gotten off track. What I'd give for time on a wrack, extending... There are footnotes on this broken bridge where crosses esteem my lope haunting.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Dreams are funny things that come and go. Rarely do mine interrupt or intersect. However, he is a steady repeat. He's always been there. My Darkness. My Shadow. My Faerie Man. My Male of Faerie.

Tonight, he bloodied his fingers and scratched the wreathing tendrils of shadow incorporated within him to pluck the crushing weight of slab and stone that was suffocating my broken limbs, and pitch it asunder into the mighty void between dreams.

I was fading. I could feel every drop of consciousness plummeting drip by unrecoverable drip. I heard his melody thrumming through my mind. He was very angry with me, growling at my foolishness. Snarling that he had taught me better. He did not find my “tethering” cheeky. The use of “cheeky” had caused me to laugh and choke on the blood bubbling past my lips.

Everything hurt so bad, but a fog was forming around the pain as my mind began to drift through other dreams and other trips. I could hear him growling about our unfinished book. That I still owed him many more pages. That was our trade. Our agreement. Briefly, I realized it an uneven bond, for the majesty of such a book was that it had no end.

I felt the whirlpool of his essence swirling and encompassing me. Seeping into me. Merging with my blood and mending the wounds that dared to break our contract. It was a frigid, burning, soothing crutch. For the smallest of eternities, I understood everything. I tasted our memories seasoning absence with a completeness there are no words for, and then we were fractured once more.

I awoke with the memory of his smile and a song. Our song—of woods and rain and obsidian night. I awoke owing him the poetry of my soul, for he continued to doom his relevance via maintaining our lifeline.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved

I dream of you— crystal waves crashing along a cerulean shore of crumbling haste. Flickers fantasized inferno. A graduation of accelerating power. We dance the circumference of a scoured whole, never quite stabilizing on this topsy-turvy clever where worlds sweep the void of dimension-hopping suggestion aside, and acclimation becomes our tomb.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I ran across someone who, like me, used to be a Game Master/Immortal back in the day of MUDs. We had a bit of a nostalgia trip. Then we had a good laugh discussing what we'd do in a modern game.

Back then, I designed entire realms, quests, and of course, equipment. I'd not expect a game like World of Warcraft to allow the power we had then. If it took a bunch of old Game Masters and gave them a free subscription in exchange for so many hours of community morale boosting, gave us so many perks to hand out each day, and enabled whatever our character was with a few specialized and fun skills, I imagine it would be quite the boost to the game. A boost that really wouldn't cost them anything.

Combine our creative, on-the-fly thinking and planning with modern game dynamics and graphics...it makes me want to game. Sadly, modern digital games are missing that magic. When going up and engaging with a Game Master was a real roll of the dice. We had so much power at our fingertips.

Part of the fun of the game was experiencing how we'd choose to use it. I got euphoric just witnessing the players' giddiness. Another thing I enjoyed was seeing players who'd normally rarely roleplay suddenly sink fully in character. It was such a delight.

It's hard to believe it's been about thirty years ago. A few years less for some. That was quite a time for being on the internet. Everyone was doing things for the love of it, and the vast majority were very literate. There are times when I really miss those days a lot. I definitely miss being a Game Master/Immortal. We didn't just have power. We had a responsibility to the game and to the players. We created individualized magic, and also swift, individualized repercussions. The world lived because we were invested in ensuring the players had a most fantastic and memorable time that could be unexpectedly flipped on its head at any given moment. It's too bad so many generations of gamers will never get to experience that magic. We didn't have graphics. We had words and our imagination. They are very fond memories.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

He did not settle upon my heart with the coziness of a warm blanket. He clawed his way through terror and rejection, roaring in silent defiance until I granted audience. Until I opened my eyes to see what stood before me.

It is said, that when the leaves blush in longing dance, air and water will unite to set flame to ways long rotting. What they forgot to mention is that the earth must tremble, cracking until mountains rise to spew fire into the heavens. Forever igniting our best minds to blaze in remorse. The unyielding storm holds no syllables in that passage.

Storms do not yield. They flood. They rupture. They clean the slate and leave a debris field of memories for us to learn from. But we haven't learned. Neither have I. Neither has he. We just are. Two victims of a cunning value. Little more. Little less.

We are taught that we must never gaze into the eyes of our heroes. One does not ascend to such great depths by doing what they are told. I dared to peer into the travesty of his gaze, and in that monumental moment of a not-so-insignificant contact—

the world tilted.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

Plaiting the tactile indifference of a parting disposition, he scoops a seeded reverence. Always plucking. Always stranded beneath a lofty crown. Always his awl weighs the scratchings of a scandalized plot, but he roots no spurning wonder. Inconsistencies forever draft his hand.

© 2026 AnOublietteofThought. All rights reserved.

I think I'm still in the middle of acknowledging self-compassion with this week. In my current state, I am attempting to make decisions in which I can get annoyed with myself out of what I think might just be a self-taught and experience-learned ignorance.

My migraines are still coming and going on a dime. I am referencing the incapacitating variety. I must acknowledge that I've had a pretty constant intense headache for at least a few weeks now. I'm so capable of pushing intense headaches/non-incapacitating migraines to the side, that I don't do myself any favors with the tendency. An example would be I'm currently tapping on my phone though I can feel the visual nausea, and the majority of the last twelve hours has been excruciating and incapacitating. The smart kitty would completely disregard her phone.

In fact, though I have the backlight as dim as possible, it's bright enough for me that my eyes feel like they're being stabbed, and I can feel myself starting to get dragged back under. I'm trying to ignore it because the sleep paralysis has sucked today. I can tell I'm not going to succeed, so I'm attempting to race towards a point where this entry at least feels finished.

Stuck. In these moments, I feel stuck. I must base my success on the smallest of most basic accomplishments when like this. It both annoys the hell out of me, but also gifts me with the recognition of how fortunate I am. As it could be so much worse. I have had many people get very annoyed with me for saying that. In many ways, I hope they remain ignorant enough to stay annoyed. In others, I wonder if it'd have a positive change for the world if more understood just how much worse it could be. I am really damn lucky.

With that said, my weight loss stalled this week. I expected it to be worse with my comfort seeking eating choices. Exercise has been purely minimal. I am moving. That's what is most important. My mood is positive, though I've had a few moments of not exactly despair. More longing, I think. Longing for the impossible can suck at times. Alas, I still find myself doing it. I think, at times, it has kept me sane. To believe in possibility can be a superpower. I remind myself that if I purely listened to what experts or popular opinion say, the last 35 years of my life would be drastically different, because I would have never walked again. Not only have I walked, I've ran a marathon, and I am not a long-distance runner in any way, shape, or form.

It feels a bit silly to bring something so old up, but it is a good reminder that believing in myself can equate to most encouraging achievements. What it can't do, apparently, is stave off the migraine-induced sleep I'm being pulled towards.

The world is changing faster than I think most of us are capable of acknowledging. That sucks, and is frightening. However, it's fascinating to observe on a multitude of levels. How fortunate to see it. I do not like having the multiple weaknesses during such a time. I'd much prefer capability as a given. Alas, it is not. Nor is it really for any of us.

I am sickened by my government. The choices being made for all of us outright pisses me off. That a bunch of spoiled and neglectful imbeciles can ecstatically create so much hardship and destruction while being cheered on by the very people they eagerly wound creates a soul-deep emotion within me that I do not have a name for. I feel a very strong sense of loss for our reality. We might just be the pinnacle of failed experiments for our Universe. I can only hope that we or other creatures will learn something positive before devastation proves to be a relentless houseguest.

For now, my nose wishes me to finish with my alphabet poking before it moves out of the way and my eye gets a new pounding to contend with. 😸 I will be most pleased if I do not get pulled back into the same dream/nightmares. All in all, I am counting this week as a success. There's plenty I did not get done that I wanted to. Yet I still have found myself smiling more than not, and I have not beat myself up for the unavoidable.

I am learning that expectation can be one of the most vile systems in existence. Like many things, it's a positive as long as it isn't misused nor blindly delivered. I am learning to be less expectant and more accepting of myself. At least that's what I'm telling myself. The beauty of learning is both the allowance and expectation to consistently fuck up along the journey. No wonder the long-awaited arrival is most generous in giving the option to expand and continuously learn with both our greatest leaps and our almost constant stumbles.

How's that for dragging oneself across the finish line? Perhaps there's a reason humans learn to crawl before we walk...The training wheels never really go away.

Written August 9, 2026. © 2026 AnOublietteofThought.

Morning lacerates glib instincts with the reckless hollow of a vacant corridor. We walk in step with the silent syllables stranding us as survivors from a strangely productive and uncomplicated design.

Too thrilled to have neglected the intolerance of a gluttonous till, we remain blindsided of every course-corrected negligence. In fact, we have a peculiar pattern of peddling headfirst towards the worst-case expenditure with an infallible persistence.

I'd be petty if I demonstrated care. The dare has always been how we'll wear awareness when the inhibited inflate their preferred indignation and disgrace fealty with a platform staged to be stunning.

My feet drag against a well-timed send-off while you eagerly race towards an ill-groomed subjugation. The state of our nation brays, nonetheless.

Written August 9, 2026. © 2026 AnOublietteofThought.