### Intentions: Really make headway into my Fil 115 backlogs Work on self-control ### Happenings: Woke up at 8:00AM. I hope to maintain this streak of waking up in the morning. Not during the evening. I think it messes up my circadian rhythm. Also, I need to start fasting. I want to live long. I really want to see the future, maybe the year 2100 even if it’ll probably be sweltering because of climate change. I pray to God if He allows it that I won’t be poor. So I can migrate to a cooler country that has the tech to avoid tsunamis or inclement weather. I was reading the Bible and God forgive me, but my body is weak. The flesh. You know, it decided to spontaneously orgasm. A small one, but it rushed over me. Admittedly my mind flitted towards sexual imagery again. I find myself asking God to stop these thoughts from intruding into my consciousness. I feel like they’re demons, or at least they’re planted by demons. I’m convinced some part of our thoughts are controlled by the conscious, smarter, ancient spiritual realm that has been directing humanity since the dawn of time from when Adam and Eve sinned. God wrote the entirety of time as a whole, with all the details, but somewhere between these infinitely small spaces, Satan and his minions serve as directors and actors, injecting all their might and power as much as possible within the confines of what God has allowed will happen to the Letter of our lives. Within those spaces, thoughts, feelings, capricious and faint and always chaotic. I know better by now that moda + music is never a good idea. It’s literally cannabis. Not literally. But it feels like how I’d imagine getting high feels like. I jumped headfirst into fantasy. Listening to all these sensual songs. Why does my body do this? It craves stimulation when I get high on moda. I thought it makes me productive but apparently it makes me hyperfocus on a thing that I’ve hedged a bet on aside from homework. I was literally committing fornication in my head. I feel so helpless. Even though I didn’t touch myself. — The only good thing that came out of my Tiktok doom scrolling today is that I learned what a trauma bond is. And it accurately describes what I’m going through. Well, at least on my side, that is. — I can feel heartache physically. Takotsubo cardiomyopathy. If I die soon it’ll probably be a blessing because I can almost not stand this pain. My heart just physically hurts right now. — Maybe I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. I mean rationally I know they also had a hand in this mess, however unintended (or not). I’m allowed to feel hurt. I must not think of myself as pathetic or naive. I have to dignify myself because no one will do it. I feel so alone in this pain that I sometimes think it’s why I can’t think about anything else. I can’t read books and absorb them. Some unconscious part, like at least 20% at any given moment of the waking day, is in trauma/self-soothing mode, harboring fantasy and feel-good rationalizations just waiting for an “in” when my superego slips up even for a second. Well, my superego is really tired. Keeping up this charade of trying to be mature and writing “A Map of Pain” and confronting reality. Grieving, and rejoicing at signs, and then grieving again, and then becoming “limerent” again. For once I’d just like to be stable. Maybe if I can visit his consciousness through astral projection or something I’ll find out a nuclear button piece of information like he has HIV from prostitution and bar-hopping and being a rake. Maybe then I’d permanently be released from this hellscape. Sometimes all you need is a couple of hours of crying. — What I actually ended up doing is cry for ten minutes and re-read Catching Fire and Mockingjay. Well, I skimmed. ### Grateful For: ### Action items Fil 115