“We are the gods of the atoms that make up ourselves but we are also the atoms of the gods that make up the universe.”

• I cannot live with hate in my heart. Not anymore. The thing I hate them for is not worth hate. It’s not worth me being brought down that low and experiencing “that.”
• Self-love can’t be a causality of many responsibilities. I can’t be “okay” not getting sleep.
• The people I see the negative in, also have love inside them too.
• Its the end of the road for my sleep behavior. The universe will no longer accept it from me.
• I have heaven awaiting me if I heal my sleep disorder, hell awaiting me if I don’t.

I can’t believe how unimaginative and downright lazy these p*******ers are

blinded, red faced, severed head warrior

I’m moving on. I’ve been told by priestesses and the equivalent of prophets and sages that if I’m to evolve into my best self, you’ll return into my life mirroring my best self as your best self.

I see no proof of that.

I still believe it, but from where I am, it just feels like it doesn’t matter.

I see no inkling of your presence in my life.

No contact at all.

I have a life to live.

I am moving on.

I want a girlfriend and I’m ready for one.

What a terrible thing it is to wound someone you really care for and to do it so unconsciously.”

― Haruki Murakami

If you ever read this, I’m sorry.

I wish that I got to enjoy grad school. That is all. I think there should be an element of joy to learning, and unfortunately, due to what happened and how poorly it was handled, that joy was taken. Things are so dysfunctional, so outlandish, that right now I may be a graduated student or I may not be. Schrodinger’s Diploma.

There was a tremendous amount of joy during my time at UC Davis. The memories are lined in gold. Here… not so much.

For 70K, I wish I got to enjoy this.

I received an email today from my a asking why I haven’t enroll in c. I had good reason not to, as an attempt to escape this hellish place once and for all. But on paper, i’m sure it will sound stupid.

I began to feel guilty, knowing they (them and other a’s) will blame me for this, and imply I’m further complicating an already complicated situation.

Then I began to think: given how many things THEY have fucked up for me, all the procedure THEY lack, and the lack of coordination, transparency, and support, I absolutely cannot, not for a second, begin to accept blame. Its ALL on them. Any behavior I choose in a corner they backed me into is also on them.

I realized how much implicit guilt I’ve unknowingly carried for so long. Today, forcing myself to not accept any of it here, I felt a physical sense of weight lift off me.

‘Nos-tal-gic,’ Akira said, as though it were a word he had been struggling to find. Then he said a word
in Japanese, perhaps the Japanese for ‘nostalgic’. ‘Nos-tal-gic. It is good to be nos-tal-gic. Very important.’

‘Really, old fellow?’

‘Important. Very important. Nostalgic. When we nostalgic, we remember. A world better than this
world we discover when we grow. We remember and wish good world come back again.
So very important. Just now, I had dream. I was boy. Mother, Father, close to me. In our house.’
He fell silent and continued to gaze across the rubble.

‘Akira,’ I said, sensing that the longer this talk went on, the greater was some danger I did not wish fully
to articulate. ‘We should move on. We have much to do.’