One time I visited Brandi at work. She was wearing makeup (“mac eeoop” lol)
I have a mild fever by the way so ignore the interjections if they don’t suit your mood today lol — they’re in good spirits, I’m having a good day besides being hungry I guess
Chanukah was nice because I found the menorah but also got gifted one !!!! and there was space to put it. :)
@somerandomguy
Robots don’t know what “makeup” is so they pronounce it “mac eeoop” until corrected and I say it like that in my head now, I recommend it for a cheap giggle when your body is stressed but your brain is not so you’re just sitting there while your body fights infection but doesn’t f*cking communicate with you, a tiny part of a brain, about it so you’re sitting there listening to your cat try to break into your room (oh damn she’s probably hungry) while your body sort of vaguely tries to communicate to not move yet but also we’re thirsty. Bodies do not know how things work and don’t know it’s easier to get water if you move, but that’s okay, I’m here to take care of you anyway I guess
I visited Brandi at work in 2015. She worked at Walmart in the garden center because, supposedly, they moved her without her consent when she tried to get promoted (?) to service desk.
She was wearing makeup (makYOOP) and she didn’t usually.
I cannot see faces. I am told she had very tiny eyes that made it hard to see her eye color (which she was very proud of her she color, and thought it was rare) which made it hard to be human with her. I am also told she was incredibly pale (which, in general, she was very proud of) around her face to the point that she looked extremely tired all the time. I do remember noticing eye bags under her eyes when she pointed them out to me. But it’s totally possible she’s just so pale they stick out. I have no idea.
As soon as I walked in, she didn’t say hello or act like she was seeing someone she loved. She said, “Look at my face. How do I look?”
I couldn’t f*cking tell, lol. You’d think she’d have picked up on that after a six/seven years.
But I saw lots of black streaks that, if I’d been drawing her, I wouldn’t have added to the portrait. They stood out and looked strange. It wasn’t what I was used to. It made me uncomfortable. It was not like looking at a fellow adult. I was looking at a goth emo teen going through a crisis.
My sister once asked me that same question when I was a kid and, long story short, I learned to tell the truth about if I didn’t like the look. To be honest is to err on the side of caution.
I was also aware she was cheating on me and her ex did this artwork. Her ex was touching her face presumably that morning, when I was not home in our bed.
I said I wasn’t the biggest fan. I said it with a lot of care.
She immediately got ugly in her face. I mean, angry. She said, “Great. Just great. I’ve have my coworkers making FUN of me all day. And now you FINALLY show up and you insult me too. I’m sick of working here. I’m sick of my life. You need to treat me better.”
In my current brain I would have been like, “Alright.” And left.
Instead I agreed I was terrible but didn’t take back my comment.
I think this perfectly summarizes my relationship with Brandi. Acting against my better judgement — to my SEVERE guilt — to be in charge of her emotional dysregulation.
It is occurring to me how much of a hell I was in and how much I couldn’t get out, despite my fear I was going not just against my own judgements, but of G-d’s. I remember feeling like I couldn’t sit in that chapel at my University and meditate because (1) I wasn’t allowed (I’m not discussing this right now, just quote it if you need to know more to understand something HERE) and (2) I was So Dirty with crimes.
I was CONSTANTLY at odds with myself over her. It kept me up at night. It entered therapy in weird ways because I was forbidden to discuss it.
On one hand, if I told her I was a liar? She’d kill herself. Her life would become meaningless without me — well, not ME, but someone who WAS me but wasn’t. I’d be lucky if she killed me.
I was relieved infinitely when she told me I’d never have to kill her after all.
Relieved to the point that I’m still feeling joy that I didn’t have to murder. It’s still a trigger to hear kids in documentaries trying to explain why they killed their friends. How they felt they HAD to and like in a dream they couldn’t change their actions. I refused to do it but it still f*cking haunts me. I still dream — especially when im feverish — that she’s trying to force me to kill her. I’m glad that ended before we were eighteen. I wish I’d felt able to tell an adult about this without believing that I’d be punished and made ashamed.
On the one hand, I could not tell her I was a liar. It would be a sin to destroy her entire life for the sake of my freedom. She said as much when I caved and told her I couldn’t mother her anymore. I wasn’t her mom.
I still want children but deep down I am still very afraid I’ll see Brandi’s face in them, that they’ll ask me to hurt them? Im aware it’s irrational. But some people do have evil kids born to them.
On the other hand, wasn’t I evil for telling lie after lie? Would my spirit be able to rest knowing that I did this to someone? That I probably failed some kind of divine test? Was I just not brave enough to RUIN HER LIFE for the sake of being a better person?
I still can’t figure this issue out, despite having made my decision. Despite figuring out that she was using me and knew it wasn’t real. Or, at best, was far up her ass in denial for reasons outside of my control.
Normally, when I was feverish? Fungus would come out for a chat. Do something that seemed impossible. Usually by hacking in accounts and showing off supernatural skill. To answer her constant need for proof.
It’s STILL amazing to me that I managed to get free of this. I woke up today amazed that I can do what I want to today. My brain is somewhat convinced it’s April despite the ME part —the one who can type on an iPhone (although I still couldn’t if I had no arm or hand... I mostly mean the part of me with intelligence I guess? Sort of?) — knowing full well it’s not.
It’s just odd. It feels amazing to be free of that and know I can live a life of my own. I can have a family if I want. There was a time I wasn’t going to be able to. The past feels like a weird dream.
I actually preferred the pedophile over Brandi. When I connected to him emotionally, it messed with him and he let me go.
Brandi? No. Used it against me. Took my sense of self away. Tested me all the time to see if my thoughts were aligned to what she wanted to hear.
Did I like her makeup? I still have no idea. What really happened was I had no opinion, because my only thoughts were about her cheating on me, and about her doing something she didn’t usually. When, to her, it was another test to make sure I was going to be her emotional regulation — I was supposed to like it. I wasn’t there for any other reason.
And that’s the story of what one brain does when it analyzes one particular scene from history while it’s body does something else. Now for a fun fact.
Apple once released a computer that had a 100% fail rate for literally all tasks. The reason was because Jobs wanted it to look nice, and be silent, rather than make sure it worked. Also to keep trying to ruin Wozniak’s career probably.
25% at least of iPhone users have cracked screens because Apple itself still would rather look nice than actually be as durable as modern technology actually allows.
One time, left handed iPhone users couldn’t make calls. It turns out their thumb was covering the antena. Any other company would have used this opportunity to either design a lefty-friendly phone. Apple? In an official statement, they declared that the users were “holding their device wrong.”
You can’t make this stuff up ?