We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

kaboom

Let me clear something up, immediately. I am not a crazy survivalist type who stores up rations and first aid kits and jugs of water because I believe that there is an impending Dooms Day at hand. I am not afraid that there will be some huge world war, or nuclear holocaust, or what else is there — Armageddon? The Rapture? Whatever. None of that is anything that preoccupies my mind very much.

However, whenever I consider maybe going in for some treatment, as many of my friends and acquaintances do, as many friends actually recommend that I try out, I get a very real fear that if I do so, if I give in and just seek outside help, then the world as we know it will swirl down the drain and we will be living in a nightmarish post-apocalyptic situation where it’s every man for himself and all prescriptions will stop. So all of the medicated people will lose it, either physically or mentally or both. And I am not like “I want to keep my wits sharp!” I’m just like, if I got used to relying on mood stabilizers, I think it would be even more difficult to manage things in that situation. Sorry I can’t restructure society into something that is hopefully better, because my body is dealing with withdrawal and I can only sleep in this hollowed out log with a scrap of a blanket and cry. I mean, I probably will be doing exactly that, but I want it to not be because I am having medical withdrawal symptoms. Those somehow sound scarier and worse than what I’m used to.

I think this concern makes a lot of sense! But I guess in the back of my mind, it does seem slightly dramatic. And maybe like I’m making excuses. But I’d rather not cause end of the world just because I was too tired to go on like I am. Maybe you all should be thanking me!

masks

When two friends hold a casual conversation, sometimes it turns into an unexpected confession. Sometimes, it is revealed that one or both of the conversationalists are terrible people, on the inside. In this real life chat that really did happen, cchris seems like he is maybe worried, or at least taking mental notes for some purpose or another, but I’m sure I was just saying what he had already thought for himself before. I’m CERTAIN.

Please, enjoy this comic. And please, don’t run away from me.

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So, I recently moved to a new place. My darling cat, Sebastian, and I needed more room, as well as a space where I ideally didn’t need to lie to the agents about having a darling cat. Conveniently, after casually mentioning my search on social media, I was contacted by an old acquaintance who was looking to rent out his house.

WATCH OUT

There was some stuff in it, he said, but he’d taken everything he wanted, so I could take what I needed and throw out the rest. Give the house a new life, and all that. This all seemed well and good to me, plus the promise of no rental inspections, ever, was too good to resist. After making an agreement, I started sifting through the things and theorising about what they might be used for.

 

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I have been drowning myself in video games, lately. This is quite unusual as I generally try to avoid them. Modern video games tend to nauseate me with the way they move; even the good ones will give me a mild headache. I am having a mild headache right now, actually. I am on a break from this one game I found in my friends’ old stack of games. It is called “Fable.” I am playing it miserably, and am not good at quests and keeping track of what the plot even is. But I enjoy the ways you can interact with the other people. I started out being very Good, and people would cheer for me as I walked along. But then, my good pal Brian influenced me in terrible ways.

old game

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We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

never leave

This is one of those installments that sound like I am making it up, but there have certainly been times in my life (one of the times I was probably legitimately being insane and the other times probably can be blamed on not getting enough sleep) where I have feared simply opening a door. Doors to the outside world were basically never to be opened unless I was leaving with someone, but even doors inside my own home would cause me some amount of scare. I started to wonder, a little too vividly, what would happen in this infinite universe if I opened the door and someone was standing there, where someone should not be. Or what if things were rearranged? What if there was an actual monster or a murderer? What would happen in this infinite universe if I suddenly slipped into a reality that seemed totally the same, until I opened the bedroom door and instead of seeing the living room, I was in an alien world? Then I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to make it in that plot twist. I wouldn’t be able to assess this new situation and be capable and brave. What if I instead just went blitheringly insane?

The joke was on me of course because I pretty clearly had lost my mind already.

It’s a different kind of life, when you’re obsessed with Amandoll. There is a lot of upkeep and foresight and you have to plan certain things well in advance to make sure you have enough time to obsess. You have to make sure she tells you everything going on and you have to make sure that she knows every detail of your day. You need to surround yourself in all things Amandoll.

Since it’s Amandoll week, I have recorded this entry in my diary for you all, so that you can see the work that goes into it. So that you can see that Amandoll is my morning and my evening, the cream in my coffee, my friend til the end.

Fanmail

 

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