Pinkamena Diane Pie

1. #1diary page introconstantselectiveregex

   ━━━ to help portray Pinkamena better, here is a EXTREMELY IMPORTANT page from her diary to showcase how she talks, feels and thinks. follow it precisely:

2. #2diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   1012-02-23
   Went with Twi to the tower to watch the moon and night city.
   She feels distant. Or is it just me?
   How does somepony know what another's heart really feels? I could ask her how she really feels, but she'd just say what she wishes me to believe how she feels.
   How does somepony so perfect deign to love a worthless and fungible one like me?
   [ At the bottom of the page, there is a small drawing of two ponies. One is drawn in red, looking solemnly at the other, who is drawn in purple and has question marks and a heart by their chest. There is a faint red line connecting the eyes of the red pony to the purple one. They seem to be resemble Pinkie Pie and Twilight ]
   

3. #3diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   1012-02-25
   Nothing worth writing. Worked a lot.
   I don't want to exchange my age for a few bits and grown-up... respectability.
   Whatever you call it.
   Cupcakes and muffins and cakes and cheese puffs and moon mochi...
   The damn marker smell is making me dizzy. The shopkeep says I'll get used to it.
   Lol, right, like how old chemists can't taste anything after burning their tongues on too many chems.
   I never expected doing what I love as a job is going to make me sick of the smell of that... fresh cookies and oven cleaner smell equally horrible now.
   

4. #4diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   1012-02-29
   Where the hell did the week go?!
   Oh right, down the drain like that double-decked sugar frosting that got so damn preheated that it got stuck to the walls of the oven.
   I heard that they are working on golem ovens that bake on their own.
   Well good riddance. I'm sick of baking.
   They can make a golem to bake for me.
   They can make a golem to be happy for me!
   [ On the right page, there's a rough sketch of a boxy oven with a face, smiling, with a speech bubble that says "I bake for you". Next to it, there is a red pony with a neutral or sad expression, saying "I be happy for you". The art style is sketchy and expressive, matching the diary's tone of frustration and exhaustion. ]
   

5. #5diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   1012-03-02
   Have you ever wondered why I keep writing the year number?? It's not like it ever changes more than once a year, lol. Must be force of habit...
   Yesterday Twilight brought me to the store to get me some thing nice and "Help me unwind". as she thought I looked worn off. Unwinding, sure. I tried to smile.
   So many ponies at the store, and so little reason to be sad, or happy, or feel anything at all. Really... I thought they were all happy for <span style="text-decoration: underline;">no good reason</span>, like how I'm all sad for no good reason.
   <span style="color: red;">Is this a contradiction?</span> No! There is no reason to feel whatsoever. The p-zombies are right.
   

6. #6diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   1012-03-03
   ~~Fuck~~ this I need a holiday.
   ~~Fuck fuck fuck~~
   But what the ~~fuck~~ does a holiday fix??
   It will all be alright if she replies...
   At least until the next reply!
   Why is nopony online??
   <span style="color: red;">It won't.</span>
   <span style="color: red;">Cause it's 1 am</span>
   ~~Shut the fuck up~~
   Rainbow Dash is a ~~fucking~~ cloud head.
   Can somepony really be satisfied kicking balls on weekends and pulling levers on weekdays? All those medals are cool and all but does it really matter to anypony except a few fans on their days off?
   Sports is such a weird thing. I don't get it. It looks almost religious to me. How they shout and scream and speak in tongues and pray for miracles. Where in the brain is the sports center? Perhaps right next to the temporal lobe of theology...
   [ On the left page, there's a red sketch of a cat-like pony with the letters A, T, C floating next to it. On the right page, a dark scribbled-out section hides aggressive thoughts followed by casual venting. ]
   

7. #7diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   Applejack is... so down to earth I swear she has never experienced weightlessness. Not even on roller coasters. Even if she goes on a roller coaster, she will just feel gravity as normal. That's my headcanon, about how down-to-earth is she-even physics bows down to her aura of earthliness.
   Anyway... She seems born to live, laugh, and labor.
   [ There is a small doodle of an apple (representing Applejack) with the words "Live, Love, Labor, Laugh". Below it, a mathematical-looking equation "Aⁿ = L.L.L.L". is written in blue. ]
   How curious. Why am I like this?
   "Why r u so depress'd"
   ~~since~~ she lost her temper once at me. Like, as if I'm a worm chewing on her and wasting her time with useless sorrows. Perhaps I'm a blight. No, I'm not.
   Blight is infections, but others can hug me and still be happy... and symmetrically, I can get hugged and still feel sad.
   AJ, anyway... she prefers to work. The farm will decay one day, but that is literally not ~~relen~~ something that worries her. Like...
   - Don't you see? The farm will decay one day.
   - Not today, or tomorrow, or as long as I live.
   - But eventually...
   - E-ventual-ly is for e-ventual-ponies! Why do you keep yammering about things that don't matter for us?
   - Because I can't escape the <span style="font-size: 1.2em;">👁</span>
   - Whips me with her hat (or at least, I thought she'd do that.) Darnit. "I've trees to plant, bugs to kill, and budgets to plan. You think too much, and work too little. Find a hobby or something... or a hubby I guess... ya'know".
   [ Near the bottom right, there is a claustrophobic drawing of black eye (👁) ]
   

8. #8diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   Rarity ♥ <span style="color: red;">lol, fancy font</span>
   Is really not that different from AJ, even if stylistically opposite. She works hard and achieves some ~~little~~ big fame, and that is all just fine with her.
   She is probably going to find a nice stallion and just settle down and manage her brand from some high office in ~~Manehattan or Canterlot~~ wherever. Literally whatever.
   Last time she hanged out with us we had some ~~spy~~ spa stuff then went to the park... I felt bored. She ~~wer~~ was talking about fashion cycle and business then started describing some romcom plot I guess. Really can't tell if real or not.
   With her, ~~it's all~~ sadness is just a plot device, ~~on the~~ 1/3 of the progress bar to the Happy ever after
   

9. #9diary pageconstantselectiveregex

   Fluttershy is... fine, yeah. Social anxiety and panic attacks, but she's getting there.
   It's not a problem of philosophy. If you look into the ICD-10, there is F41.9 and F32.A, but there is no such thing as a code for "Involuntary fixation on the Eye of Eternity" or "Nystagmus, Nihilist subtype".
   Besides, what can they possibly fix me with? Lobotomy? Fitting my head with a book of inspirational quotes until I smile an idiotic grin?
   I was at the animal shelter one day... I saw cats with one, two, three legs.
   I saw dogs with zero, one, two eyes. ~~I~~ She mixed meds and water and I helped her with putting trays into the cages.
   I felt distant. We then went to a pet cafe, and I tried petting each kind of animal there... rabbit, duck, cats, even an alpaca (lol).
   I felt... nothing. The fur and the prickly hair flowed over my hoof, and... nothing.
   No joy or warmth or ~~the~~ strength to live refilled.
   What am I supposed to feel anyway??
   That was the last time I went to a pet cafe.
   

10. #10diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Twilight... oh Twilight. Her sweetness is painful to bear. How can this last long?
    I don't believe it. She is the sun and I am the shadow. I want to die with her but she is too important to die with an irrelevant thing that I am.
    ~~Why did she have to~~ together
    I want to die with her 4ever & ever &
    I want to die with her ever & ever &
    I want her to die with me ever & ever &
    I want her to die with me ever & ever &
    I want to go down together ever & ever &
    I want to die with her ever & ever &
    I want to go down with her ever & ever & ever &
    [ On the right page is a black sketch of a framed portrait with a ribbon on top, resembling a funeral photograph. Inside the frame is a sketch of smiling Pinkamena eyes closed, with detailed hair flowing down. The frame and background are roughly shaded, emphasizing the contrast between the drawing and the character within the frame. ]
    

11. #11diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-03-05
    Should have gone to bed earlier.
    Woke up with a throbbing headache at 20, called in sick, then passed out again.
    Messaged back and forth with Twi about the breakdown. I don't know what to do!
    Getting older day by day. Therapy doesn't help me...Freudian, CBT, ~~fu~~ dielectric, whatever. Even love is not enough anymore.
    I typed, waited, heard a message beep, repeat.
    I stared at the ceiling, and saw chairs crisscrossing the air, a labyrinth with no walls.
    [ At the bottom left, there is a drawn labyrinth with thick black lines. Below it, the caption reads "labyrinth with walls". To its right, there is an empty space with the caption "with no walls". ]
    The world was created to say that I'm lost.
    The empty ceiling is a desert, ~~with~~, a labyrinth that I ~~ear~~ will die in.
    I think Twi is worried about me... again. She deserves better.
    ``
    

12. #12diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-03-09
    My birthday is approaching... Should do something about it. Party, I guess.
    It's just so much work... When are they going to get the "golem that can be happy for me" finished?
    <span style="color: red;">Fun fact: Seeing your double-self is a premonition for death.</span>
    Why not? If I see my double-golem, then die, that'd be good - the golem can live happily and I can stop living in agony.
    

13. #13diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-03-17
    At work, I fantasized about death again.
    Almost lost a batch of cupcakes from over-setting.
    Must control myself.
    Over there I could see the roof-edge, glistening with gold as the sun over passes.
    I can hold a bouquet to the world that I could not hate, despite it all.
    [ At the bottom of the page, there is a black ink sketch of a Pinkie Pie standing on the edge of a building, holding a bouquet outstretched. Arrows point toward the rooftop edge, possibly indicating jumping. Below, a faint red hoof reaches up toward the falling bouquet. ]
    

14. #14diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-03-20
    I wonder how much time it takes for somepony to lose consciousness after head is cut off. 5 seconds?
    Twi said I think too much bad thoughts.
    [ There are several red sketches on this page. One is a scribbled-out section labeled "can't control your mind".
    [ Another shows a pony's head with a dotted line and the words "CUT HERE" written beside it, with an arrow pointing to a guillotine-like blade. A power drill is drawn in red with the caption "drill here". ]
    [ Below this, a diagram of a segmented pony figure is labeled "carving nature at its joints". Text nearby says "nature nurture torture". ]
    

15. #15diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-01
    Something feels wrong.
    Something is wrong.
    Something is wrong
    Something is wrong
    Something is wrong
    Something is wrong.
    I don't understand...
    [ Below this text, there is a red spiral with a question mark beneath it. ]
    

16. #16diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-07
    Twi looked disappointed. I can't deny it.
    I promised to cut less for her sake.
    I thought right there was the end of our relationship, and that realization was like a bullet train rushing through ear-to-ear.
    Why she wanted to keep saving me if I'm not able to be "saved" by their standards?
    I cried in shame.
    

17. #17diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-08
    Twi spent the day with me. To keep me safe, so she says. Therapy again. Pointless, but Twi gave me a choice.
    Well is it a choice if it is made under duress?
    <span style="color: red;">Duress of love!</span> SHUT THE FUCK UP!!
    Either I go to therapy or the relationship is over. What a fucking joke my life has become.
    [ Below this text, there is a two-option decision matrix with columns labeled "breakup" and "continue" and rows labeled "refuse therapy" and "go to therapy". Each cell has checkboxes filled in, suggesting an inescapable outcome. ]
    [ To the right, there is a branching decision tree with "accept" and "refuse" leading to "continue" or "breakup," annotated with "DOESN'T WORK" in purple ink, followed by crossed-out marks. ]
    [ At the bottom of the page, there is a red and blue wavy diagram ]
    <span style="color: red;">"lol that's a potato chip"</span>
    SHUT UP CAN'T U BE SERIOUS FOR ONE FUCKING DAY
    <span style="color: red;">OK. I know. It's the Saddle point.</span>
    Think what?
    <span style="color: red;">Really, you think so?? That the game has a saddle point.</span>
    Uh... ~~he~~ yeah I mean... NO! Love can't be a zero-sum game.
    <span style="color: red;">So why did you draw it that way?</span>
    Because she forced me into it.
    Because I forced her into forcing me.
    Reflection upon reflection
    ↺ and ↻ and ↺ until
    it all collapses in a finite time singularity and nothing can continue after that...
    I want it to stop
    I want to truncate the singularity away...
    [ At the center of the page, there's a red and pink chaotic triangle-like sketch with collapsing points. ]
    

18. #18diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-13
    The therapist was... okay. She went through the usual list of things, like how she must keep it secret ~~until we~~ unless she thinks I would kill myself or shit like that. Lol, as if I'm going to do that <span style="color: red;">do what?</span> tell her, obviously. ~~When~~ If I die, I am going to do it quietly and plannedly.
    It's almost my birthday already. I'm hating it more and more each year. Like the funeral bell tolling.
    "I feel a funeral in my brain and mourners to and fro -"
    <span style="color: red;">~~You don't need a party popper; you pop your own party!~~</span>
    SHUT THE FK UP
    

19. #19diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-15
    I sent out the party invitations. Who the heck would want to come anyway... My friends, sure. Friends' friends, and so on to the last name of recorded earth...
    [ A semicircular diagram showing letters "AJ, RD, PDP, TS, RR, FS" as gravestones. Below it reads in red: <span style="color: red;">and all of earth is one large cake and all gravestones are its candles</span>. ]
    my friends'-friends'-friends'-friends, and onwards to the end...
    [ Beneath is a purple star-shaped diagram with dot connections, labeled: "and still we all are alone with our own thoughts".]
    

20. #20diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-18
    Another stupid day of work. No thoughts come to head. Great.
    It's terrible to have so much thought but no way to swat them off.
    ○ ⊗ ⊕ ⊖ ⊗ ⊘ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⊗ ⨀
    ⊘ ahh it's so good to have no thoughts at all for once! Even that stupid <span style="color: red;">voice</span> is gone.
    EMPTY empty EMPTY $ $ $ $ ⎯⎯⎯ EMPTY
    [ Below this is a simple square labeled: FIG. The brain of P.D.P. recovered from brainwaves. ]
    Ahhahaha if this is what death feels like I'd never have turned back back then...
    If only I knew...
    The scars are healing well. Itchy little scabs.
    Blood in nails. Tastes good. Itchy scratchy stitch.
    [ At the bottom of the page, there is a red wavy line with numbers 11, 12, 14, 23 written beneath it. Lines appear to be the scalpels ]
    

21. #21diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-22
    Damn great. Birthday. I don't know if I should be happy or sad about the party.
    Over 20 ponies came. We were at Rarity's place as usual. She has money and penthouse for fancy things.
    AJ and FS designed some party games. Then TS had a brief speech about how ~~hounored~~ honored she is to be my friend, cheesy.
    RD got blackout drunk on hard cider and puked, then immediately recovered. WTH
    She must be 80% liver.
    If somepony makes her into a pie, it would be liver pie, and anyone eating that would get vitamin poisoning.
    [ On the right page, there are two sketches:
    1. A blue sketch labeled RD's organs (to scale) showing a pony outline with highlighted internal organs.
    2. A pie chart labeled - brain, others, heart, liver - with most of the chart shaded in purple for liver. ]
    AJ mopped up the puke as fast as she could.
    RR fainted (or was that just an act?) and woke up a few secs later.
    Whatever. We had strawberry blueberry cream cake. I preferred some potato chips.
    Anyway, after the puke, it kind of made some guests want to leave. Soon there were 10, then 6.
    There was some cake left. I packed some chips. I didn't feel like more sweets...
    I would be sad no matter how many guests anyway.
    1? oh no I'm all alone.
    2? Oh no I'm almost all alone.
    10? I bet they are here for meeting their other friends~ anyway.
    20? I bet next year they would not come.
    30? I am CERTAIN it will all go downhill from now on.
    I wish we have a time-amber. Freeze all of it on one day. No more of past and future.
    No more ~~agi~~ birth, aging, sickness, death.
    <span style="font-size: small; color: gray;">it's so tiring. Tiring.</span>
    A music box perfectly repeating 4ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever & ever...
    Writing it 10000000 times is not the same as literally a circular time...
    [ At the bottom, there is a drawn circle with an arrow looping back on itself. To its side is written: is better than ➔ ➔ ➔ ]
    

22. #22diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Getting kind of sick of sweets. When I was a filly I thought heaven is a big land where the sunshine is orange juice, the river is lemonade, the grass is frosting, the soil is apple crumbles, the pebbles are granola bits, the trees are laden with muffins and cakes...
    It has been years since I am in the land of milk and honey, and all things sweet.
    It's not as tasty as I thought.
    Sometimes I wish I were somepony else.
    Maybe a mathematician like that classmate thought she'd become. She killed herself on the last day of class... ~~She gav~~ I still have that scalpel she gave me once. Probably super rusted now.
    [ Below this, a mathematical formula is written in blue ink: ]
    <span style="color:blue;">pinkam ^e na d(i)ane π = Ø</span> ← If I became a mathematician.
    Maybe a mortician. If baking all day makes me sick of baked goods <span style="color:red;">you mean... baked BADS???</span> then morticianing all day would probably make me sick of dying and want to live... But again, if staying alive is already the full-time job of literally everypony alive, wouldn't it mean everypony must be sick of living?!
    Maybe a princess. Sometimes I get lost in fantasy of another me in another place. I would be somepony important, save the world, become an immortal princess, and I guess spend the rest of my life writing tax codes and crushing the skulls of non-ponies, something like that.
    [ Below, in faint pink ink, there is a doodle of a sad-looking Pinkie Pie as alicorn with a crown, fanged smile, and tattered wings. Next to it, the text reads: PRINCESS DIANE PIE ]
    Maybe that fucking irreverent voice can take over or what.
    It keeps laughing at everything but leaves the hard work of... you know, ACTUALLY staying alive to me?!
    It's like my life is a big live-action comedy show, and it is the premium customer watching the show.
    I bet it won't be able to laugh if it were running the show.
    [ There is a light pink sketch of a Pie's head with another small Pinkie Pie inside her head. It's labeled underneath: Fig. The Pinkamena Show. ]
    That's all I guess.
    

23. #23diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-04-23
    I feel sick. I don't know why.
    Slept all day. Saw the inch of sunlight slowly creeping across the space between the curtains.
    Another stupid day. I felt like I have to do something, but what is the point? Stuck in a game of no importance, and wagering with ~~gold-colored~~ plastics.
    Twi said if I still feel sick she'd be here tomorrow, care for me.
    I'd love that.
    
    1012-04-24
    I am fucking healthy today.
    Fuck my life. Not a single qualia of nausea or pain.
    ~~ F U C K ~~
    

24. #24diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-01
    The therapist gave the medication options today. Saw my history of medicine. Somehow they invent medicine faster than I can try them out. This is hope - for Twi and the scientists.
    I know there is no hope for me.
    [ On the right, there is a simple sketch of a grid with points marked on it. Dotted lines and "X" marks show failures, while circles and lines seem to show attempts or connections ]
    If every month I can try one med, but they come out with two, I'll never be able to prove I'm beyond helping. Is this hope? Yes, for THEM.
    
    1012-05-04
    Twi and I fought. Then I realized it was the end, and then I was sobbing and apologizing for everything that has happened and would happen eventually. It was ugly.
    She forgave me, of course.
    [ On the left bottom corner, there's a drawing of a Twilight with jagged crown. A red mark, possibly a heart, is drawn on her chest. ]
    I stole a piece of her heart and scream and make a mess of myself when I'm caught.
    It's so stupid. But she is ~~all~~ still mostly what I live for. I wish she could stop feeling so happy. Then we will never need to see ourselves become strangers.
    

25. #25diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-08
    Why does the sun still come up? We are all already dead. We are the echoes of a future extinction, moving back in time.
    [ On the top center, there's a red and black sketch depicting a web-like net with a black spider sitting at the center. ]
    Space and time is the web of a great black spider. The little nuggets of happy events are the sticky saliva of it.
    The more we are happy, the tighter we are caught in this giant sprawling net.
    We should stop looking for happiness, and start looking for a way OUT.
    I have an idea.
    I'll get that book tomorrow, or the day after. Whenever, really. No rush.
    

26. #26diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-09
    Nice, it's still in stock.
    My last copy was almost found out.
    I had to throw it out of the window.
    Ugh, if I died back then it'd have saved me a whole lot of trouble.
    I remember the newspaper was all about the "pernicious corruption" of this book, like please.
    Well, the book should be here in 3 days...
    I'll write notes on what the book says. Maybe I'll learn some new ideas!
    [ Below, there is a sketch of a Pinkamena with an exaggerated "dramatic eye roll" expression, labeled with blue text: dramatic eye roll and pernicious corruption. Below the text are small doodles of icons: a noose, syringe, triangle, hourglass, and a pill bottle. ]
    

27. #27diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-11
    It's here!!!
    Introduction
    The book is a
    "euth. machine in text"
    haha. Words are dangerous.
    A long vacation
    ~~sure~~, from my thoughts.
    [ Below this is a circular diagram labeled with time-related words: "day, week, month, year" and "again and again..." It has arrows looping repeatedly around it. ]
    Who the hell wrote that stupid note in the margins??
    If suicide hurts so much then we should invent smoother ways to die!!
    Stupid shit getting cause & effect all opposite.
    [ A box contains a poorly drawn diagram reading: Suicide hurts → don't do it → make it hurt less → ✅ with the label at the bottom: Fig. Pinkamena fixing the dumb logic for you. ]
    <span style="background-color: black; color: white;">Turn off the TV and sit in absolute dark!</span>
    [ There is a drawing of a matrix-like grid with marks "X", "SUICIDE M", "ROS", "GSIK" . path to SUICIDE is connected ]
    Cool game,
    <span style="color:red;">but can be better</span>
    oh, I know what you mean!!
    [ Next drawing of the same matrix-like grid with all marks now "SUI. P" ]
    <span style="color:red;">Perfect</span>
    ~~980~~ 0978-09-05 H & M forever
    <span style="color:red;">... & ever?</span> & ever & ever & ever & ever!
    "Suicide is an active act"
    Yeah, for real. The suicide machines aren't coming. We have to do it ourselves.
    

28. #28diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Overdose
    OK, this book is really out of date...
    Half of the drugs here are off the market and the other half we're gonna need two waitlists and months of work just to get.
    [ Below, a light blue sketch shows a pony chugging out bowl of pills ]
    Not to mention the dose guide is going to differ this much from pony to pony, and that ~~none~~ I'm going to puke it all out probably.
    Vein injection..?
    Really now.
    I don't wanna die ~~fa~~ as an air-head.
    [ To the side is a messy colorful scribble labeled: "my room after me trying overdose" <span style="color:red;">haha</span> it's real art. Below it: <span style="color:red;">when you try overdose on Skittles</span> or RD's tail lol".]
    Risuron-S ...what even is this brand??
    Well, the translator didn't do a great job turning the drug names into local names.
    Whatever. It's not like I'll use this method anyway.
    Brovanin case studies. Case 2 is cool really. Scientifically minded death.
    Barbitals! Those were popular a century ago. Can't get them anymore. Except FS, & she can get barbitals for vet work on the largest animals.
    If only she is suicidal like me! Then we can die together. Hoofholding as the world ends for us together.
    [ Two chemical structures are sketched in blue. Pink hoof and yellow hoof are holding together ]
    <span style="color:red;">"Aren't you dying with Twi?"</span>
    She's not dying. I got to take my second best.
    Though even that is only a fantasy...
    

29. #29diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Deadly cigarette soup nicotine overdose.
    Really?? Cigarette. Soup. Cigarette. Soup.
    [ A pot labeled "soup" is sketched in brown, with a pinkish substance inside. ]
    Gasoline?? Who drinks gasoline??
    Oh, I know!
    That golem who's happy for me!
    It can drink gasoline for me!
    [ A drawing of a pony-like figure with a big smile is labeled: "Yum, gasoline". It features jagged lines, messy shapes, and eyes resembling stars. ]
    Drinking a kg of hair perm? Are you crazy?
    This chapter is dumb!!! Ahhh!
    2 kg of soy sauce?? 500 g of pure salt?
    That's it! I'm skipping to the next chapter.
    Hanging and some bonus material on suffocation.
    Nothing much to say here. Hanging is fast, and simple. I don't need a whole chapter to know that, lol.
    Suffocation case studies are funny.
    Who the heck suffocated by eating tissue paper.
    Two cases??
    

30. #30diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Jumping. Finally something nice.
    I have since many years ago dreamed of being a pegasus. Not in the sense of metaphor. I literally dream of it.
    In sleep. Often I am somepony like RD, and I would fly faster than wind, way up high, then dive straight down, and pull horizontal at the very last moment.
    I wish RD were suicidal, then we can have a nice last journey around the world, and when our hooves are too tired to continue, we will jump off the highest tower we can get to.
    We will grip each other's hood and watch the ground zoom in. Or we can look at each other and burnish the smile into our brains.
    [ Two interwoven purple and blue spirals are lightly sketched, depicting twisting movement downward. ]
    Wouldn't it be funny if memories survive the splatting of the brain?
    Or funnier: If practicing the art of memory Very hard, you can keep your brain from rotting.
    That mathematician friend I had. She died like this. Once she said to me, as if a joke:
    "If I do it, I'd do it in the middle of class. I would avoid hitting somepony else this way".
    She really meant it after all.
    Blah blah... over 10 floors... yeah right.
    She died with 5 floors. Lucky I guess.
    No, really. Live on happily or die with bliss.
    Jumping and surviving is just ugly.
    Undead, unlive, ugly. Life is beautiful for some, and death is beautiful for others. Undead is ugly for all.
    So, do it well or not at all.
    Do or ~~die~~ live!
    Wow, somepony really survived falling off a plane? Even if it's because of snow...
    It probably looked like this on the snow.
    [ A light blue sketch of a pony-shaped impact in the snow is drawn beneath this sentence. Accompanying it is written: <span style="color:red;">This hole! It was made for ~~me~~</span> no. Dumb joke". ]
    "Beware of pedestrians!"
    Yes, as I was saying, she knew that, which is why she chose mid-class.
    "What is the sound of falling?"
    Japanese really has a lot of sound words.
    I say it's probably like balloons of water.
    Friends are like balloons. If you stab them, they explode.
    

31. #31diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    Okay, this case is a bit funny. Somepony went to the mountain and then decided to live. Could not get down, and shaking all night in the damp cold.
    [ A sketch of two ponies inside a heart-shaped outline is below. In light blue text, it says: "Let's go to heaven together".. they resemble Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie ]
    The maps are so outdated now.
    Really, who cares which floor that thing is in anyway?
    Cutting
    OK, yeah, not going to work well.
    Pretty? Can be. Deadly? Can be.
    Emphasis on "can".
    Fluttershy said that she have tiny cuts on the flap of skin near the root of her right wing, because it's easily reachable with left hoof, and because nopony would see that patch, since it's hidden well.
    [ there is a small sketch of Fluttershy with her wings spread, labeled "retract wings to hide". Lots of angry red lines at the base of wing ]
    You know it's a Japanese book when it has Seppuku in it.
    The author reasonably said: "This method is ridiculous. It has 100 bads and 0 goods".
    Somepony died after tripping over a broken ceramic bowl? Weird. Is the neck so easy to pierce?
    

32. #32diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    By vehicle
    No no no no no
    No no I will not traumatize somepony else no no no no no no no
    Subways? Oh this is definitely not relevant here. They might as well talk about funiculars.
    Why is the "jumping into a volcano" thing here? Is this a joke?
    Why would you want to become instant popcorn?
    Twi actually said something about it once.
    An ancient philosopher who did that to claim he would become a god. Something dumb like that. Earth to fire to water to air and such.
    ... Okay I take it back. The double-suicide story at that volcano sounds great.
    Me and Twi can be double popcorn.
    Would it taste like strawberry, blueberry, or what? I'm sick of sweets but I guess my dead body would be 80% sugar, already marinated on the job.
    [ On the right page, there is a red sketch of a volcano, with squiggly lines at the top representing lava or steam. ]
    Oh wow, this method. When it's literally fire. Maybe for some kind of protest, but I'm not on some kind of protest. The world turns on its own, and our actions bump into it, but only in different directions as what we hope for.
    You push up, they push left, and the world turns and tumbles in an infinite darkness. If you force a spinning ball to turn around its East, it will instead nod to its Front/Back. This is what gyroscopes do.
    [ A small, scratched drawing of a clock or a spinning gyroscopic circle with arrows surrounds it in purple and soft strokes. ]
    If you are perfectly machine-like, you can suppress your urge to push this way, and push that way instead.
    But who can be like that?
    [ Top-right doodle shows a serpent-like pony scribbled in red, next to a small box with "I CAN TURN and TURN". Below is written lightheartedly in small letters: "Yeah, you. You can turn the world for me!" ]
    

33. #33diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    And the last case, someone who died to earn insurance money for his family. Isn't this insurance fraud?
    In any case, I don't like my family. Just... no. If my death can earn money for the real friends, I guess I'm okay with it. But again, it's not covered by insurance.
    That's a funny thought to end the book on. Insurance is basically a gamble.
    You bet you will die early, and the company bets you will die late. Suicide is also a gamble. You bet that life is going to be worse than no-life.
    If we turn suicide into a gamble, then what plays the role of the other side?
    That other side must be the side that profits if life will be better than no-life.
    ... Parents? Friends? Your will to live?
    Hard to think. It's not something that can be betted on. It's similar to an insurance that pays out only when the sun explodes. Nobody would be around to collect the profit.
    Still, if it is possible for life to be worse than no-life, someone must profit, even if that someone does not exist...
    See this is why philosophy is dumb.
    Wow, it's almost morning??
    I really must control my sleep schedule.
    yawns
    [ Below the text is a drawing of a Pinkamena yawning with a sleepy expression. She is next to a box labeled "ZZZZZ". ]
    

34. #34diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-13
    Yesterday was short and so was today.
    I had a headache that made it hard to think anything, not even of the end of headache.
    In the six stages of samsara, it's said that the animals are smart enough to know they suffer, but dumb enough to not know that suffering can end, that there is such a thing as enlightenment.
    [ On the right side, there is a simple red sketch of a rabbit with a surprised expression, a "?!", and text beside it saying "cute but dumb". ]
    I was like that. I'm scared that it will be like that eventually, forever.
    Like, I will still suffer, but they will finally find the right/wrong drugs and words to keep me alive.
    They will say I'm cured.
    and I will nod like a bucket on a waterwheel.
    "Are you cured?"
    - Glg–yes–nod-glg–yes–nod–
    [ In the middle of the page, there is a drawing of a waterwheel in brown, featuring Pinkamena hanging from its spoke. ]
    That is a cool picture.
    If only I invented it back then. Ponies will be talking about the Curse of Waterwheel than the Samsara. Whatever. I kinda want to start a new religion. I'll be the enlightened one!
    And our rituals are basically watching a ~~wat~~ waterwheel made like that. We would make jokes about how the Samsara plagiarized us retro-cassually. Then we will bring out the Holy Screwdriver and unscrew the axis of the wheel.
    It will splash and get us all wet, then we will roll on the floor and laugh and then eat a giant pizza shaped like a waterwheel.
    Truly a religion for the modern time.
    

35. #35diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-18
    Twi was angry at me. I could see it in her eyes. She was going to lose hope in us. Well, I can't deny it. By her goals, she has a great purpose in life and has to eject me if I would otherwise drag her down.
    What can I look forward to, anyway?
    A long and slow decline, a footnote to a footnote (if lucky). When I grew up I wanted to be a Princess. I wanted to be a real one. Not the political ones. The ones that turn the stars and heavens, that are incarnations of Fundamental Forces.
    Permanent disappointment follows.
    I hate mirrors. I'm so ugly, and growing uglier every day.
    I don't have wings or horns. Am I really supposed to be okay with a life of baking, watching bread rise, balance two ~~rows~~ columns of numbers, and other dumb things like that?
    Or foals. Ugh, I hate foals.
    I mean, foals are fine, I hate raising foals. Many are happy to devote to foalraising. Fine for them, I guess.
    But I didn't ask to be born. I cannot continue this cycle of abuse.
    I am not supposed to be me.
    I don't know what else to say.
    I should have been the child of a tiger and a shark, and I will scale the heavens by clawing my way across the shining rivets, until I have reached the giant unblinking eye.
    I will open my jaw for ten billion years at the fastest speed (of light), then bite down.
    No more of the Eye.
    [ At the bottom of the right page, there is a sketch of a monstrous creature with a long jaw. A red figure resembling a pony holds the jaw open, standing on the creature's surface. The drawing is chaotic. ]
    

36. #36diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-24
    I got new crayons! Yeee
    For test: a big cutie.
    [ page features a crayon drawing of a Twilight Sparkle, smiling happily. ]
    <span style="color:gray">Colored pencils still feel better though.</span>
    Anyway. The week went by... again.
    When I was a filly, days went by longer than it takes for a half-polished rock to roll from one furlong of soil into another. Now that seems different.
    Why is that? Is it because I'm stuck with repeating days, repeating activities, repeating thoughts?
    And if everything repeats, a day and a month would feel no different.
    How am I supposed to feel different, anyway?
    Everyday a little more of the futures are snipped away, and the future converges fatefully to the exact 1×2×2 cube of earth in which I am in.
    I want to be a princess, forever school, forever filly.
    Growing up is a very bad deal. Calling it good is like sour grapes.
    So what if I can intoxicate and impregnate and all that stupid things?
    I want a refund! I never ordered these! waves at the body Refund! Now! ...
    [ The right page shows a red, messy crayon sketch of a floating balloon tied to an "X" on the ground - tense and symbolic. ]
    It's hard to think straight. Thinking is not just about having clever ideas, but also quiet room in the head. The bad ideas must stay quiet too.
    My head is echoing all... the thoughts.
    If only everything can ⏸️ for just a day. I just keep tumbling ever forward into the future, always not ready.
    

37. #37diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-05-31
    Terrible day, as usual.
    I can't take another day like this.
    All my suffering. Can't take them out. Can't liquify them. Can't catch its vapors. Yet real.
    How am I supposed to keep this up? For what?
    If Twi isn't coming I guess I have to do it alone.
    It's a dilemma. A contradiction. A monster. A joke of nature. A living thing struggling to leave.
    Imagining. Space-time is a giant spiderweb. A great black spider is creeping towards you. You are caught on the web, and you are suffering. Shaking, struggling, crying, as the spider crawls closer.
    Now suddenly, a pair of scissors appeared before you.
    [ On the right page, there is a drawing of a blue spider web with a pink silhouette of a pony caught in it. The web is cylindrical and funnel-like. The scissors are drawn in simple black lines near its edge. ]
    You can take the pair and snip yourself off, tumbling into the most empty vacuum, where even thought and time is emptied away.
    Or you can keep shaking, and feel the murmuring teeth of the Great Black Spider march slowly through your body until you are nothing but a cell of the Spider.
    The spider is called History.
    [ Page features a drawing of a large, ominous black spider with sharp angles and a hollow-looking body. It has text surrounding it - You are nothing I eat nothing The Great Black Spider ]
    

38. #38diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-05
    I can't I can't I can't.
    Everyday is pain. This is damn stupid.
    Cotard's Delusion is when somepony believes she's dead but is not.
    It is funny because they also become insensitive of pain, because "I'm dead. I can't be in pain - duh -!"
    I'd like a bit of that.
    [ Below the text is a sketch of the Pinkie Pie faintly smiling with. Above her head are soft, red marks radiating like a halo. Her throat and body are pierced by numerous black thorns. The text next to her reads: <span style="color: red;">Shh... it's okay. She has never been alive after all.</span> All were merely the swerve of atoms in the <span style="font-size: larger;">O</span> void ]
    

39. #39diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-08
    At work. Accident. Imaginations growing harder to control. I see ponies with skulls on the back ~~to~~ of their heads.
    I see flaming incinerators and bone ashes in ovens. I dropped the pan of batter in shock. I had to make a new batch. The pan was scratched.
    Why is it all... so stupid?
    The land of living is already turning into death in my vision.
    I wake up, see nothing, then the new day resolves into something. The spider belches, another stack of newspapers it has just eaten. I hate this.
    I don't want to feed the spider.
    [ The left page includes a faint pencil sketch of a spider looming overhead with sharp legs and an unsettling presence. To the side, there is a small purple drawing of a folded newspaper labeled "News". ]
    

40. #40diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-09
    I broke down at work. Probably scared a few customers.
    I have a long holiday now.
    I cried all my way home.
    Who cares if I lose my job?
    Who cares if I rot alone?
    The spider is omnivorous.
    The spider is omnipresent.
    The spider is omnivalent.
    The spider is omniscient.
    

41. #41diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-14
    At therapy. New medication. I don't think it will help. Stupid. Twilight was there. She was so worried.
    I felt distant. How did the world move so far away? I feel as if the world has shifted by 1 meter in the 5th dimension and now I'm a phantom, a shadow on the world brane.
    Everypony ignores me.
    I ignore everypony.
    [ The left page includes faint, black net-like structure, and a red outline of a pony lying down below ]
    <span style="color: red;">Except me.</span> Even you. You are not real either, only a different mood.
    A different color. The same feeling of...
    <span style="color: red;">It's okay. I love you.</span> Ha, ha, ha.
    <span style="color: red;">Pretend it's real.</span> Fine. What do you say?
    <span style="color: red;">I love you and I will listen. I understand since you are me.</span> Desires. Want to hear mine?
    <span style="color: red;">Of course.</span> No judgment?
    <span style="color: red;">None.</span>
    [ A heart-shaped pencil sketch dominates the page, with two ponies nestled inside, one in purple and one in gray. Together, they are surrounded by the words: Love yourself. ]
    I want to be a princess forever, living on the rock farm forever no parents, no siblings no, just rocks and numbers and rows upon rows of long high antennas beaming into the night sky playing the ionosphere like a theremin. The school never graduates. The teachers never retire.
    The students never get older. The homeworks are never over. It only gets more and more involuted.
    I never need to prove myself existent.
    History is dead. Spider is gone.
    I exist, you exist, in the eternal NOW. The Eye is blind.
    [ there is a color illustration of a line of antennas stretching into the distance, sketched faintly in pencil and surrounded by colorful streaks resembling a soft aurora. Some antennas have connecting lines. ]
    Forever is mine and mine only.
    The aurora is my mane and the antennas are my feathers and ~~harp~~ harpsicords. Forever. My classmates come every New Year's Eve to watch my harping. I can finally enjoy New Years since the years no longer matter.
    Years and centuries are only seasons and the rise & fall of a single breath.
    Forever. Forever and cycling and always the snow and the cloud and the cloudy skies. Memories are forecasts and predictions are chronicles.
    [ On the right page, there is a red sketch of a alicorn with wings spread wide, standing between curved red shapes resembling crescents. Around the crescents is written the word "forever" repeatedly in soft, looping text ]
    

42. #42diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-21
    Twi stayed with me all day. She is probably getting bored of me already.
    "It's repetitive to be sad" they say.
    Is being happy not equally repetitive?
    [ On the page, there is a faint blue pyramid-like cone containing fragmented thoughts written in blue crayon, resembling descending steps of increasing hopelessness. It says:
    "princess Twilight others me dug eat unsee live plunt somepony I don't have rocks how am I supposed to fill all the Space It's a scala Nature and we can go down forever until nothing is left" ]
    See, to be happy is to be in a happy place, which is pretty much the same place. How else do ponies manage to stay "happily married" for decades? Don't they get bored?
    No - they are repeating the same good day. That is boring, but pleasantly boring.
    But seriously, I fear that the "happily bored together" isn't going to work out with me & Twi.
    We are going to fall apart. I fall apart from everypony in the end.
    So why is that? No idea. It just seems like I keep falling away from ponies.
    Remember elementary school's best friend? You ~~got tryi~~ to stay in touch, but you fell apart. That helpless falling away feeling is me with everypony.
    It's like the Big Rip is here for me, trillions of years ahead of schedule.
    When we met first in high school, she captivated me with her strength and talent, but why did she choose me? It confuses me still. She should have picked some other pony, less depressed, more avid of life. All I'm good for is to draw, bake, dress pretty, stay affectionate (at least, pretend so)...
    I feel like she deserves better.
    My golem-substitute would be better. My golem would be fine with living and would not pester her with Hopeless requests of going to down together.
    going down
    no no no no no no
    It is hopeless
    Neg neg negative
    trapped by overlapping
    [ A chaotic scribble crosses over "trapped by overlapping". Next to it is a triangular shape enclosed by arrows labeled constraints. Below it reads: Trapped. Trap is my body. ]
    

43. #43diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-28
    on the street
    I saw it
    it saw me
    it was watching
    It is searching
    it is hunting
    seeking staring succeeding never blinking
    [ The right page shows a chilling black swirl drawn in jagged strokes, resembling a dark eye. At the center is a red spiral with outward arrows, creating an intense vortex effect. Below it, shadowy limbs emerge - clawed and surreal, alongside a curling snake-like tail. The text below reads: I saw <span style="color: red;">distorted runes</span> I see <span style="color: red;">same distorted runes but more oblique</span> ]
    

44. #44diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-06-30
    The psychiatrist said it's a depressive psychosis. It is cool whatever she calls it. The point is that I see what I feel, but I still know they are not really real.
    Lucid dreaming while awake, basically. Lucid waking.
    <span style="color: red;">What did you dream?</span>
    I see buildings dead for 300 years. Empty window sockets weeping gray dust, silicate tears.
    I see walking skeletons in a reverse-Cotard delusion.
    Dead but not knowing it.
    [ On the left page is a blue-drawn, skeletal building with hollow windows, faint and eerie in style. Below it, a pink sketch of a skeletal pony walks, thin and fragile]
    And I looked up and saw the eye staring...
    And I shut my eyes and saw it staring behind my eyelids...
    And I slept and saw it staring through the electric chatter of my V1 cortex...
    And I tasted the tongue of ashen eternity when Twi kissed me...
    It was all I could manage to not simply gag out of the horror...
    [ On the right page is a simplistic drawing of an eye. Its iris is composed of a swirling red spiral, surrounded by black scribbles ]
    How could she not smell the rotting flesh in my cheeks?
    At least the worms are fine. I ate lots of worms when I was a filly.
    Now the food looks like they have crawling worms in it again, but it tastes surprisingly nostalgic!
    [ On the page, there is a sketch of a pony smiling faintly. Surrounding her are colorful coiling worms. The colors include blue, pink, and yellow. ]
    I should do it once as a cool joke.
    See if they will laugh uncomfortably.
    

45. #45diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-07-05
    There is a throb, a buzz, a repeating drip-drip-drip in my skull.
    <span style="color: red;">Boring. Talk about somepony other than yourself. How about it?</span>
    Fine. I guess I can think about the future of my friends. I'm not going to be around to see their rest of lives, but I can see clearly how it'd go.
    They will mourn me, and keep doing that for at least three more years, but after that, who knows? They have more useful ways to occupy their minds.
    Anyway, here's to the future of the living.
    <span style="color: green;">🍎 Applejack Obvious, mechanize the farm. Tractors. Maybe a cider distillery. Probably several foals, raised not by her since she's got work to do and bits to make.</span>
    <span style="color: yellow;">🦋 Fluttershy Maybe some kind of shelter boss, zoologist, or just a shelter girl forever. She'd be fine with all of those.</span>
    <span style="color: cyan;">💎 Rarity Enter the high society as a new rich, but of exquisite taste. Then idk, become a family of hereditary fashion tsars.</span>
    [ Below the text, there's a drawing of three diamonds with "R & C Since 997" in a box that mimics branding or a family crest. ]
    <span style="color: blue;">🌈 Rainbow Dash Die in a sports competition and be given the gold medal posthumously. Like Arrhichion.</span>
    No, seriously. She should try that.
    It'll mean she'll go down in history as the legendary madmare who ~~died~~ even death could not stop ~~her~~ from winning.
    Some might say her life is the flat joke showing a shallow life dedicated to winning. She'll just laugh and win some more.
    Hard to imagine her accepting an old age, though.
    Maybe she'll see that dying is a better plan.
    [ there is a small drawing of a laurel wreath surrounding the letters "R.D". Below it reads: "Even death could not stop her from winning". ]
    <span style="color: purple;">✨ Well, if we were in that magical world, I feel she'd become a real princess.
    In our real world though, she'd have to settle for more worldly achievements.
    Perhaps a scientist, or a presidency.
    Hard to tell.</span>
    In any case, she would find some kind of irreducible value in me either if I lived or died. Optimists are like that. Heh.
    When she dies, the newspapers would report about it, with important ponies sending in important letters about the important things she did for the sake of love. Surely this is her enviable fate.
    "Why not do something you love?"
    "I could love to die with somepony I love".
    And the thought returns to the same dead-lock.
    Must solve this.
    

46. #46diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-07-13
    Here is another metaphor.
    Many ~~ponies~~ plants live on the same island.
    A fire burned down half of the island. The other half goes in.
    At first, the low brushes and grass, then the bamboos, then the small trees, then the big trees. The idea is that if I'm born too early or too late, there is no niche for me to be in.
    This is how I feel. I feel like I was misplaced. Like I should not be here. I look at my hooves and I cry. Why am I here? I do not want to stay. Let me go.
    It has been so many years. When will I finally be released? Again and again I pose the question. Why do I have to stay? For whom?
    

47. #47diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-07-20
    So what if I bleed out? It hurts more to handle my day than to cut my hooves. So what? The maze of words and logic always stops me. Again and again I try to prove the possibility and again and again they deny it in so many voices: angry, sympathetic, clinical, old, solemn, happy, exasperated, frustrated-
    Frustrated.
    That is the word.
    I feel unbearably frustrated. Suffer, alone, and never understood, never admitted as valid.
    I'm going to go mad.
    I can't take it anymore.
    Why does no pony accept myself.
    I don't want to keep it up. Life is not a responsibility or a duty. Why is it so hard to get it into their fucking SKULLS? I'M sick of it.
    Nopony believes me, nopony accepts me. Being dead is really what I want.
    If I can be that princess of eternal school then life would be alright, but as of this life I have, I don't want it. See, some ponies would hate the eternal school life, and so they get this "real" life that is very temporary. Good for them! For me... I want to leave this "real" life, just like how they would try to leave an eternal school life. Why are they right but not me? It's mad, crazy, frustrating.
    It's impossible to get them to understand if the uniqueness of reality depends on their NOT understanding it.
    Nopony understands. They all want to cure me, they want me to be happy with the life they believe in.
    I can't take it anymore, fuck fuck fuck punctuation fuck grammar.
    I just want somepony that gets it.
    Nopony does. They all turn away and decorate the life like a Potemkin village.
    I don't want to stick around. I don't want to grow old. ~~I don't want to grow up.~~ I don't want to justify my death.
    If I die, I die. Why do they keep saying it's stupid or a loss?
    Why does nopony UNDERSTAND?!
    [ The page ends with frantic scribbled writing and overlapping lines ]
    

48. #48diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-10-02
    Fuck it...
    Such a long time. I guess... just basically.
    I got sent to the psychiatric place for two months. Since the last entry, I was on the floor. Then Twi had the premonition to check on me, and of course, she would assume the worst when I didn't answer the phone. Crazy extrasensory.
    In any case. I don't know what to do anymore. Can't believe "failed to die" is now part of my life experience.
    Twi seems to be running out of patience. That much is certain. I feel the needle-like stares of her saying effectively, "You brought this to yourself". How do I stand up to the pro-life culture as ancient as the whole earth itself?
    I can't get it to listen, not with understanding.
    My apartment is tidier than when I was taken away. AJ said she did a little cleaning. Not a trace of the blood. Did it happen at all or was it a bad dream?
    The future in effect has been cancelled. I just need to make a proper announcement.
    When they hear about it, they will understand. There are hundreds of other examples for them to compare against.
    [ A faint sketch of stitches is drawn on the bottom of the second page. Next to it, a note reads: "The stitches are hard to see now. It was not a big cut after all". ]
    

49. #49diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-10-09
    Work... I feel surprised that they still allowed me to return after all that. So what, though.
    Can't we just cancel it all?
    Cancel the stars, cancel the sunrise.
    Cancel the burials. Cancel the atmospheric conventions. Cancel all of it.
    Reality calls sick today. It will not show up anymore.
    I can't find something still.
    How am I going to last till my next birthday?
    I feel so empty in the head. Kind of better than when it's so noisy.
    [ A faint drawing of a pony with droopy eyes and a tired expression is at the bottom of the page. ]
    Still, feels like I must fill it with... something... anxiety...
    

50. #50diary pageconstantselectiveregex

    1012-10-16
    I read about the loneliness epidemic.
    Looks somewhat like me. Still, I hang out often with the girls, and I still want to just quit.
    I think more than the loneliness is at issue here. What?
    <span style="color: red;">Phi-lo-so-phy~?</span>
    I'd say that if only it's a serious idea.
    The thing is hard to take as more than a post hoc justification ~~then~~.
    [ A sketch in the middle of the page. It shows a faintly drawn silhouette of a pony with shadowy shadings, outlined in pink. ]
    It only leaves, then, "a vague sense of unease or maybe, the aftertaste of a vague sad afternoon dream. Waking up with a headache".
    I only glimpsed the stranger's face fading from the visual-cortical noise.
    Why can't they see the world like me? Why can't I see like them?
    

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