Well, I can’t actually call it a part two without actually having a part one. So I suppose this an expansion of what I had already said.

Before I begin this post, I have to admit that I have committed blog adultery. I have decided to go ahead and buy another journal. And, this time I am actually writing in it. See, I have a thing about journals. Before I began blogging, I would use a journal all of the time for various reasons. Then it became wanting to use journals for specified reasons. The yellow for songs, the pink for personal. Then it just kind of blurred and I told myself that it was MY journal and I could put whatever I wanted to put in it. (Dammit.)

But, then I began blogging and while only four of my friends at a time ever read the damn thing and I wasn’t sure how many strangers ever read em because not many leave comments (a trend which has continued throughout the history of me blogging) I have just kind of let it go. Then came the year blog. That was fun. It was amazing because I really got things out. I think it’s the fact that I find it easier to type than to physically write anymore. Well–when I’m interested in a topic.


The title, yeah the title. Gotta get back to that. I have to tell you that I am hearing this speech in Ultron voice right now. I’ve been watching that movie non-stop. It makes me feel better to recite lines word for word perfectly. Also, I’ll watch Avengers later. SO, my diagnosis.

I had that assignment, the one where I had to think about the first time I felt different, because I was made to feel so? I remember feeling very emotional afterward as if having an ‘Ah ha!’ moment of clarity. And, it began to spawn really dark thoughts in my head about why people never liked me, even when I was a kid. Well, that was when the suicidal thoughts came back. Yes, I’ve had them. But, it’s not the way people think. I never wanted to kill myself. I don’t even want to die. I just sometimes really wonder if I had not existed, would the world go on without me. And, then I get sad because, well, the world goes on without me and I am alive. So, it’d be no different.

I’m sorry, that got really depressing really fast. None-the-less, remembering that incident which I have not illustrated here, I thought to myself that it was the origin of many things that have come for me. That one event traumatized me.

And, then a psychiatrist tells me: Diagnosis: PTSD.

I had thought that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was something only soldiers, doctors, nurses, firemen, cops, etc. get but I was wrong apparently. He said there was more to the diagnosis, but this is the base. It’s all I am willing to share.

Son of a bitch, I stumbled onto my diagnosis and didn’t even know it.

And now, for a  new song from Bangtan Sonyeondan