All Is Null

Dear, God

If anyone could hear my cries, it would be you.
All knowing, all powerful.
Dad tells me that God listens to children first.
Is that true?
I never want to write him as the bad guy. Just the true stories that sit in my head, and in my hands.
Dad had a brain injury in 1994. It wasn’t the same again. I was four years old. My life, and everything I knew. Gone. In.an.instant

(I keep hearing the buzzword: Demon-mode. That is the only way I can explain it)

Nothing stands in the path.
All is null.

Dear God, you are all knowing, all powerful. I believe you when you tell me that everything happens for a reason. I really do.

I hear two sources, one of divine light, and one of fear. I want to stick to the divine light for now.
I keep worrying about the days of darkness. Is that something a child should worry about?

My cousin started smoking. We are only ten years old. I’m told its bad for you, so I say no.

What is she dealing with?
She won’t tell me.
It must be bad.

She has migraines like me.

My Pastel Goth Life - DreamBook - I Need Advice - LyssaGal Studio

Dear Dreambook: I Need Advice

Journal Entry

☆ ★ ✦

~ What Are Friends Anyway? ~

Dear Diary,
So I talked to James online again today. He lives in the UK which is like… so far away but whatever, time zones don’t matter when you’re talking to someone who actually gets you, you know? We stayed up until like 3am my time talking about everything, music, movies, how much we both hate our schools. He sent me this mp3 of a band I’ve never heard of and it’s SO good. I wish he lived here. Or I wish I lived there. Anywhere but here basically.
But then something really weird and stupid happened with Lynn and now I’m just… I don’t even know.

I thought Lynn was my friend? Like my actual friend. And I thought that’s what friends did, they shared their other friends. That’s how you make MORE friends, right?? So I was looking at her AIM profile (which she posts publicly for everyone to see btw) and I saw she had this list of screennames of people she knows. So I added a couple of them because I figured if they’re Lynn’s friends, maybe they’d be cool to talk to too?

Well APPARENTLY that was like… the worst thing ever???

She got SO mad at me. She sent me this message being like “why are you adding MY friends, that’s so weird, I didn’t say you could talk to them.” And I’m just like… what? They were on your PUBLIC PROFILE. You literally posted them for everyone to see. How was I supposed to know that was off limits?

I don’t understand friend dynamics at all. Like seriously, someone needs to give me a manual or something because I keep getting stuff wrong and I don’t even know what I did.

Is it really that weird to add people your friends know? I thought that was normal. I thought that’s how social circles worked. But now Lynn is being all cold to me and I feel like I did something horrible but I don’t even understand WHAT.

Maybe I’m just not good at this whole… people thing. Maybe that’s why talking to James feels easier. We’re just online. There’s no unspoken rules I’m breaking because I don’t know they exist.

Whatever. I’m tired of trying to figure out what I did wrong all the time.

Going to bed now. Maybe tomorrow will make more sense.

~ Your Confused Goth, Luna ~

Current AIM away message:

“in a world of locked doors, the man with the key is king… or whatever” ~

Blog Tired Goth Life

Dear DreamBook: Entry #w/e: My Fear Had A Name

The Day Silence Spoke

Dear DreamBook, I thought I’d found my safe place again — the one from the first chapter, where the air smelled like sugar and sunlight. But today it was… wrong. The walls still stood where I left them, but their colors had been rinsed out, like someone washed my memories and forgot to add them back. My favorite blanket felt like paper. The air pressed against my skin like wet cloth. I wandered, telling myself it was still mine. But then I heard it. My own thoughts — except not in my voice. They came from the far corner, soft at first: I liked it here. This was mine. Then sharper: You’re too loud. Stop that. Don’t be weird. That’s when I saw her. She was me, but… melted at the edges, like my reflection in a puddle someone just stepped in. Her mouth moved wrong. Her eyes didn’t blink at the right time. She stepped forward, and I felt her shadow push against my ribs. She said her name. Just one name. I.am.Silence And I knew her. I had always known her. Suddenly I was back in my childhood home. The floor warm from summer sun. My sundress spinning in circles, dizzy and laughing. Then a voice — Stop that, you’re bothering people. And a wall began to build inside me. Brick after brick, until I could barely breathe. The Silence didn’t touch me. She didn’t have to. She only watched. And I stopped myself from twirling. My heart is not something you can step on, ~Me xo

Someones watching me - Pastel Goth Life - LyssaGal - Dear Dreambook(1)

Dear DreamBook, Someone’s Watching Me

Personal Log – CLASSIFIED

SYSTEM STATUS: MONITORED

PERSONAL LOG

USER ID: 7749-ALPHA SECURITY CLEARANCE: RESTRICTED

NOTICE: All entries are subject to automated surveillance and content analysis. Unauthorized thoughts may result in re-education. Your compliance is appreciated.

2087.08.06 – 23:47:31

THREAT LEVEL: MEDIUM

Journal Entry

August 11, 5:42 p.m.

Tonight the light came on again.

No sound. No flicker. Just… green.
Soft and still, like a breath held in the dark.

I didn’t move.
Didn’t cover it. Didn’t speak.

I just watched.

The glow touched the edge of my desk, lit up the rim of my teacup, caught a glint in my eye from the screen.
It stayed on for five full minutes.
Long enough to mean something.

I looked straight into it the whole time.
Not angry. Not scared. Just curious.
Like watching an animal through glass — unsure if it sees me, or if I’m the one in the cage.

Then, without warning, it clicked off.
5:47 p.m.
No trace it had ever been on.
No recording saved.
No explanation offered.

I sat there another ten minutes after. Still.
Listening. Thinking.

I wonder if they know I’m watching them too.

I don’t think this is about me going crazy.
I think it’s about someone hoping I do.

LOCATION: SECTOR 7-G, RESIDENTIAL BLOCK 449 STRESS: ELEVATED | COMPLIANCE: 94.7%

My Life As A Pastel Goth Sharp Edges Still Count As Survival

DreamBook Entry #100 Sharp Edges Still Count As Survival

💔

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 💕

Dear Dreambook, I Am Not The R-Word

I heard it again today.

The R-word.

Thrown at me like gum under a desk. Like something sticky and disgusting I’m supposed to carry around now.

Because I take longer to answer.

Because I think in pictures, not in bullet points.

Because I walk circles in my brain while they’re still crawling in straight lines.

But this didn’t start with kids in hallways. It started with adults. With evaluations. With paperwork.

At the top of my IEP:

“Intellectual Disability — Retardation.”

In bold. In ink. Like that’s all I’d ever be.

I’ve read that file more times than I’ve read my own poems.

Like it was supposed to explain me better than I ever could.

It didn’t.

I’m not behind.

I’m not broken.

I’m not stupid.

I’m not your slur.

I just take ten laps in my head for every one you walk out loud.

I’m building connections you can’t even see yet.

I’m solving puzzles you didn’t notice existed.

I’m tired, not incapable.

I’m quiet, not less.

I’m soft, not stupid.

I am NOT the R-word.

I’m Luna.

And I’m done carrying this shame in silence.

I’m allowed to burn a little. I’m not sure in which way. A burnt out candle, kinda-way. Or a volcano taking everything out in its path kinda-way.

🖤 Your slurs don’t define me. Your paperwork doesn’t either,

– Me <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☮

☯

💔💗

xoxo

friends forever ✨

Whisper’s Of The Unseen – Dear Diary

Whispers of the Unseen: Kay’s Final Night of 1976

Diary Entry: December 31, 1976

Dear Diary,

It’s me, Kay. Tonight’s the last night of 1976, and everything feels… unsettled, like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of something big, like a secret just waiting to be uncovered. Something that’s always been there, just beneath the surface, only now it’s starting to reveal itself.

I’ve always known I wasn’t exactly like the other girls in town. There’s something about me that’s different… beyond normal, I guess you’d say. I can’t explain it to anyone, not even to myself most of the time. But it’s there—this knowing, this awareness that there’s more to the world than what people see.

Mom? She’s wonderful, in her own way. Always makes the house feel so warm, so full of love. But when it comes to understanding the things I’ve been noticing—well, that’s a different story. She’s brilliant, smarter than most, but she looks at the world like it’s a puzzle with neat edges. Me? I see the pieces that don’t fit. I hear the sounds no one else hears. I see things in the corners of my vision that vanish the moment I try to focus on them.

I’ve tried to tell her, Diary. I really have. But when I do, she just tilts her head, gives me this soft smile, like I’m telling some tall tale she can’t quite believe. I trust her more than anyone. I just… I wish she would believe me. Believe that there’s something out there. Something more.

It’s not just my imagination. I know it isn’t. Tonight, after dinner, I swear I saw something out of the corner of my eye—just a flicker, a shadow, moving where no shadow should be. I felt it too, like the air shifted, cooler for just a second. And the whispers… they’re always so quiet, so soft, like they’re coming from somewhere far, far away. But I hear them, Diary. I do.

It’s scary, sometimes. Not because I think they’ll hurt me, but because it’s like living in two different worlds. There’s the world Mom sees, full of logic and normalcy, and then there’s the one I’m drifting into—a world where shadows move on their own and whispers fill the silence.

I wish I could tell her. I want to. But what if she thinks I’m losing it? What if she tries to make it go away, like it’s something wrong with me?

But I know there’s nothing wrong. These things I’m experiencing—they’re real, as real as the chill I felt in the room tonight, as real as the snow falling outside. Maybe they’re part of me, part of who I’m meant to be. It’s like something is waking up inside me, something that’s been waiting, dormant, until now.

Sometimes, I catch her looking at me. Not with fear, exactly, but with a kind of wonder, like she knows there’s more to me than I let on, but she doesn’t know how to ask. I wish I could tell her. Maybe someday I will, when I understand it all a little better myself.

For now, I’ll keep it here, in these pages, where it’s safe. You’re the only one who doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t doubt, just listens.

Goodbye, 1976. Something tells me 1977 is going to be… different. Maybe even beyond normal.

Love,
Kay