someone cares

diary entries 06.29.2026 - 07.06.2026

It feels more than slightly awkward going into my first piece on Substack in… over a year… knowing I’m about to type up, and share my diary entries with… who? The Internet™? My few writer friends and overly supportive partner? Tell me that’s not an uncomfortable thing to try and preface.

The last time I posted anything other than a simple note or re-stacking a buddy or two’s pieces, was Valentine’s Day of 2025. It would disgust pre-long-term-relationship-Mel if you told them I was such a disgusting romantic (although, it is endearing) (I’m so in love).

I could talk about how much has changed since then, but, coming to you now, July 6th, 2026, I realize how much truth laid in the words my bully of a brother told me my entire childhood:

“No one cares.”

I heard that almost every time I spoke, it seemed. Before I would even have a thought fully formed, I was being ridiculed. He was “kidding,” of course. Or at least that was what my even more-so bully-esc mother would say.

I don’t claim that there is truth in his words to give him the power of being right, nor to be pessimistic toward the value of my Self and my words. No. What I mean is that no one cares about the details of my trauma. That’s so uninteresting.

“my dad and step dad died 6 months apart from each other.” BORING

“it’s been a year since my soul cat died, and i think about her every day” BLEH!!!

I’ve done my time in regard to trauma-bonds. Those relationships are so flat, and lifeless. What is interesting, however, are my thoughts, my words, my ambition and my drive. And over the past year I’ve made a lot of decisions that could, if I let them, change my life. THAT is interesting, damn it!

I got a new job, then quit my old, extremely toxic one. I applied, got accepted to, committed, and registered for classes at my local state college to pursue Massage Therapy (I have orientation tomorrow! woohoo!!!).

So much is in motion right now. My situation has been changing ever so slightly, ever so silently, behind closed doors, for so long. And to my dismay, I find myself asking “what ISN’T changing?” Besides my relationship with my greatest gift, Courtney Belle, the only thing that remains wholly mine and untouched, are my thoughts.

I process every single damned thought by writing it in down. Whether that be in my notes app, or in my beloved diary. If I’m feeling something, it’s being documented. We could dive into why I deem it necessary to document my emotions - likely trauma. Or why I can’t process my emotions any other way - likely the ‘tism, as the kids would call it. But that’s neither here nor there.

I realized that my words, my true, authentic, unwavering emotions, are being crammed onto pages and then never seeing the light of day. That’s not fair to my words. Because believe it or not, someone might care, and that’s what matters.

Anna Corinne, or, in my household “the wildgeese girl,” has been a huge inspiration in my decision to share some of my innermost thoughts. I’ve come to the realization that, as much as “no one cares” feels true, it will not always be true. I’ve come to the realization that there is SO much beauty in the mundane, and that we truly never have an original experience. Sometimes, that feels maddening, but others, quite comforting. It’s comforting knowing I care so deeply about the words of a stranger, and that maybe, just maybe, my words will comfort someone, in some way similar. Thank you, Anna, for being such an inspiration <3

[oh my f*cking god, get to the point!]

So, what you’ve all been waiting for… drum roll please… my thoughts!

Let’s jump back in time, shall we?

---

June 29, 2026

8:14pm - sitting down before I start closing duties. all the things I need to do before 10pm are on my mind, so let me list those out real quick.

• dishes away

• wash dishes

• transfer K-T

• wash pots

• fill 2 pots with filtered water

• fill 1 pot for hot water

• cash everyone out

• trashes

• bathroom

okay I think that’s it. now, what else is bothering me? I feel so ungodly shitty about myself, and so ungodly annoyed. I’m trying everything. I don’t know how to will myself to do any more than I already am.

I’m my least favorite “mel” right now. lazy. ignorant. selfish. I’m going through a med change, which, yes, is hard, but damn…

anyways, I have 5 mins left on my timer for when i have to get up.

I’m so fucking sick and tired of being so fucking sick and tired.

latte art I did that night at work :P

(damn… really started off with a bang…)

---

now we skip a few days… I don’t even know what I was doing this week…

---

July 4, 2026

an aside → I’ve started beginning my journal sessions with 5 observations without metaphor. I got inspiration from Brianna Attard’s video “Murakami journaling vs morning pages: somatic practice for an anxious mind” (which, I totally said I’d research Murakami journaling more… but alas… I did not). Highly recommend giving that video a watch, as it gave me a solid foundation for this new practice. Thus, moving forward, that’s what practice I’m attempting when I give my “observations.”

12:10pm - Observations:

1. one leg up, falling asleep.

2. computer on the couch - Spotify playing

3. my bags & their inners sprawled about (i can’t decide my bag system apparently)

4. Coffee that’s been microwaved 3 times

5. 2 empty bottles of nicotine juice… feign…

(And that’s all I wrote during this session. I simply needed to ground myself in the present moment)

6:50pm- omg why am I such an angry person? I feel that I have always felt this anger simply at humanity. Maybe because I’m inherently different than it? People just disgust me. I’m at work and all I can think about is how badly I want to go home.

I need to be more appreciative. I’m always dissatisfied with something. At least one thing is always not right. I’m always uncomfortable, it’s just a matter of “to what extent?” Heartbreaking.

I truly feel so bad for myself sometimes. My life can’t be THAT bad… right? It isn’t & that’s my issue with myself. How can I be so unwell while my life looks the best it ever has?

I’m so uncomfortable… merely existing. If I’m at work, I want to go home. Duh.

If I’m at home, I’m either:

a) doomscrolling or dissociated

or b) wanting to go somewhere or do something else.

Why do I feel so unfulfilled?

Just a cute pic of Zoey <3

---

July 5, 2026

5:21pm - Observations:

• oatmilk… on the counter

• a pregnant (confirmed) woman studying to sell life insurance at the bat

• kindle open w/journal prompts

• dishes to be put away

• The Happy Fits song transitioning into olivia dean… interesting.

another aside → I found this article with 31 prompts for July. By the time I found it and began, it was the 5th of July. My plan is to go back and answer the first few prompts. The next bit is from prompts 1 & 2 from that post <3

Prompt 1: What do you hope this month changes in you?

Well, I’m not certain “change” is the right word. But, I would like to become more prepared, mostly for school starting, also just generally. To me that means fully escaping this rut i’ve been in. What does that look like? Being less exhausted living a full day, for starters. I have some long days ahead of me. Much more jam packed than the days I’ve lived the past 2 years. So, really, I want it to feel easier to do things i have to do, even when I’m tired. My job is good practice. But, I want, in July to fill my days so that I’m not taken off guard starting August 17th. I hope this month changes my internalized demand avoidance.

Prompt 2: Describe the version of yourself feel most at home being. When do they show up?

The beginning of this prompt is much simpler than the last bit. Describe them? Okay. They’re serene. They are soft, both to the touch and emotionally. They know when to crack a joke. Hell, they actually have the energy to possess humor. They’re present and adore expressing their love. They feel love. Not necessarily happiness, but love. The opposite of anger, jealousy, and frustration. They’re not perfect but they don’t have to be because they love and honor their impurities. They’re funny and sweet and love life for the “love of the game.” Now, when do they show up? Girl! I don’t know! I feel so far removed from that version of myself. It felt like I could’ve been describing a movie character. But, for real, I have no idea. They show up when I’m alone, when I’m rested, when I take substances. I have a difficult time being that version of myself. How do I access them more?

Vonnegut & I serving FACE

---

Ok! That’s all for now :) Farewell!