I love my couch. It is white but that is just a custom cover I bought for it. The cover cost me a pretty penny, about one hundred and fifty dollars. My dad said it wasn’t worth it. My couch wasn’t always mine. I bought it on Facebook Marketplace for about two hundred fifty dollars. It expands to be a queen-sized bed.
I love it because it always can give me a safe place to sleep when I’m spending late nights on my computer. It’s a nice place to meditate. I have more memories of sleeping on my couch than on my bed. The white cover is a bit scratchy but I like the feeling of it on my skin. It feels a bit like the canvases for my paintings before I put paint on them. Underneath the off-white cover is hiding a beautiful deep blue. I like thinking about how its still pristine under the cover.
Today I will be playing a lot of Valorant and hopefully processing a lot of the stress and feelings I have around Valorant through the use of poetry.
Pregame Stress
I’ve got knots in my stomach
What if it is another day
Of humiliation
That drop in my stomach
Feeling helpless
Like I’m worth nothing
I go down in rank
The more I play
What is wrong me
That I cannot get better
I hate this
Myself
Me
Hands Sweaty
On my keyboard
Heat on my face
Clenched stomach
It is no wonder
Valorant has such a big impact on me
I wish to let go of my fears
And remember the satisfaction of shooting
I starting to find it a challenge to write poetry because my mind always turns to thinking strategically and thinking in terms of sentanaces and bullet points. I’m going to roll with that. If that is how I feel, we are just going to write in sentences and bullet points.
I feel a bit tired like I’m walking through a haze. I’m scared to start a ranked game, and yet there is an eagerness to gain rr. Gold 1, what could go wrong? Yet I’m scared. HOW DID I GET TO GOLD 1? That’s unhead of. It gives me so much anxiety that I don’t know what is going on.
I want to remind myself of my main valorant tenants:
Think of it as a 1v5
Follow your feelings, peek when you are ready
Keep wrist relaxed, use movement keys to aim
Some additional tenants:
Find a space angle to hold, something that feels safe
Peek expecting them there
Notice things about aim, don’t try to change them, noticing is the pathway to the unconscious mind
Goddamn, this fucking omen can’t hit him while he’s moving . Why is Silver Movement so good?????
WHY IS THE RAZE HIDING IN THAT AREA? NO FUCKING COMMS? I hate this team. Why can I not hit shots.
I think I wasn’t aware of the danger I was in when clearing heaven. Maybe need more of that 1v5 mindset. Also, maybe need to notice where my shots are going. Scared but playing again. It is silvers I am with WHY THE FUCK ARE THEY KILLING ME. Counterstrafing, one tapping me??? WHAT DO I NEED TO DO?
THIS IS LIKE GOING BACK 2 FUCKING YEARS. I guess what I thought before is that I would never drop this low because I can beat them on gamesense alone.
I feel tired. Why are the braindead idiots getting more kills? I feel a bit better now. I adjusted and I was able to get a bunch of kills in the end. I guess its just about holding better angles.
I don’t like this bullshit bottom fragging. I feel so tired and awful and I feel hungry.
It is interesting that with these reflections I was able to drop 39 kills in one of my games.
I don’t know exactly if this is a core wound, but I strongly believe that I am responsible for people’s emotions and that I am a bad person.
In order to process this (a rebalance my emotions), I am going to focus on a time when I hurt someone and focus on the part right before it so I can remember that there is a good reason for doing what I did and perhaps have a little more compassion for myself.
And gave us the assignment to create a sculpture of ourselves
But my sculpture
Wasn’t like Gilmour’s at all
It was all messy cardboard
Hot glued together
It didn’t look like me
But it felt like me
When I looked into the eyes
I remembered the way I felt
My mind was all stars and night and imagination
Some part of me
Is afraid to let it go
It’s a familiar sad feeling
Like what I felt when I let go of the girl I loved
Only
This time
The person I’m letting go of
Is the person
Who made the sculpture
Years ago
When I look at this sculpture that I made in wood and mixed media class, I remember what I felt in college. So young and full of promise. That I could be anything, do anything. That I didn’t have to think about the rest of my life. Part of me always wants to go back. And it is hard to admit that that part of my life is over.
I think about this when I wait for nighttime. It is nighttime when I will see how things are going to unfold. I hope she will show me her vulnerable side, her emotional side again. The parts of her that I knew I needed in my life when I first met her. But I know, I cannot force her to be that person for me. That there is a possibility, that she won’t. That she will be closed and I’m so sad that I may have to say goodbye to the person I was when I was in love with her.
Letting themselves come to the surface in new ways
Passion as unwavering supportiveness
Fantasy as easygoing humor and happiness
This poem is about realizing that sexual love can be beautiful, adventurous, and happy. It doesn’t need to be suppressed. Yet it also can feel the pain of trauma, and be expressed as deep caring and supportiveness. It’s a strange new place because I cannot wrap my head around how it works even though it feels right and true.
