2020

The month ended in loyalty tests, comfort rituals, family feeling, and darker thoughts, with me trying to calm myself in real time as the emotional weather kept changing.

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Kobe’s death cut the day in half for me, and everything after that moved through grief, shock, posting, and the attempt to process a loss that felt suddenly personal.

I let myself swing from moon-terraforming fantasies to outbreak logic and bunker-style thinking, using imagination and planning to answer a day full of rising threat.

Insomnia opened the door to deal schemes, night spirals, and sabotage thinking, with the whole day shaped by overthinking and an inability to switch off.

Outbreak fear and exhibit dumping took over most of the day, and I kept using smaller comforts and food rituals to steady myself against the growing sense of instability.

I called every door I could for NDB and related banking routes, spending the day in pure hustle mode and refusing to slow down even when momentum was uncertain.

I spent the day mixing ambition with culture, food, and power lessons, building a larger internal plan while also revealing how much image and appetite drove me.

I started with bank outreach and practical execution, but the emotional tone underneath was still survival, distrust, and the need to keep tightening my position.

I framed the night as one final push for SIERRA, but the real story was exhaustion, pressure, and the feeling that I was managing both a deal and my own collapse.

The day split between breakdown and business, with almost no real rest as I tried to contain myself emotionally while still handling SIERRA calls and decisions at night.

Flashbacks hit me early, but I still forced myself into work mode, trying to stay functional through memory spikes, calls, and the pressure to keep moving forward.

I pushed myself into bigger dreams about money, faith, and scale while also feeling the strain underneath, as ambition kept colliding with exhaustion and uncertainty.

I spent the day caught between deal pressure, food fixation, nightlife echoes, and the feeling that every passing thought was being folded back into strategy.

I moved between cocktails, dinner memories, family rhythm, and another Iran spiral, with the day swinging hard between warmth, obsession, and geopolitical dread.

After the block, I came back louder, less filtered, and more willing to perform my anger in public, with the whole day showing how thin my restraint had become.

I posted obsessively about war, power, and what might happen next, using certainty and volume to push through a day that was really driven by anxiety underneath.

I loaded the day with lucky-number thinking, Boeing panic, Iran fear, and big symbolic meaning, turning ordinary events into part of a much heavier private mood.

I wanted the day to be quieter than it was, but it turned into a mix of politics, TV, restless thinking, and a small reset walk that helped me regain control.

I stayed locked inside gender arguments, timing, harm, and self-justification for most of the day, and even the way I wound down still carried that same agitation.

I tried to think seriously about startup plans and my future, but apocalypse headlines, revenge thoughts, and compulsive scrolling kept interrupting any clean sense of direction.

I numbed out with Fleabag, doomscrolling, and old memories, while politics, online conflict, and my own darker loops kept pulling the day away from any real rest.

I was burned out, drinking, and still pushing myself to think ahead, moving between stress, ambition, and the feeling that I had to keep producing even while depleted.

I spent the day trying to hold the line against violence and chaos, then drifted through war anxiety, race arguments, and a long chain of late-night reading I couldn’t stop.

I wrote through a heavy mirtazapine fog, strange dreams, old flashbacks, tea history detours, and the kind of unsettled mood that made the whole first day of the year feel unstable.