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tag yourself!

idaho mountain or sunny georgia?

the beaches of normandy or a safe bed at home?

knowing exactly what you want and not getting it, or having it without realizing what you’re about to lose?

a lifetime of survival or a moment of love?

grape juice or weed from a bag? (hint: neither one is the right answer here, but you will know what you want anyways)

hahaha - awesome! great job! im doing great, how are you?! i know, ill figure it out. im sorry. love you, goodnight.

its okay. goodnight.

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sad update.

i think im fueled by love after all

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It’s good that you’re enjoying yourself.

I’m kind of done being vain…. just kind of sick of it. Like you can only outwardly beg the world to notice how much you love yourself before you realize that it still won’t make them love you back…

It’s fine - doesn’t change anything. But a bit annoying. bothers me anyways

you know .? like if you’re going to look you better stare and win the contest so hard that you start crying.

It’s like caring so much that it just circles back around to apathy. Don’t care because I can’t bear to keep caring.

i may quite possibly collapse in on myself.

Your fly has been down this whole time, BTW

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Don’t want to write it

Don’t want to have to feel it

Swipe text the bends they’re going to kill you with those peanuts I HEART NEW YORK.

Everything and nothing and mostly nothing really but also everything I’m stuck here and can’t go anywhere else no matter where I go

So I’ll stay here because I have to stay here but suddenly I want to be anywhere but here

Haven’t felt like this ina. While

So so desperate and also my gums are falling apart and I don’t know what I did to deserve it like that

Not like anyone is looking

But I’m trapped here and it’s kind of all aall about me right

I don’t have money for that -., I don’t have money for the hinge on my glasses that isn’t working quite right either and that’s just not fair because I didn’t even want that new pair in the first place. But she punched ME and then she asked me to teach her the bass and then she didn’t even say anything after I told her what time I was free on Monday and so now all of a sudden I haven’t left the house since Friday night (or Saturday morning) but I guess whatever because I still know the bass

And.now they’re leaving too now all the time all of a sudden because they just can and because it’s working this time e a rhe ayer because they decided to give him a chance which god bless and gods bless them both this means it will be happy because they CHOSE to do this for him.

And nobodywants to see me anymore it’s a new year so shouldn’t it be FUN/EXCITING and not THE BENDS?? But I only have like what twelve weeks left here anywaysso might as well start forgetting me now … and if I died there who would know how long would it take to notice . It’s so far off it’s like I might as well already be underneth

Whatever and fuck the bends. And fuck my gums adn really im all just so happy for you. And sorry it’s all out here I just can’t bring myself to write it down for myself —— swipe text makes it simply not real ./ nobody wrote this down so nobody felt it . “?crying never did anybody any good” or whatever so I won’t I almost did just a bit when the soldiers came home even though they were only gone a year. But that’s why I just welled up I didn’t cry. Only a year you can spit in that time. Only a year - I’m exact the same as I was only a year ago. Fuck years

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List

Cons

- not a very good person

- not good at sex

Pros

- looks at me

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Is there anybody out there?

My roommate invited someone over at midnight tonight, but they just talked. And laughed. I almost hated that more than the alternative.

The other night you and I talked for a very long time and we made a promise that I don’t think you will keep when you are sober and I really wish you would. We talked a lot and I said some embarrassing things about myself but you said some embarrassing things about yourself too so I don’t feel so bad. I’ll never get over the fact that I recently shared something pretty embarrassing with someone and then we never spoke again after that day. I hope you don’t remember me that way.

That’s the only way I remember you. A picture in my mind, hearing that thing about me, and then laughing at me, and then never speaking to me again. That’s who you are to me now.

I don’t really have time to be playing games anymore - I don’t think people believe me when I say that but it’s true. Well, I think it’s true. I think there’s a countdown here and I think nobody is seeing it above my head except for me when I look in the mirror… counting away all my prettiest days.

My grandma’s oldest sister died on Friday. Her name is Anne Therese, and in the end I didn’t know her too well but I miss her. And I hope she’s okay now. We didn’t see each other too much as I grew up, but I hope I always remember her kind eyes and her gentle voice. I’m not sure how to comfort my grandma. I don’t know what to tell someone after something like that. I will pray for her, maybe. I will see her in three weeks but that feels very far away.

I don’t know what else I have in me. Dreams have been much more exciting than life these days. I’m sleeping too much and not enough.

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But… I royal jellied for you.

Does karma work if your thoughts contradict your actions? I fear that God knows how I really feel, even though I don’t show it to others. Which one matters more - how you act or how you really think? Although I cant say I act all that much better anyways. Maybe girls aren’t really all that much more mature… or maybe boys are just more doomed than I thought…

I think maybe you romanticize your own funeral too much. If you keep dreaming about it too much, it’ll never go that way. But at least when you dream about your funeral you know it will happen one day. You can’t say the same about a wedding day. Or maybe you’ll have multiple wedding days, and maybe this is worse…

You know, I do know what the first dance song at my wedding would be. Maybe I’d reuse it every time, too, because it’s a good one. But that’s a big secret of mine actually. Maybe I’ll take it to my grave, and at my funeral nobody will know what it was.

I don’t remember where all the good songs I know came from. Or they came from my Dad’s car radio. It’s one or the either. The radio, or somewhere else. But I like that all of the songs came from somewhere. Some of them I really, really hate for that reason, but I still can’t take them out of my library. I don’t want to give that power back. I am not big enough to relinquish ownership back to you.

I changed for you and you didn’t ask me to - now I am different forever and you are not here.

I love you, is what you were saying when you did that. I love you, but not enough to worry about you. Not enough to catch you. I am sorry but not exactly.

Many years will pass and dirt will fill my mouth and historians will say “this is where she spoke from” and it will all just look sort of funny. I am grateful to be here now though. I am not all that good, but every few hours I try to make up for it. Like how sometimes someone punches you in the face and then you don’t make them pay for your replacement glasses. Like how we were yelling but we didn’t mean it. Like how I am always choosing to say nothing at all when I cannot say anything nice. Like how you know that I’m being too quiet, but you don’t ask me what I’m really thinking. Really, I think it’s better for everyone if we just let it go.

I got so angry in the Uber home last night that I almost cried but I didn’t. I didn’t because it would do nothing to cry and it would be easier to pretend like I wasn’t angry at all. Earlier today, I realized that one day I will feel so much worse and I will wish that I only ever got as sad as I am now. So we need to believe that we are always peaking, and that the valleys will always be much lower but we will never be in them in the present, only in the distant future.

I guess it’s my fault for changing when you didn’t ask me to, and now I just have to believe that I am a better person than I ever was to begin with. Up and up and up. If I pretend I don’t like you that much then it’ll all be okay in the end.

Baby Blue - King Krule

Waiting for the Moon to Rise - Belle and Sebastian

Egg - The Garden

h4msterb0y <3 Korea - Virgin Miri, Miso, Lil Cherry

I Love the Valley - Ten in the Swear Jar

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I AM HOME AND AVAILABLE IF YOU NEED/WANT TO TELL ME ANYTHING.

Sometimes it has to be enough to know that you did everything you could. Or at least to believe it even if it’s not true. Everything I write comes to me in dreams, so maybe it’s better to stay asleep after all. I wonder who our most true self is - the awake or the sleeping. What is and what wants. Or what is and what fears.

In her wallet, my Nona has photos of her parents and her son’s prayer card from the funeral. “Dad’s listening to that song that makes me sad again”, my mom had said over the noise in the basement. I told her about my day to drown it out. Love will never leave us, no matter how long gone it is. I wonder if this is more of a terrible burden or a fragile blessing. To hold on to love, you must hold it in the jaw and set it in the teeth of sadness.

I think it’s fine to relapse sometimes, because my healing is not tied to you and nobody is watching it happen. It just happens, and then it’s over. It just happens, and then it’s over. And then it stays forever. God, will you ever shut up? Get out of here. Leave me alone, and stop seeing without looking and can I just close the door on my way out? I’m letting you overstay your welcome. It’s getting way too cold.

I hate all of you, and by that I mean I hate parts of all of you. I would say the same about myself, but I’m not allowed to feel like that’s my more. It’s called favoritism, I think. Just shut up and go away. Between solitude and companionship, which makes the world truly better? Except I’m not asking you, so I don’t want to hear it.

Whatever. I don’t care anymore. At least I have you, for now. Never forever, but for now nonetheless…

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Have you known me since?

Something that everyone has

Something that everyone but me has

Something that no one really has

I’m ripping my hair out of the seams.

I’m begging for a passing thought

I’ve thought of you every day since

I wonder who could do it, if not I

I sit and I wait and I wonder where you’ve been

Who you are and who you’ve seen

How could it be so peculiar to feel green

How to lay and watch you underneath

Under, not quite over

Change your hair

And change your sheets

Eat the bed from right out under

From. Underneath

Sit and stare and wait and bear

And hold your head up high

One day this will be just a dream

Eat your heart and change your art

And make a memory

Out of all that was once

And what could be

Eat and stare and watch the air

And feel it underneath

The morning breeze will be clean

The morning breeze will be clean

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sorry, i shouldn’t be saying this. we’re just roommates.

my laptop stopped working again and this time i think it’s for real. so i guess the space bar is making a comeback (in a big way).

im romanticizing los angeles to an extraordinary degree, if only to convince myself. im not sure there’s anything waiting for me there though, like there were things waiting for me in chicago. things were waiting for me and now im leaving them even though im still waiting for them here, too.

we convinced abbie to start liking the worlds worst network show ever and she chalked it up to being 23 now. i think maybe 23 won’t be so bad if that’s what it looks like.

we went to the bar and then we came home and made our own drinks for free and then she told me not to go to los angeles, even though i thought she was the one coming with me.

im starting to let people down easy. i think this is the worst decision of my life. i think this is the only decision i have to make. i don’t think anybody wants this. i met a girl from LA whose dad makes $50,000 a month and she drives an audi but she didn’t buy it and she asked me how i spelled my name and when i told her she sounded disappointed. i don’t think anyone our age should own an audi.

maybe it’s all for the best. i still have to avert my eyes in so many parts of this city.

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you're money, baby. you're money.

dreams are a sort of sacred place. but last night you appeared and you read all of my journals (ones that don't even exist in realife, secrets that i would be too embarrassed to admit) and you laughed and i was there to watch but you never spoke to me, you just laughed. sonow im scared to see what tonight may bring. we watched that movie swingers last night, and now we've seen 6% of all of vincevaughns movies even though it feels like we've already seen a lot of them. jon favreau ran from new york to LA because his exgirlfriend found someone new and he was sosad even though he was that one who left her, and he was so sad that its all he could think about. all he did was wait for her to call, but she never did.and vince vaughn kept saying no, youre money baby, youre money. but he wouldn't listen. but then he met this lady named lorraine and they went swing dancing (which i guess is where the title comesfrom) and then his ex girlfriend calls him but he hangs up on her because lorraine is on the other line. i guess the only cure to heartbreak is a girl who can swing dance. i think things are getting distant again, but its not myfault.it actually never is, because im not the one that's going away (except i also am). im going to keep trying, ill never stop trying, but i dont know if its because i love you or because im building a case against you. i watched a bunch of grown men fight in my text messages yesterday and i waited six days to open a text because i was soscared of what it said but then it just said things like "its okay" and "i understand". well, pain is just another thing to feel. love is just another thing to feel. nothing real is really real. you feel? i slept on the amtrak twice this week. its a very [vulnerable / humiliating]* experience. and its honestly not even a pretty view. a 20 year old kid gave me an edible and i took myself dancing and i bought myself a new york strip steak and i scoffed when they asked for my ID, because don't you know who i am on the inside? my grandfather brings people to the bar he built in his basement and he has them sign the walls and many of those peoplearen't alive anymore, and some of them weren't even that old. i wonder what will happen to the walls in that house one day. we've gotta do karaoke. we've gotta goto that 70s themed club with the rainbow dance floor in the west loop.we've gotta keep eating out even when we shouldn't and we've gotta visit each other again soon and we've gotta keep saying yes even when we're tired. we simply gotta. in the war on celebrities, julian is going first, by the way. *though i guess vulnerability and humility are the exact same thing in a way. you cannot truly be exposed to the world without feeling so uncharacteristically shy. one day i wont even care what [you / anyone] thinks. "where do we go from here, i’ll say, youre a shining star, you'll do great in LA, and i keep fixing every habit that i break"

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we watched the kim/kanye divorce docuseries and discussed it for a long time afterwards.

i need to make shirts now but im no artist. im going to stay up another hour just in case i miss something (i never do, but good to check). i haven’t even learned my lines yet but i guess sometimes it’s good to learn to run before you learn to walk.

everyone is at his house or he is at ours. nobody really plans these things, they just happen.

i think we’ve started enabling one another, but im definitely a worse influence. im sorry i cant stick to my principles any harder. ive never been good at sticking to my word, and you’re no good at sticking around.

i keep playing along to concert videos and pretending im there. except if i was andy rourke i would have kicked morrissey while he was down so he wouldn’t get back up. still ill and stay ill, bitch.

monday blues again. they’re a beautifully neutral thing, these days. i will take what i can get (one bad day a week and one really bad day a month and one terrible day a year and you think about all of them on all the rest of the days)

if i put all of my musical influences in one room, what would they talk about? maybe they’d all just start killing one another. unintentionally, of course.

what’s a city made for lovers when you’ve been home for so long?come home soon. come over soon. nobody comes up here anymore. not enough incentive.

anyways, i think kim and kanye were best friends once.

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always such a great day with you trapped here

i cant keep asking to forget you. i cant keep asking you to forgive me. And i absolutely cannot afford to keep seeing you in my dreams. its all so beautiful (according to everyone).its so beautiful that you keep getting distracted by the wonder of the world and ive got your voicemail again. the person you fear the most and the person you hate the most are more often than not different people.because the person you hate is the person who hurt you and the person you fear is the one that you hurt. tree lined skies with leaves that will melt in the autumn. im running out of time to make things right.i ran out before it began. mixed tapes/feelings/messages. i lose something every day that i didn't even know i should be scared of losing. once i sat there with blood on my arms and asked if you were the one self-sabotaging. lol Not everything is about you/me/you&me though. The unrequited passing thought seems to have returned tenfold. ive never had a good summer, but that wont stop me from fighting for it, at least notyet. i think the deeper you get into the dot com sludge, the more you can divulge without anyone reading. arentmondays just the worst? Thanks to everyone for ignoring the elephant in the room…sorry we missed each others parties. next year we wont even be in the same place. or maybe we will be the only thing we both still have.

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GET ME OUTTA HERE

my 24 year old brother got mad at me for swearing at him in a restaurant. every time i use my phone i just feel worse. my dads favorite poets are ones who speak of life and love but these lessons don’t always seem to resonate with him on the daily. "i don’t know how much longer i can take this", my mother said to me early this morning after a late night of drinking. i need to keep my nail polish on for 10 more days. i shouldn’t have cancelled my train ticket home. we damaged the rental car. the music was so beautiful last night, and i cried on the boat while the man played the harmonica. my mom cried on the boat too, but for different reasons. we both did a poor job of hiding it.

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thoughts about life + love + growing up + finding contentment

In the wake of my personal renaissance, the likes of which have not been seen since I graduated high school, or after covid, or after deciding to grow my hair back out, I have struggled to find activities that really bring me joy.

I used to spend a lot of time just consuming media, which I was always fine with. I never really had a problem with it at all - in fact, it felt like that was where I could find the most comfort, because it was always guaranteed to bring me contentment in some way. Endlessly scrolling and posting on social media, or getting high and watching super long YouTube videos, or watching shows that I would be too embarrassed to share with others but completely happy to enjoy on my own.

I don’t feel this same joy anymore. Now all I can think when I open any social media app is how much I hate it, and how I know I’m only going on it to waste time. I actually actively feel more negatively after using it. (It’s not posting that I dislike by the way - I still enjoy creating small diaries and snapshots of my life for myself, it’s usually the endless barrage of other’s content that makes me feel like my head is filled with lead. “I hate you I hate you I hate you - I hate you because you do not see me and I can see you, I am seeing you, I cannot stop seeing you, all the time, you are trapped in here”.

I haven’t actually really watched any media of any kind in months. I just can’t bring myself to. I’ve watched some random videos on YouTube or movies here and there, but I almost feel silly attempting to completely invest myself in a fictional world. It’s like an illusion has been shattered and I can’t bring myself to care in quite the same way. Or maybe I just don’t want to. I’m not willing to enjoy it. This is a problem - because I do believe that (for better or for worse) the consumption of media is actually one of the few guaranteed joys in life. It seems like it’s kind of all that people do, really.

My attention has shifted, perhaps positively, towards the act of creation over consumption. Active versus passive. This (obviously) requires an immense amount of energy and passion over the spectator sport, which is inherently a good and healthy thing. However, this almost feels more like work than a pastime. I have no passion for my job - so in a way this is where I flow all of that energy and desire to work. This brings me joy, I presume, but come on. Nothing that you have to work for to bring you happiness counts, right??? Kidding.

I just wish I liked watching tv again, ha.

Of course, im also in the eternal struggle of love. Wanting it, yearning for it, in such a way that it’s almost painful. I see it everywhere, and I ache. I have found myself at a crossroads - the acceptance of peace in finding love for oneself and the indelible desire for someone to see me with the same amount of care that I have learned for myself. Yes, life is ultimately lived alone, and it is loved alone, but it is also meant to be shared alongside others. Companionship is not necessary for survival, but god, is it such a nice perk.

Love is guaranteed to no one, but when everyone else grows up and moves on and create their own love with someone else, where will I be? I don’t want to wish the worst on myself - I know that one day it will happen if it is meant to happen (fate, a silly thing. A stupid thing. So stupid that I cannot let go of it), and regardless of the outcome one day this ache will be dull and far away. I hope, I hope. (I hope.)

I’m finding that maybe life really is a cheap thing, though. We aren’t all meant for greatness - fine. In fact, I’ve grown comforted by the fact. Truly, truly, truly, it is the little things. Life is not the large moments but rather is the quiet walk as the sun goes down and the breeze is just right and the album you’ve listened to dozens of times and the eggs being cooked just to your liking and counting each step as you go down the staircase and playing trivia for the fun of it even if you never get the answers right. There is no shame in this - only immense joy and comfort. There is no shame in the mundane. There is no such thing as the mundane.

But the sadness - the ache - comes back when I realize that maybe all that I hope for isn’t what it seems, and it may never be. I don’t know if my mother is happy. By all accounts, she should be, but it pains me to believe that she likely is not. I mean, maybe she is. Maybe she has found contentment, and loves the little things. She has what I yearn for - people who love her and people who she loves and life’s little pleasures.

But even people in relationships fight and even people in relationships must fight to find joy in the mundane and even people who have been married for decades seem to walk on eggshells more often than not. My mother seems to live in a glass castle. Stones are being thrown at her. I think she may be too far in to outrun it. She is too tired to try. She may not even want to.

I don’t know. I don’t know, maybe happy marriages do exist. Maybe people can be together for many years and they do not grow resentful of one another. Maybe I haven’t seen it, or I haven’t been looking for it. Maybe love can persist, and maybe I can have this kind of love.

What I’m saying here is that I don’t know what dreams to rely on anymore. It all feels so uncertain, like no matter what I do there is no longer a sense of assuredness that this will definitely work out. “If nothing else happens, I know I have this” - this does not exist anymore. It’s not a good thing or a bad thing, it’s just something I need to accept and am learning to accept. (I’m sorry, I’m scared to appear too far gone. I’m not, I promise. Please believe me. I once sat on my knees and cried for you to believe me. I don’t think you did, or we would not be here. I digress.)

One day I hope to wake up and feel excited for whatever the days brings, no matter what it is. I had this, I think, and then I lost it, but then I found it again, and then I lost it in the renaissance. Funny how change will do that to you. Funny how I will never be the same again. It’s funny how guilty I feel for feeling like this. It’s funny how much I still love myself in spite of it all. In fact, I have nothing to do with this.

I read back on my journal entries from months in the past and I feel nothing but gratitude (or sometimes embarrassment, but in a good way) for how much better I feel. I pray every day for the time when I will do the same for these recent ones. Not to God, of course. But maybe.

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intimacy: having it vs. losing it vs. never really needing it at all.

I’m on a Russian Roulette losing streak. A rush of blood from the veins straight to the hospital floor.

Sadness paired with the unbearable (undeniable) weight that there was nothing ever there at all.

You say “make me understand”,

but you will never be me.

Unconditionally feel the limits: shoulder against shoulder, hesitance without bounds.

The intimacy of having nothing to say at all.

Our thoughts are quiet and synchronized

Our thoughts are quiet and synchronized

Our thoughts are quiet and synchronized

Perfect dissonance.

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——-> of thought

The rush of blood, the ghost of pain

The way something can choke you and question you at the same time

Eating my heart out with 2 dBs of gain

6 to 1 to nothing at all, my eternal losing streak

A heart in a knife and a bruise like a stain

Fight for your right to fall off a cliff.