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date: 02/16/22
song: Bladee ~ Sentence
Made ginger-miso tahini and went to pull out my kale. But it was just...gone. Disappeared out of thin air. I cannot make this sh!t up. I had bought two bunches last night. I searched everywhere, high and low. Unreal. Was really looking forward to massaging it. Experiencing anxiety. Feeling spacey. Been on discord all day studying. Confusion. Sometimes I swear I am two different people. Not in like a split personality way, but like there's half of me that conflicts with the other. Heart vs Mind. Long hair vs skinhead. Past vs future. Yesterday I was venting about being a recluse yet here I am today, social butterfly self. One day I am in love with every aspect of my life the next I have the urge to destroy and burn down every bridge in my path. Extreme has always been part of my DNA. I get off on how much I can get away with. I've gotten a lot better though, I've found my edge. I resent it. Assumed I'd grow out of it, yet the wildcard stitched in me expects life is what we make it. Whatever happens, happens. I believe this is single-handedly the most important lesson I learned eversince. Breathing and beating is not forever. I don't know. Ungrateful. Traumatized. Potenial mommy-issues. Adored with every fabric of his being, soul-infused sentences in every poem, entire existence funded, supports every spell. I reflect with walls of impenatrable graphene. Terrified of the other side of the coin.
song: Grouper : Headache
Feeling completely blah today. I can’t stand the days I’m not on. Essentially useless. Headache, thirsty and down. I’m not sure if it’s even necessary. The worst part is how much I yearn to ravage. Instead I just end up in a staring contest with the fluffy-pink cupcake (what even sweet is it classified under?) I don’t even like Sno-balls. They remind me of the scene where Darla take a bite and finds the plastic ring. I made a fool of myself on that one app yesterday. I just get so fkn angry. Explosions. Then instant regret; embarassment even - I should never get to that point, or at least let anyone know I am that crushed. Can’t help it, I wear my heart on my sleeve. Harmful. All ammunition. I’m so hungry. I need to wash my hair. I desperately want to chop it off, scared I won’t be pretty anymore. Stumbled upon some garbage “Trends in 2022” article and apparently one-length, natural color, middle-part hair is making a comeback… -_- as well as low messy buns held up by velvet scrunchies… -_-… last but not least (and my personal favorite) that thicc is out and thin is in. Called it. Literally vent about this regularly. How fashion repeats. With that comes low-rise jeans and hip bones. Inflation is my suspect. Occult. I have an eye for these sort of things. Blame it on my heightened sense of awareness. Exhausting. Exhausted. I keep trying to remember this one word, it’s not sporadic, or spontaneous but similar. I remembered it the other day but cannot for the life of me recall. I dare not use Dr. G. I have faith my memory will serve me well. Eventually. I have a lot to do today, I think.
date: -- 02/11/22 --
song: Counting Crows: Colorblind
Destroyed by what I saw today on that one app. I usually turn a cheek. However, this particular discourse has completely broke me. Struggling to breathe. Feels like I’m screaming underwater, each gasp for air and water fills my lungs. Because I am so quiet about the whole experience, people just cherry-pick the archive and then fill in the spaces for what best helps them swallow. I understand hurt people hurt people. I’m hurt too. The pain I experienced has been life-changing. I’m not the same person I was before then. Something in me was torn out of my soul. Heart decayed to an extent. I found solace in my sorrow. Medicine in movement. A new community, a new way of life. Only to continually be robbed by my past. I didn’t ask for this. Hopeless romanticism has been my demise. I push away always because I’m so scared. I respond inappropriately because I am hopeful. But at what point do I throw my hands in the air and surrender? Constantly bottling it up and letting the memories age like a warm glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Defense in dry humor. Perhaps I find comfort in sadness. It’s really my true essence after all. A realist’s privilege.