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this might be really strange [and if it is im sorry, feel free to ignore and delete this.] but we spoke like.... over 10 years ago? possibly just in reblogs, maybe over asks? i followed ur blog back then, it was a different account, back when i was on tumblr every day for hours at a time. anyway, i thought of u today, just randomly. and found a post to follow back to this blog. its interesting how people we meet sometimes stick with us so i just wanted to say hi? and that im glad to see u

i agree it is interesting how people we meet stick around in different weird ways! it's crazy how much of my life has been roughly guided by the people i met on tumblr like almost 15 years ago... like i moved to new york in large part bc i met someone here that knew me from tumblr back in the day and she has this amazing community of friends that are now my friends! if i hadn't been that person online back then i wouldn't have this irl community i have now! life is beautiful :-)

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ah hello! i hope this isn't extremely odd but im very glad to have found u again, i purchased ur chapbook whatever and ever amen WAY back in the day and i still have it and like as a kid it was rly inspiring to me and got me into writing my own personal poetry so thank u for that!! and i hope ur doing well! <3

wait i have these nice messages i didn't realise i had and i don't know what time they're from and i never posted them! i love this this is nice

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one could even imagine having a nice little life out here

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11.29.24

sometimes i feel like i've made a gigantic mistake. sometimes i feel like i've done nothing but make mistake after mistake after mistake. like in trying to make life better for myself all i've done is dig myself into a gigantic hole.

sometimes i wonder if there is a world in which i would have been able to make the right choices. sometimes i start feeling really really bad for myself. sometimes i feel so incredibly self pitying because i never had normal parents that act like parents, because they were both abusive to me and i had to run away from home at 16, because i wasn't able to succeed in high school or even graduate because of how depressed i was for years, because they hated when i made friends and hung out with them so i didn't, because i never developed any long term relationships with anyone, because no one has known me for my entire life and no one really cares.

sometimes i think about how suffocating the holidays feel to me, how they will probably never feel normal. i think about how badly i wish there was someone out there caring about me and wanting me around. i will never have a family of any kind, certainly not one i'm going to visit for the holidays. i feel like i've had to spend my whole life trying to prove to other people that i am worth loving and i am worth caring about and i am worth wanting near.

this year has felt more crushing than usual. probably because i moved across the country and left my job and all the people i've known for six years and am now surrounded by strangers who all know and love each other and make each other their chosen family and spend holidays together and think about each other. i feel like the little match girl, peering into people's rich full lives.

i remember the first time i heard the little match girl story as a kid and how deeply i identified with it, how i constantly felt like i was on the outside looking in. one day i would be in one of these warm homes, surrounded by life and warmth and love and care.

i'm starting to reach a point on my life where i think it's actually never going to happen. i don't know what i was expecting exactly but other people do have families that they will be attached to forever, families that will continue to grow and change and support each other. i will never have a relative i only see at the holidays.

i feel very alone lately. it's even stranger feeling alone when you're married and living with your husband because it feels like i shouldn't be, like i'm not allowed to be. i used to sit at home and cry all the time and write and make art to cope then moments before tragedy i would force myself outside to interact with other people. i had a way of processing things even when it was often horrible and painful and took a long time.

these days i can't really afford to be sad at all, let alone for days at a time, because it's not just me anymore. i owe it to someone else to try to feel better and be better and sometimes i am reminded of how frustrating my emotions and my entire state of being are in no uncertain terms. 'you have no idea what it's like dealing with you' i'm told, as though i did not spend the majority of my life not only dealing with mentally ill people but also with myself. 'when will you ever do anything for my sake' i'm asked, and i can't say that i am every single day by not dying, by trying to get out of bed and trying to believe in anything. 'quiet down' i'm told when i start to get hysterical about these accusations because i feel like my entire life has been people telling me i'm too difficult to deal with.

a couple of weeks ago i thought i might be spending some holidays with my dad and my cousin. a couple days of discussion with him turned into everything he would say to me when i was 14 and he just married his 21 year old wife - 'why are you trying to destroy My Family? do you not want me to be happy with My Family?' - screaming at me that i don't even know his infant son's birth date as if this isn't the same man that texted me just months ago asking me what my husband's name is.

sometimes i can't believe that no one warned me that life would feel this pointless. that there's no goalposts, no marks of success and no milestones. every day is another trudge through to some other side i don't even really think exists anymore.

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11.18.24

i moved to new york on august 14th, about three months ago at this point. i briefly worked in the kitchen of the same virtual golf bar franchise i worked at in seattle but i mostly took the job out of fear and anxiety and desperation to have something to do and something to look forward to every day. a few weeks in i realised it was making me more miserable to go in than to sit at home and mostly only filled me with more anxiety so one day i stopped showing up. no one really reached out to me about it and i think we both came to a mutual unspoken understanding about my time there.

i was going to walk from my apartment in ridgewood to the maherpa area, a semi jokey name someone i met here used to refer to maria hernandez park, but i only made it as far as variety roasters, a coffee shop i like the most so far because it usually has the most seating, although they apparently removed half of their outdoor patio space, much to my deep disappointment considering it's 65 degrees in late november and i'm sitting outside in a sleeveless shirt.

at this point i'm doing nothing in particular again, a feeling very reminiscent of the time i spent sitting around for most of 2020 and 2021. the feeling makes me vaguely sick so i've been doing too many drugs to mask the feeling until i can go back to sleep, something that that has now too often started happening at 3 pm.

ridgewood already feels both unfamiliar and kind of small and boring. i think in reality it's probably my life that seems small and boring. i've made friends but i think i'm still getting used to how people here spend their time. in seattle where everything closed at midnight and the liquor sales tax is apparently the highest in the nation, i was used to playing host for afters where we could drink cheaply and eat food and smoke weed. in new york, there are no at home afters. there is always something open and when you're done, you all go your separate ways. sometimes i feel like i'm being curved by people i'm asking to hang out but then i wonder if i'm the weirdo that doesn't understand how these people operate yet because it seems like people most hang out in groups and outside.

i think one of the things i miss most so far is greenery. and gardening. i think i really underestimated how much i've grown up surrounded by grass and trees and how much i used to resent it because it made me feel far away and alone and how much i now miss the grass and the woods and having a patio where i can grow flowers. indoor plants are good but they're no flowers. in seattle i was growing all sorts of berries and fruits and vegetables and i found it so tremendously healing.

people here seem to write a lot. people will get together at coffee shops to sit next to each other and write, a concept i find nice but very alien. the first and only time i've showed up to one so far, i brought my stupid little pink notebook that's covered in strawberries and bunnies and isn't really a real notebook at all and i couldn't think of what to write at all. i think i just hate handwriting stuff because it takes too long. i used to like writing and i used to find writing helpful and healing and i used to read poetry and find a lot of comfort in it. now i feel like a creature frozen in time that does nothing and creates nothing and feels nothing too.

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what up

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ALERT: THIS IS TOFU!!

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im going to explode in the kiln

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“Cold and gloomy”

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what’s up

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wassup bitch

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