casshasthingstosay

[casshasthingstosay]

Breakups are hard

I’m buying kale, I’m taking long walks, I’m sobbing.

I’m happy! I’m free!!

I’m alone

I’m on my own!!

I love them

Enough to let them go

I’m gonna write stupid thoughts on my little blog and try to vent silently to the void

[casshasthingstosay]

Forced to run away from the best thing I’ve known because I have to survive or something idk

[casshasthingstosay]

When I say lost, I guess I mean lost in the way you would misplace your keys. Still there, hidden in plain sight. But I can’t go out without them, at least without leaving myself wide open.

[casshasthingstosay]

I will lay in the grass with you and show you everything inside of my heart soon btw

[casshasthingstosay]

It feels really good to be able to be very soft and very open recently.

I am fully myself and that means shedding cynicism and shredding fake smiles and being completely undone and nothing has to be a secret and I have nothing to hide

It feels good to throw my arms around you and to tell my friends I love them. and to be deeply flawed and know that it is okay. And I see bad photos of myself without crying but I cannot say the same

About the morning time

In a good way!

[casshasthingstosay]

On nostalgia

This morning I am digging up the past. I have that slightly eerie, somewhat wistful deja-vu feeling.

I don’t know what to do with this when I’m happy.

Recently things have been good. Not sickeningly Splenda sweet but good like fresh strawberries. Whole,, fresh, imperfect, dirt left on the edges good. The kind of good you can’t order, can’t curate, can’t wish for, but must grow.

But what does that mean for my past? There was a time when things were good like this. But looking back maybe not quite so ready. Not yet ripe. I wanted so badly to have myself the way I do now and still, to braid myself into something bigger.

I feel whole now, sewn in, rooted. So what do I do with reminders. Do I keep them on my shelf, like a souvenir?

Glimpses of the past in the present cut like a shattered mirror. I have it again. I’ve lost it before. Blood and glitter.

I am not sure how to sort out these pieces yet. That’s okay. Things are clicking slowly,,,, gears in the tower.

[casshasthingstosay]

My wall is full of pinprick scars

Musuem postcards, maps of Japan, discarded scores, paintings from former Friends, and whatever Art my mom finds especially endearing at the thrift store have graced these falls and left them freckled with holes.

The deer and the bird have been relegated in the back corner of my closet floor. I still need to take down the hand painted postcard from the worst birthday of my life. Sweet then, but now just a reminder of things I’ve lost.

Not that all reminders of lost things make me so bitter.

When I was 19, I bought him a map at the holiday market. Picking through the frames on my knees in the cold until I found something perfect. I didn’t want him to think I was being……. I bought Will a map too, of Buffalo, just to make sure it seemed plausibly platonic.

I wonder if you kept the map of Pennsylvania that I kept in my single dorm for two months before excitedly throwing it into your hands. I wonder if you really liked it or thought it was strange.

It’s funny, I don’t remember your reaction anymore. Time takes and takes. I remember the map though. I think I really did love you. But maybe not so differently from how I loved each of our friends.

Maybe Will kept the old map too. Maybe Will broke my heart with a different tool. Sledgehammer, scalpel, intermittent reinforcement. It’s all the same in the end. I couldn’t hate any of you if I tried. I’ve tried, but it felt disingenuous.

I collect postcards now. I think I collected them then. 4 is hardly a collection of course, and I think they were at my parents. Now I have so many. From each museum or city or garden…. From friends and festivals and days out in the city.

My friend pinned up the Hanukkah card I wrote her in her dorm. I like to write now. writing hurts my hands, but there’s something about it that helps me to feel like I can give a piece of my day, my time, something tangible even with the pain.

Now I have a tapestry hung. Now I see everything for what it could be again. Now I am thinking of birthday gifts. Now I am writing cards to friends with that same ink. Now I feel that same feeling of standing on the edge of something I don’t know, looking down, dizzy and sick. It’s a steep precipice. It’s a hard feeling to shake. Knowing there’s a chance of hitting the ground.

Did you keep the map? Probably not, with just a car full.

[casshasthingstosay]

It would be good if today could just please end please

Im tired of it

[casshasthingstosay]

Dissonance

It’s all feeling *slightly fuzzy/slightly surreal*

I am glowing/everything is burning

It’s all in the little details. I found it where everything has been caveated with gratitude. I have seen lace woven into the cracks on my palms. / somethings dont make sense it is a mess i am exhausted i am terrified i am trying so hard to stay

Gentle,

like the moonlight while I was calling the police and my friends told me they would be/

violent

/ like the sun swearing every shade it can find over the road while I laugh with my roommate over dark humor over my dry heaving body and fingers frantically running over the keyboard

If I ever figured things out

I didn’t want to figure things out

Things are figuring themselves out accordingly anyway

And I haven’t burnt my apartment down yet like I thought but I did feel

My lungs fill up from the guilt/from the drinks I’d had the night before

I didn’t understand when I was reading but I then was seeing seeing seeing image video screaming cheering chanting

Why do I still feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself when all I wanted then was to see the past anyway? It’s not like I was so nearsighted (as timing would imply)

Is it wrong to feel insane for not being sure why i need to know the woman I was born as?

Is it wrong to ask questions that contain an indecipherable amount of double negatives?

Is it wrong to feel so wonderful while the fear plays on

it

plays

it’s playing it’s

on

and on

Dissonance makes music beautiful when used tactfully.

Life is changing key

Listen and find the center of it

Listen

[casshasthingstosay]

Brave girls do what’s best for the people they care about even if it’s very very ouch

🫡🫡🫡🫡🫡

[casshasthingstosay]

I am an emotionally mature woman who does horrendously terrifying things with ease because I went to therapy

[casshasthingstosay]

Last year I got to buy my friend the earrings she really wanted

Life is so beautiful. I wonder what I’ll get to do this year.

[casshasthingstosay]

Actually nothing I make feels even close to what I can give with the same time, if that makes sense

I need to actually give away my whole soul I can’t weave it into the shape I want the way you can

[casshasthingstosay]

Sometimes I feel like I have to bloodlet all the words just to keep living 🩸🩸🩸🩸

[casshasthingstosay]

It’s like a love letter from her

I’m 18! I’m 19!!!

No no it’s now

Why does it feel the same? Why are my old friends texting me? I’m going back to DC again? Scared to sing again? What is coming over me ?????

I love them. I have more to love and memory merges with this moment.

Im happy with that

[casshasthingstosay]

I can’t live for them! I can’t love him!!!

It is all very temporary in that department

You can only love people that were more than movie scenes and commercials to you. More than tea. More than sleep.

Always always always love was there

Maybe it’s back maybe maybe maybe the love is back to visit me

[casshasthingstosay]

Shoutout to my Roommate for making me realize that a simple life is very beautiful if you’re around the right people.

I am so sad for my childhood self of course she wanted to be rootless. There was no where for her to grow.