infiniteorbits

[infiniteorbits]

and i wait.

i’ve gotten really good at writing eulogies. i think i write a new one every day, or at least once a week. “a new one” might be a bit of a stretch, they all kinda stem from the same couple of ideas. they usually start by saying how i was jealous of my dad, or that it was hard to be raised in his shadow. “in his shadow” is an unfair sentiment, and i note that these feelings are unfair of me to everyone at this funeral. i say how he lived an incredible life and while i felt hopeless because i could never be as amazing as he was, it let me be as much of a fuck-up as i wanted, because i could never be better. i say that i was always surprised that my dad was proud of me, when he went so much farther (further?) and did so much more than i ever did. he shouldn’t have been proud when i got a big part in a play, or did well on a test, or did anything, when you compare it to all he did. but maybe he was just a better person than i was, i say, and i hope people laugh. the one thing i had or did that he couldn’t do, the one leg up i have on him, was that i was raised by the best dad in the world. i got to be raised by him, and he didn’t. i probably wouldn’t say it like that though, knowing that my grandfather would be in the audience after watching his son die the same way his wife did. i’ve imagined giving this eulogy, or a eulogy, so often,

i practically have it memorized. he’s not even dead, he might not even die. yet. he will, and maybe i’ll give this speech with my own children in the audience, god i hope i give this speech with my children in the audience.

but then he starts talking about how he’s seizing the day, how he’s seeing all these places he’s always wanted to see, how he’s lucky that he knows the end could be soon, how people on 9/11 didn’t know and people who have spontaneous heart attacks didn’t know and he’s lucky. he says that all statistics are truly 50-50 because they work or they don’t but the next one is supposed to work, like actually work, but no one will tell him if he’s going to die and his therapist (his therapist!) tells him that he’s being unreasonable and they can’t tell him and gets straight with him about things like that and he likes that, he likes how she does that. and i ask my mom if my dad’s going to die and she says she doesn’t know and i keep asking and expecting her to suddenly break and tell me the answer and give a definitive answer but she can’t and she just sits next to me trying to stop tears from growing too visible in her eyes and i’m sitting at the foot of my bed and my mom looks so small and i want her to tell me that she knows what’s going to happen and that this is all almost over. but instead we sit there, and she says she’s proud i’m going back to therapy, that she’s sorry for last spring and that my dad and her were worried about me. i make some joke and we laugh and i later learn that my friend’s dad saw her a few days ago and she was barely keeping it together, that she seemed “really upset” and i feel bad for pushing her and telling her that i’m going back to therapy.

but i hate that they keep bringing it up, that they keep telling me things and i hate that i’m home and it’s not really home and i hate that they keep telling me things and it’s never things that i want to hear it’s never anything definitive except “we got the scans back” “it’s gotten worse” “we’ll keep trying.” it’s only regiments and circles and i’ve never wanted to leave so badly. the dorm isn’t my home because how could it be and now my home isn’t my home because how could it be. so now where do i go with this. i don’t know anyone here and i don’t think i know anyone there anymore. i’m supposed to hate people i used to love and love people i’ve never heard of. my sister drives me places and i sit and look out the car window and remember when we both used to sit in the back together.

i make my dad a playlist of my favorite songs. i skip the sad ones, even though those are really my favorites. i wait for people to tell me what i want to hear. i wait for home to feel like home again. i wait for conversations to feel normal again and to just feel normal again and again and again and i wait. i’ll keep waiting until i’ll find myself in a black dress one day, giving a eulogy planned out by an 18 year old me. i hope i’m left waiting a long time. i hope i’m left waiting for no time at all.

[infiniteorbits]

last updated

1.

“amelie” - last updated 3/30/23 at 10:31

likes

- when songs blend into each other

- untangling necklaces

- restoration videos

- doorbells that play songs

dislikes

- when previously melted popcorn butter hardens

- when people laugh or talk at the end of songs

- restoration vids that r actually transformation

- when musical movies have less/no songs in the second half 

2.

“now twitter” - last updated 3/30/23 at 17:03

3/28

- dunkin is very hit or miss. luckily for both of us i will take whatever is given to me in any situation ever. - 07:59

- i’m a good kid just mentally disturbed - 9:49

- why is it always hot as balls in [building] i am DYING! - 9:57

3.

“lyrics” - last updated 3/28/23 at 21:06

are you there? - sbd

- “is there anyone in the audience currently living in vain?”

nights - frank ocean

- “wanna see nirvana but don’t wanna die”

4.

“band names” - last updated 4/2/23 at 17:04

i called it

señor manatee

morph suit with the genitals cut out

western haircut

vape gosh

car moth

snail gunk shoes

banana fever

radiobread

nonconsensual gymnastics routine

goodbye endemic fish

uneven sunburn

bread zeppelin

phoebe breadgers

self-imposed bald spot

turtle crossing

5.

“wowowowow” - last updated 3/19/23 at 21:21 (excerpt 1/3)

i really only wake up to go back to sleep again

i dont wanna leave my house because then i have to put on clothes and look at my body. i hate watching tiktok because i see other people’s bodies and hate mine. i hate existing

do you ever yearn to be loved by someone that doesn’t exist so badly that your body aches. do you ever ever want to pull out ur hair bc ur so ashamed of your own thoughts that you cant exist

6.

“dreams” - last updated 2/2/23 at 06:27

night of 12/22/22

[person 1] and [person 2] shit themselves. it seemed to be a reoccurring event bc [freshman year teacher], [person 3], and [person 4] were disappointed

7.

“try god: 1060 AM” - last updated 3/10/23 at 19:36

(is an atheist station)

9/16/19 : 2

11/5/19 : 1

12/5/19: 1

1/14/20 : 1

5/24/21: 1

7/28/21: 1

8/12/21: 1

9/3/21: 1

12/29/21: 1 (roche bros [town] parking lot)

9/23/22: 1

3/9/23: 1 (the bitch had like 2 stickers tho!!!)

8.

“hm” - last updated 1/22/23 at 22:57

“i’m not like you, other people’s problems don’t make me feel better” - [redacted]

9.

“wowowowow” - last updated 3/19/23 at 21:21 (excerpt 2/3)

how the fuck do candles burn out the wax doesn’t evaporate right

welcome to the achery, what can i get u? vomit, comin right up!

the world is made of orbits

the moon around the earth

the earth around the sun

our solar system around the middle

even little galaxies orbit around ours

i suppose that even we, as people,

orbit too

i like to think

that i orbit around you

10.

“i miss all the angel numbers and i keep getting mad bc i dont have to a reason to keep thinking of u”  - last updated 3/4/23 at 13:09

people kinda just age out of me.

11.

untitled - last updated 3/28/22 at 10:46

i dont know what to write. i dont wanna seem like im not workin gbut i just…. cant do this right now. i had to walk to school today and i wanted to die. i mean realistically thats not truly a bad thing. the walk is like ten minutes and its in Rennes and im lucky to be here and to be able to walk and go to school and breathe clean air and whatnot. but im so tired. so tired. it took my nearly an hour to pick out my clothes today. i decided on a shirt and jeans that dont look good together at all and that are half dry bc the dryer just does not work in this house for some damn reason and its fucking annoying. i did my makeup because i was looking atrocious- my hair was wet because i finally got myself to shower after god knows how long (less than a week i presume - i think i last showered the weekend before this week?) and the lack of shape to my hair and the weird way my face looks after i wake up or shower or do anything made me need to sit down and inevitably still be upset when its over. i dreamt that i saw [redacted #2]. it was another one of those dreams where theres a big storm or tsunami or combination of the two and we all had to huddle in a school building that looks kind of like this one but not really. i was so excited to see her and i almost cried in my dream. but i barely saw her for the rest of the dream, she was off with [redacted #3] and her other friends and not me. i was left behind. they left without me. i’m not mad at her for this because she hasnt done this to me yet but i know she will so i guess im preemptively sad and mad and upset even though i have no reason to be and thats not fair to her. i am at myself and the person in front of me and how she treats me like im stupid and i dont want to be stupid and i know im not stupid but there is nothing i can do. i know that seems dramatic. “nothing i can do.” there is. there probably is. i really hope there is but at the same time i hope there isnt because then its true. i am stupid. i do get my work done or at least the work i know that i need to get done and my grades are fine i have like a 3.67 unweighted which isnt great but not like awful. i know i could do better. i know i could work harder. i have worked harder before but its gone now and shes gone now and im gone now. im gone now. im gone now. 

12.

“favs” - last updated 3/18/22 at 15:19

bc i always seem to forget

music

dirty computer - janelle monae

sawdust - the killers

sgt peppers lonely heart club band - the beatles

rubber soul - the beatles

stranger in the alps - phoebe bridgers

apricot princess - rex orange county

punisher - phoebe bridgers 

ow - pom pom squad

turkey dinner - pinky pinky

death of a cheerleader- pom pom squad

13.

“list of issues (current)” - last updated 8/17/22 at 07:46

- [ ] chronic/crippling fear of death (usually intrusive)

- [ ] shortness of breath/high resting heart rate

- [ ] trouble sleeping (falling asleep, keepingg eyelids closed, fear of dreams [lack of control], fear of unconsciousness)

- [ ] usually naseous or having abdominal issues

- [ ] head hurts all the time

- [ ] lack of control with my thoughts

- [ ] depression :( - am i taking too much of my meds?

14.

untitled - last updated 9/7/21 at 06:51

ah oui!! désolé, j’avais fatigué donc j’ai oublié envoyer un text. on est en bus et on va arriver à 15:16

merci pour ce skype!!! j’ai aimé faire de connaissance de votre famille :) j’étais enthousiaste d’aller avant mais maintenant je suis plus enthousiaste (j’ai pensé que c’est ne pas possible!). mes parents se sentent impatients à l’idée que je vais habiter avec vous. je ne peux pas attendre pour vous rencontrer en personne!!!

15.

“grocery list” - last updated 6/7/21 at 10:37

- [x] watermelon

- [ ] orange juice

- [ ] plants

- [ ] ice

- [ ] muffins

- [ ] 

16.

“bus writing assignment” - last updated 10/19/21 at 18:05

-doja cat plays

-everyone is on their phone, with wired headphones

-old bus or new? blue model with the facing hanging handicapped seats

-new bus, c3

-woman quiet her phone

-baby blows bubbles than screams, a child laughs

-people look up as siren passes

-12 year olds laugh and play hand games in the back

-girl with dyed hair (color i want)

-its so hot, holding my bag

-i can hear music of man standing near me

- vaguely familiar man walks in

- office man

- u express bag reminds me of my own

-- woman stands to get off, holding an umbrella, clear with ocean designs (why does she have umbrella? its sunny? i have an umbrella but its new. shes holding it like its fragile bht not new)

- almost miss my stop once i realize i dont know where i am

- lost in writing

- nvm got off one too early

- ill walk ig

17.

“wowowowow” - last updated 3/19/23 at 21:21 (excerpt 3/3)

i agree with the catholics sometimes

like when they mention gay people

and get that look in their eyes

i tilt my head down in shame

but i also put my head down to pray

/

i don’t know if being gay is a sin

but it sure as hell is a punishment

i wonder if future me is looking at me now

crying on the bus, mask soaked with tears

i know she is, because can feel her holding me

i feel her hug and her tears on my shoulders

i hope she’s happy in the way i want to be

18.

untitled - last updated 9/19/19 at 07:58

kantism: you must follow your moral code always with no exceptions, which is defined as something that is good in all situations (intent matters, impact does a bit). 

utilitarianism: do what makes the most people happy (intent doesn’t matter, impact does). morality is defined by amount of happiness.

contractialism: if you agree to a contract, explicit or not, you must follow it. while the contract may not benefit you at all times, it is better than living in a world of “natural law”, a world with no contracts and no security.

virtue theory: if we try to be good people, good actions will follow (good intent = good impact). everyone should be good people because it is in our nature, it is our function. you are good if you fulfill your function and bad if you do not

natural law theory: god gave us the ability to be good

[infiniteorbits]

despite; in spite

my throat hurts and i don't think it'll ever stop.

i throw a few more socks in my sisters laundry pile. i don’t know which ones are mine, yet i keep taking and taking hers. i’ll give her a few more just in case, and maybe she’ll be okay.

i think about how i could die tonight how i could really do it and kill myself and my families last memory of me would be yelling at me for not putting away the laundry. ‘was that what set her off? what was going on her in mind? were there signs i didn’t see?’ i don’t think i’m gonna do it, but i don’t really have a reason why.

i search for a roommate on instagram. they all feel too weird or too cool or too abstract to even think about as a real person. i wonder if i’ll even be friends with these people next year, if these little conversations will one day be linked to faces in my life. faces that mean something

i watch blade runner and think about how i told someone i had seen the movie and really hadnt. i posted about that on my private story. a girl too cool to be my friend swipes up and laughs

whenever i swallow or breath in a certain way i can still taste the sick on my tongue.

its been two weeks since i thought i was going to die, two weeks since i sucked a random man’s dick and didn’t really cry, its been a few days since i swiped up on his story and hoped he’d decide to like me again. a few days since i decided i really had to move on. one day since i sent a text ending a hookup to which he called me by my last name like one of the coaches does at my school. he called me a “cool person.” i don’t know what that means. he responded in 2 minutes after i hadn’t responded for a day. i don’t know what that means either.

i haven’t had my period since november. i haven’t looked skinny since freshman year. i wear eyeliner and mascara so often that the gunk from my eyes has turned black. i think about people who don’t exist and people i will never meet doing things that don’t affect me too much. i don’t know if anyone will ever really find me pretty, or only think i’m pretty because they love me. i don’t know whether the last part is a good thing or a bad thing. does it count if its just because they love me? if they have worked all the way up to love for me, they can call me whatever they want. if they love me and i somehow believe them, i think i’ll believe everything else they say about me too. i hope its just good things.

i don’t know if i could ever do having my heart broken. i met a guy once and we truly only had one good date, the others were just hookups but he made me feel so real, so teenager. he held me and let me look at the stars, he tucked my hair behind my ear and almost held my hand when we were kissing. as i was sitting on his lap, straddling him, my bra off, he said i intimidated him the first time we hung out. i sobbed over him and made playlists and wrote about him and regained and lost my self worth. i had to learn the hard way that people can do things that are so sweet and nice and not mean it. i’d like to still believe he did. i think i could be fine now. i don’t know how i could live if i lost the real thing. i dont know how someone can love someone so much then be nothing to them at all. i wish i wasn’t nothing to you. i wish i wasn’t nothing to the people i love.

im writing this on my bed. i’m writing this on my toilet. i’m writing this at 1 am. i’m writing this as a senior. i’m writing this as a child. i thought about how you spend your whole life growing and then one day you just stop. i wonder if you feel it. i wonder what its like when the change is the stop.

i wonder if my friends notice when i cut them off. if they talked about how they were all removed from the private parts of my life. i wonder if they were glad or confused or whether they cared at all. V seems to hate me. i miss when he cared about me. i liked being his wingwoman and having a secret little mission just for the two of us. i wish he liked me enough that we could talk about how they’re together now and he’d half jokingly thank me. i wish i could say it was an honor to be help him and make a little joke. i wish it wasn’t weird to tell people how much they mean to you even if they aren’t really a part of your life. i liked our little conversations, i liked when we locked eyes in class whenever someone said something stupid, though i could never really tell if you meant to be looking at me because i don’t know why’d you do that, i’m sorry if i came off as condescending and thought i was better or smarter than you. i don’t think that. i hope i can find more people like you in the world if you can’t stick around.

despite it all, i still have hope. i have hope that the people i once loved will come back again. i have hope that it’ll all be okay. it’s dumb and irrational to think they’ll come back, and i know this hope only hurts me. but i hope. i hope that this hope is real, that i will look back and know that my hopes were right and good and led me to goodness. i hope that if i cannot have you in my life, that i can find the good parts of you in the people who are. i hope the people who come into my life remind me of you and who we once were. i hope you hope for me too.

[infiniteorbits]

i shaved tonight

You hate walking up to his car. You hate putting yourself on display in the few seconds it takes to open his door, not knowing whether to smile or wave or walk or do a little jog and hope he doesn’t notice how weirdly you move through this world. You hate the soft smile you contain yourself to, the little “hey”s you share. You hate being in front of him, pretending that you don’t think about him as much as you do. You hate how much you want to kiss him, you hate not knowing how much he wants to kiss you, if he does at all.

You try to love the little conversation you share on the way to the parking lot, laughing when he turns left at a red light, reversing the car in the middle of the empty street. You sit there, almost jealous that there was a way he seemed to know the town you’ve lived in your whole life way deeper than you did. These secret spots, little roads to speed down, that had somehow escaped you, as if he had gotten more out of this town than you knew was even there, a secret side that had never opened up to you. But you sit there and smile: you love looking at him when he can’t look back, studying the shape of his nose and his shiny hair and his thrifted crewneck. You impatiently wait patiently while you two decide where to park the car. 

He makes fun of when you wore that shirt at the thrift store, you make fun of his Subaru. He asks to kiss you. What else is there to say?

At first he kisses you so gently. He kisses you like he knows you’d never really been kissed before. When he cups your face, your ear between his pointer and his thumb, he holds you like he knows you’ll do this a dozen more times. He kisses you even though he doesn’t want you in the way you hoped the first guy to kiss you like this would. 

And you kiss him back, just like all the movies and books taught you. You kiss him and pray that he thinks you’re a good kisser. When you run your hand through his hair, your fingers gently cradling his head, you close your eyes a little harder. You kiss him even though you don’t know anything about each other.

You kiss and do things that you will never tell your parents about, cataloging each moment to carefully retell back to your friends. Is that weird? Does he tell his friends about you? Do they know about you? You remember when he told his dad that he was hanging out with his friend when you were in the car. You laughed about it then, you might do the same now. 

You keep kissing him. You stop when he says it's almost his curfew. You ask him what you are. He tells you “nothing too committed.” Those words echo in your head for days to come. They appear when he cancels on you that weekend. They appear again when he posts pictures with friends and other girls. They appear once more in Bio class when there’s nothing to really think about.

And you’ll want to play “your” songs, you’ll want to play Sidney Gish and TV Girl and Frank Ocean. You’ll want to listen to “Waiting Room” over and over again. You’ll want to be the first person he thinks of drunk texting. You’ll want him to want to get drunk because he wants to text you everything he’s thinking -- everything that he thinks about you. Because he’s been thinking about you. You’ll want to scream and write songs and make playlists and draw -- God, you can’t draw but you’ll want to. You’ll want to go crazy. Does he remember when you told him your middle name? Does he think about the time you called him cute? Does he know why you hate left turns? Does he want to? Do you even want him to?

And you hate that it's easier to write about him when you’re depressed. “If I loved you less I could talk about it more.” And you hate that now everything reminds you of him, how he’s taken up tiny little corners of your brain, every nook and cranny and simple voice inflections and smells take you running back to him; you’re swapped and the background is pulled out from under you, blurring away until you find yourself standing in the middle of your mind with his smile and head thrown back right in front of you --- how did you get here? How did he get here? When did we get here? And this story is getting taken away from you and running and twirling into a stream of consciousness. He’ll text you tonight. You know he’ll text you tonight. Do you really like him enough for all of this? You can look, really look, and know: no. But there is something about being “loved,” being validated(?), being seen in this new way, in any new way, that takes over you. It exhumes you, it brings you not back to life but into life in this new way. How am I supposed to become new with you? New, when you can’t promise a text back? New, when you don’t even really care? New, when I don't even really care? How am I supposed to leave my girlhood all by myself? 

But this is about you. It always has been. You are okay with this. You are not boy-crazy and you are not weird. 

Do you see what you did to me? What you’ve done to me? 

What do you want from me tonight?

[infiniteorbits]

mourn

i’m much too much.

there is so much wrong with me its almost hard to count. i don’t know why i feel like this. why i keep feeling like this. this is also so embarrasing and cringey and god so middle school. every single thought i have makes me want to rip my fucking head off. i hate living like this. i hate living in this body. i hate this body. my legs are short and fat and stubby and i have the most disgusting kankles. my fingers are short and meaty. my boobs go off in different directions and my nipples are ovular and so fucking big. my neck and chin are full of fat like my face where my eyes are so far apart. my nose is obtuse and bumpy and my teeth are crooked and yellow. and god my stomach. its so fucking large and round and disgusting and im a 32 and i used to be a 29 and now look at me. like a 29 is even good. and i want to blame this all on my birth control or growing up or whatever but does it even matter. i look like this. i walk around and talk and eat and exist like this. people look at me like this. or maybe they don’t. thats the dilemna right now. is it worse if they hate me or don’t even care? all of my friends. everyone even remotely connected to my circle went to a halloween party hosted by the guy i could like. everyone but me. am i too large? too loud? too annoying? why don’t they tell me they hate me? why don’t they tell me to fuck off and kill myself? it would be so much easier for me and them because they wouldn’t have to see me and i wouldn’t have to get hurt. it has to be my fault. there isnt any other way. when everyone leaves me i have to be the problem. but no one is telling me what i have to do. how can i make you love me? or even tolerate me? do i need to lose weight (yes)? do i need to stop talking (yes)? or does it not matter. is it some kind of intrisinc me-ness that you hate. or do you not even hate me at all. i’m a shadow, chiming in on conversations. a voice that can make you laugh but does not need to be named. and i’m crying and huffing and puffing in bed and its all so embarrasing. i thought i was past this. i thought i grew up and loved myself and i wasn’t 13 anymore. i thought i wasn’t unloved anymore. i want to disapear. i’m not gonna kill myself but i want to spend all of my frees in the library. i want to stop showing up to school. no one has ever reached out before when i leave— wouldn’t it be a blessing? i keep thinking about this comic that i saw on tiktok.

(image from the i am not okay with this comic)

“this is my gift to them.” let this be my gift to you. i’ll leave you all alone. you get to be free of me, which is something that i can finally see you all want. i won’t die, because that would require you to pretend you care, to pretend to acknowledge my existence. i can hide in the library, i can scurry to grab lunch then leave. i won’t talk to you in classes. i’ll get in, get out. i can be a ghost of someone you know, no need for ouija boards. and for some of you, im okay with letting you go. you didn’t seem to care that much before. but god, i really wish SW still cared. i don’t know why you hate me. i love you so much. i like to pretend that im angry at you and think you’re a bitch and i don’t care but i do. i remember sophomore year when you slept over at my house and we went sledding in the back yard on the same sled. and we laid down on that little hill and just stared at the stars above. it was so quiet, just you and me alone in the universe. i don’t know how you can leave me. i can’t ever leave you. i shouldnt be surprised when you’ve picked me up and dropped me down again and again, but i can never stop loving you. i thought you were my best friend. i thought i meant something to you. the beginning of this year, not even 2 months ago you said that. you said that i was different and real and you fucking loved me. what did i do? how did i become so uncool to you? i don’t care anymore what you’ve done to me i just want you back. i want to lay down on my sledding hill and stare up at the stars and feel the miracle of being alive with you. and i know if you ever read this you would throw up at how gross this is and think that i’m in love with you or something. i want to move away from everything and go to college and start over but i know that i’ll miss you. i don’t want to fade away from you. and i know i already have. thats the worst part. i know its too late. i know you’re gone. in my search to become a ghost you’ve died too. and you haunt me without intentions, you haunt me passively because i know you don’t care. haunt is such a physical word. there’s action, a meaning, an intention. you haunt me like a flame haunts a moth. you just exist, and it tears me to shreds. this is all psychotic and disgusting and creepy and i know none of you care as much as i do. not in the way that everyone is cold and calculating but in the way that i feel for things that don’t exist, i mourn friendships that could not die because they were never born. i’ll try not to see you all tomorrow. i give this to you with love.

[infiniteorbits]

mortality

i've been confronting my own mortality a lot recently. its kinda fucking annoying. every single thought eventually leads to: oh my god i'm gonna die one day and all of this is gonna be over. and yeah, its true, but that doesn't make this recurring thought any less annoying.

i think the first person i remember dying was my grandmother. i was 4 or 5 and my parents had gone away on a "little vacation." when they came back they sat us down for a "family meeting," which struck me as odd; their pretending that this was simply a normal occurence when i don't think we had ever had a "family meeting" before then. they sat me and my siblings down and told us that my grandmother died. i remember bursting into tears, sobbing. i don't remember if my dad cried. i imagine he did.

there are several things that strike me now, looking back on that memory. first, the intelligence to sense something wrong. i was only five yet immediately spotted the strangeness of a "family meeting." but second, and more importantly, that i cried. maybe i'm wrong and i clearly don't remember much at that age, but to process death and recognize that it's sad seems so bizzare to me. i was so young and so little and even then i knew what death was, what it meant.

i guess it's time to get to the part that i've been dreading, the point of this. confronting it. i don't know where it came from or why but just all the time, i'm thinking and worrying about death. it's just little things that cause this boom in my stomach, like someone dropped a brick on a tent and just pushed all the air out. a weird metaphor i guess. it's not so much of the air getting sucked out but the thud and sudden absence of air as it rushes out. does that make any sense? am i making sense?

and god, it's

everywhere

i look at my 9 year old dog, who's heart is in good condition, and immediately the tent collapses with a pfoom: she is gonna die before i finish college.

my parents turned fifty and pfoom, their lives are more than halfway over.

my grandparents? pfoom.

my friends? pfoom.

an actor i like? pfoom.

pfoom. pfoom. pfoom.

i don't know why, i'm 17 and have so much more life to live (i hope). is it because of college apps? is it because my grandfather is sick and for the first time i'm realizing that he could actually die? is it all of the celebrities in the news (olivia newton-john!! i loved grease!!!)? is it just an age thing? the seventeen-scaries, u realize everyone is gonna die.

i need to stop, i keep catching myself saying "time to confront it" then going off on a tangent.

one day, i'm gonna die.

one day, my dogs are gonna die.

my friends will die.

my parents will die.

my grandparents will die.

all of it. the whole nine yards. the whole shebang. all that and a bag of chips.

groovy.

i'm not gonna cry right now but i did last night. i was petting my dog and just started crying. talking to her as she just waited for me to keep petting her. does she know? does she know she's closer to the end then the beginning? my other dog, clementine, died before her eyes, does she think about that often? i remember her looking around, waiting for her to come back. she knew clem was gone, but she couldn't believe it, just like the rest of us. and now i really wanna cry. i won't. but i really wanna.

the only thing comforting myself is this false sense of calm i can put over myself, a delusional acceptance of all of this. that death and life are natural parts of the same cycle, without death life has no meaning, and whatnot. i read something like exhalation by ted chiang and pretend that it brings me bliss. the beauty of life and death and culture and all that we have built.

but i don't wanna die. god, i don't wanna die. i don't wanna live in a world without my mom and my dad and my siblings and my dogs and my friends and my grandparents and one day my partner.

and now i'm crying. and nothing's even happened. i'm sitting in my kitchen, my family alive and well, and i'm crying. i'm wasting my life crying over this but at the same time i can't ignore it.

i wanna believe in heaven, i really truly do. i wanna believe there's some plan for me and the people i love and that we get to spend eternity together in paradise. i would give everything and anything for that to be true. i can't say it is 100% implausible, but i can't tell you that i believe that my journey will lead me to heaven.

what a cruel fucking trick life is.

and all of this leads into my journey with religion/belief or nonbelief, how awful this world is, and how depressed everything makes me.

and it's hard because i don't want this, i don't want to feel like this. the world sucks and we're all gonna die but can't i tell my brain to just leave it alone? it's inevitable!!! it's out of my control!!! there's nothing i can do about it!!!! leave me alone!!!! i want to live and be happy and not have everything spiral into everything wrong with this world but i can't.

so where do we round this off, where do we find the point to all of this. i don't wanna face my mortality, but i have to, and i face it too often to the point where its plaguing my life, religion is a scam unless it isn't and do i believe in god because maybe He exists or because of american suburbia, who knows, and i'm tricking myself into thinking everything's fine otherwise i'll go crazy but i know it's not fine and i'm tricking myself and i'm going crazy anyways.

maybe i should start seeing my therapist again. but i don't think she'll know what to do either

[infiniteorbits]

almost started crying in the car to this song, thinking of u. its hard bc i didnt have a romantic love for u like all of the songs on my playlist. i miss u. i miss my best friend.

i remember how excited we were, planning to go to college near each other so we could stay best friends. our little shrines to each other and matching bracelets. writing letters for fun with our valentines gifts, saying we knew that we’d last for ever, for ever.

i remember this year someone asked me why we were best friends, “what pulled us together?” i faltered, and nearly stopped walking. what did keep us together? i made up some bullshit answer abt how we grew together and liked anime and didn’t judge eachother and laughed and shopped and did things best friends did. that satisfied her well enough. i couldn’t stop thinking about her question. i missed you and loved you and loved you and wasn’t that enough?

i can’t pinpoint when we became friends, or even best friends.

we had the same english class in 7th grade and i thought you were cool because you were friends with popular people and were funny and you wore a bra (which at that age was more like a tank top that cut off a bit above the end of your ribcage) and you could clearly see it because your shirt was so see-through but that made it even cooler. you were mature and understood people and had acne. you’ve always been so embarrassed of your acne, but to me, i thought it made you cool.

we volunteered for the local woman’s shelter together in 8th grade. i consider that when we became friends but i had already gone to a concert with you and some other people when you all slept over at my house before school started. i choose to forget that. chronologically it comes first, but to me we started in that van listening to ariana grande. you were sweetner, glossier, madewell: clean.

i left my then best friend for you because i hated her and i was right to do so. you were friends with her and you know what she did and you never stopped being friends with her. that happens a lot. but i was so honored, amazed, that you would even talk to me. i was forever 21, low rise ripped skinny jeans, musicals, p!atd, tumblr, gay, full of pit stains and scars and the exact opposite of you. maybe you saw that flash of a diamond in me, that i wanted to wear urban outfitters and glossier and rex orange county and something other than this. you were right. i can’t fault you for that.

i’m supposed to be mad in all of this. i’m supposed to be detailing how fucked we were and how awful our friendship was and how i always hated you but i can’t. its a lie. i know it and you know it you know it so well. you’ve seen me cry about how you saved me and i was so close to gone and how i love you and miss you and i have never lied once. this is why i hate this and i have to write out all of this. you were all of that to me. you are all of that to me. for ever, you will be that to me. i just wish you could have stuck around, or i guess at this point that i could have stuck around. maybe i will, you still have time to save me again. you can always save me again.

i left in 9th grade and ran back. kids can be cruel and tell your secrets and know things you’ve never even said. you’ve never been cruel. you don’t have a cruel bone in your body. i wish you did. i wish you’d hurry up and hate me so i can scorch this earth and not look back. but you welcomed me back and told me what i wanted to hear in the student center bathroom. you gave me the coming out i wanted and needed. you didn’t change or leave. “we’ve grown together” is what i told ada. we have, we had.

you dated my crush and then got a panic attack off of my edibles and then watched aot with me every saturday and then applied to study abroad and then went with me. without me. i had grown with you, why couldn’t we grow together again, just a bit further away?

my friend said you seem like you didn’t change after this year. she said i did. everyone comes up to me and says i seem different. i don’t feel different, but my parents say i hold myself differently: with a new confidence. i realized a lot about myself in the last two years. i wish you would tell me how you changed. i know this sounds pretentious and that i’m patting myself on the back and i hope you never read this. because i don’t want any of this to be true. i want you to text me right now. i want you to tell me your sorry and i’ll apologize for making a big deal out of nothing and we’ll be together again.

but it wasn’t nothing. you picked her over me then the whole group over me again and again and again. you didn’t tell me when you had your first kiss and you didn’t seem upset when i couldn’t see you for nye and you dated my crush. i know its petty and its dumb and there is no but. i can’t justify this. come and tell me i’m being dumb because you love me. come and tell me i’m wrong. i know i’m asking for action but all i need is for you to make the first move. for once please choose me. just one text.

i want to stop sobbing. i want to delete the playlist about you, the post about you, the everything bad about you. grow back to me.