introspectiveconfessions

[introspectiveconfessions]

“Solidarity isn’t easy and why did you think it would be?”

Yeah. I’ve been crying to this song since yesterday.

Interestingly enough, I watched a video essay yesterday afternoon prior to my sobbing about how solidarity isn’t easy. The YT vid itself is called “solidarity is supposed to be hard.” By Elliot Sang.

Maybe it’s synchronicity, maybe it’s my algorithm, or maybe it’s the Woke Left, but yeah I watched this video and then hours later I went on a deep dive of this song and the trends surrounding it. When I say I sobbed I MEAN IT. I was showing my mom, I was sending to friends, I was reposting on my TT. It was a whole thing and I’m still emotional.

I am not Puerto Rican, I’m not Hispanic or Latinx, I don’t even speak beginner level Spanish, and I most definitely cannot relate to the short film posted by Bad Bunny. All that to say, it didn’t stop me from grieving.

The TT trends surrounding this song typically involves photos of loved ones, pets, or childhood homes synchronized to the lyrics. The individuals who developed the trend are Puerto Rican and/or hispanic. This is the first time I’ve watched more Spanish speaking TTs over English speaking TTs. While the language of Spanish is one I don’t understand, grief is a universal language and one of the few universal human experiences everyone shares.

I’m well acquainted with grief. I’ve lost a lot in my life BUT this grief is different. This is the loss of not only a loved one, a childhood home, or a pet. This is the loss of culture at the hands of colonialism. This grief that I have not experienced but can feel the weight of through this media is by far heavier than the grief I’ve experienced.

I had knowledge of how cultural erasure is prevalent in society today, but to say I was really aware would be a lie. I can confidently say that my first experience with how devastating colonialism is, was the October 7th attacks. That truly marked what I would consider my “radicalization.”

This song captured those feelings all over again. I didn’t realize how numb I had become to the horrors of the world. I don’t want to be numb again. I’m not even sure how it happened tbh I think life just continued for me which is such a a privilege. I was still following Palestinians, but I was seeing less and less. Maybe due to my algorithm, maybe due to censorship, or maybe due to my own lack of seeking out information.. idk but my media consumption revolved more around US media. I didn’t stop thinking of Palestine it just wasn’t as ever present on my mind. It was still there, just not at the forefront. I was thinking of the California wildfires, the upcoming presidential term, American women’s rights, and capitalism.

Writing it all out is kind of laughable bc these things are all linked to each other like intersectionality never stopped. Bad Bunny just pulled it all together for me again and was like hey? People are still dying, we should take more photos. Homelands are still being destroyed, I wish we never lost them. Native people are still being forced out of their homes, I wish they’d never have to live apart from their homes. Our whole climate is being destroyed and it’s destroying us. Did you think you’d be immune, Americans? California is on fire, the south is about to freeze over, North Carolina is still dealing with hurricane helene. Did you think that our government would stop with its own people?

I hate this country, but I love my home. I hate the government, but I love serving my community. I love everything everyone has done to spite this country. I wish it was more, i wish it was enough, I wish it wasn’t necessary, I wish no one ever suffers again. I could cry all my tears but what good would that do? So, I keep taking photos, I keep sharing photos, I keep listening, I’ll keep posting, I’ll keep my anger loud, I’ll keep these things at the forefront of my mind. Solidarity isn’t easy but… neither is being at the hands of colonialism sooo..

Another thing I’ve been saying/seeing lately is that healing isn’t easy. Recovery is not meant to be comfortable. Did you think you’d be instantly well after surgery? Did you think that wearing a brace for your broken wrist would be painless? Did you think you could stitch yourself back together without a needle piercing your flesh? Did you expect your skin wouldn’t bruise after your flesh was sliced open?

In many ways I feel like that’s solidarity. Healing and recovery isn’t easy and is supposed to take time. You lose people when you place your priorities on different things. You lose things when you align yourself with certain causes. You lose some privileges when you present a different way. Does it suck? I mean relatively in the grand scheme of things.. life can just suck in general but do the benefits out weigh the other bullshit and can you put your own discomfort aside to connect with other humans?

Solidarity and suffering and grief and pain and colonialism has been on my mind. I thought maybe getting these thoughts out would help me feel the emotions better too. Debí tirar más fotos de cuando te tuve. Debí darte más beso y abrazo las vece que pude.

Ojalá que los tus nunca se muden.

[introspectiveconfessions]

a movie per week in 2025 #1 anora (2024)

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— DERRY GIRLS 2.03 — FLEABAG 2.03

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I feel like my old self again.

Seinfeld – 6.16: The Beard

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[introspectiveconfessions]

“maybe if I wasn’t so into the idea that I have to be depressed to make good art then I would make more of it.”

a discussion by an anonymous loser girl who can’t decide how to define herself or if she should even try to define herself. 🫶🏽

hello void! Long time, no posts! There is nothing satisfying or interesting happening in my life at this particular moment so I’m gonna try ONCE AGAIN to document things on this godforsaken hellscape of an internet. Maybe texting things out instead of picking up a legitimate pen will help me to journal/blog. “What’s the purpose of blogging?” the void asks. Great question, void. My answer is simple. I DONT FUCKING KNOW. I need to get these thoughts out bc why tf not I guess but also maybe someone else will relate? Maybe I’ll find community? Maybe I’ll just be another data point that’s ignored by everyone? Idk dude. I’m tired and I want to complain. Is that okay with you? No? Who cares. I’m doing it anyways and tbh I never asked for your opinion and even if I did I’m not sure I would care about it until late at night when I begin to think about every interaction I’ve ever had.

Let’s talk about ME

My least favorite but also my favorite subject. I’ve been watching a lot of video essays and thought daughter tiktoks as of late and I’ve come to the conclusion that I think I’m a loser. A girl failure, a femcel, a weird woman… if you will or if you won’t. So the thing is, I grew up adjacent to American School culture but not in it, just an observer of it. This has done wonders for my psyche bc I was able to establish myself as an archetype whenever I wanted but never had the data to back up my validity. Am I poser? Most definitely. I did not have the social standing in my community to fit into a specific group and become defined. There was no status quo for me to chase. It was just me, on the bleachers. I was watching every other child and adolescent close to my age find their social standing and redefine it, get lost in it, or be rejected by society! And I was merely an observer, a fan, an audience member. So now as an adult I am surrounded by individuals who had that opportunity and they’ve moved past the implications of high school. But does high school ever end? I wouldn’t know bc high school wasn’t something I did. Was I jock? Was I a nerd? Was I a theater kid? (I definitely was not a theater kid.) but I never knew and I certainly don’t know now! Is it relevant? Probably not. But I’m having trouble finding an identity in which I can relate to people with, that is excluding my close circle of friends of course. All of this has become a burgeoning thought bc I started a new job, I’m planning to go back to school, and the schools I am entertaining are NO where near my current home. Meaning within a year or two, I will be in an entirely different community and having to introduce myself to strangers as a no name, no identity, no social standing… loser/person. All of which has never stopped me before, but… it’s been on my mind more presently than it ever has before. I have always been fine as an observer. It’s quite exciting to see how people interact with each other especially when they are forced into a situation in which they never would have otherwise interacted with each other.

What do I mean when I say I am a loser? To provide clarification, I don’t mean it in a negative context. I think of myself as an outlier in my community. My thoughts and opinions are somewhat in opposition of the cultural norm. My interests are more closely aligned with characterizations of a “‘morally bankrupt woman”. I call that reality but that’s not everyone’s reality. Here are the facts.

- my screen time is laughably high.

- I’m obsessed with off putting things

- I have no interest in aligning myself with trends

- I’m a big fan of being leisurely

- I like ugly things

This all kind of reads like a loser. I’m successful at keeping a job, I can win at certain things in life. But I definitely have had my fair share of failures. Can I make a friendship or relationship last? Sometimes but my history is kind of… it’s not great. Am i interested in improving those odds? I think it would be remiss to say… nah, I really don’t care. Fuck it we ball. ✌🏽

lol I also can’t even ball. I’m sure if I put in the practice I could be an average athlete but my feet are so uncoordinated they barely walk correctly.

Why am I talking about being a loser so much? Idk it’s been on my mind maybe bc I feel like a walking contradiction as of late. If you looked at me and made a snap judgement, loserdom isn’t exactly the vibe I give off. But I definitely feel like I’m an incognito loser. 🧐

Dude. Upon writing that last sentence… I came to the conclusion I have IMPOSTER SYNDROME. Jesus Christ, how much more of a loser CAN I GET. 😫That’s literally so typical I’m gonna have to commit an action of death agains myself. Character assassination…

More like character: ass of the nation amiright ladies?

Fuck. Someone take me out back. I need to stfu. Anyways that is my headspace will comment more later. I’m kind of invested in this finding Nemo ambiance video I got going on rn. It’s literally sea life with the soundtrack of finding Nemo in the background. I’m obsessed. Brb I gotta drink a coke and play solitaire with this massive vibe I’ve bequeathed myself with.

btw my title is very misleading. I’m not talking about art at all unless you consider me art. My character as a form of art? Bruh. If my character was an art style I just know it would be something so pretentious.

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LISA FRANKENSTEIN (2024) dir. Zelda Williams

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JENNIFER'S BODY (2009) dir. Karyn Kusama

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i have nothing in common with most men but i have something in common with every woman

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just a girl in her 20s who’s sitting on the floor and contemplating things instead of doing something about them

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FLEABAG: S02E01 SAM SAX: HYDROPHOBIA

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I’m also already dead and haunting everything I come in contact with.

i am in my 20s but also in my teenage years and also in my 40s

[introspectiveconfessions]

Far as I can tell, I’ve always been fighting. Fighting to exist, fighting to take up space in my own home, fighting to be heard, fighting to be seen. It’s become my way of life, my autopilot. Suddenly, I met them and they offered nothing but peace. Can a soldier have purpose with no war to fight? Can a fighter put down her weapons and have idle hands? I’d try with my whole self but the instincts may never die and the weapons may never rust. Would it be enough for you if I never traded my armor for robes? Would I be enough if I never slept with both eyes closed?

Until next time, anonymity.

[introspectiveconfessions]

I have so much rage, an infallible, unimaginable, unbearable amount of rage. But I would grind my teeth to nubs, file my nails to the quick, solder my iron weapons into garden gates, and return to poetry if you asked me to. All my rage would melt if you asked me to see good.

Anonymity.

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[introspectiveconfessions]

— Franz Kafka, The Blue Octavo Notebooks