josephineinc

[josephineinc]

12/3/23

MARIE ANTOINETTE

i am not giving my all into anything that i do.

only the things that do not matter.

or if i think it will lead me to love,

but it never does and i am tired of waiting.

have i not been patient?

have i not been understanding?

maybe it is because i want it too much.

maybe i am lonely by God’s intent, for He must know that i could not handle my own emotions when it inevitably ends.

He does tend to be pretty wise.

there has always been this constant in my life,

that i will always want the things that i cannot have,

or do not feel i deserve.

either of the two works.

but i have gotten very good at yearning.

in fact, it may be what i am best at.

wanting,

craving,

i have gotten many cavities from this sweet tooth.

and so, i go to sleep every night with my mouth sore,

along with my heart.

but at least i go to sleep thinking of you.

[josephineinc]

10/15/23

i just want love and i want devotion.

i’m always left with their ghosts and my emotions.

i’m used to my own company by now but it’s not enough.

can’t imagine a version of myself that has found love.

xx

josephine

[josephineinc]

10/14/23

over the years, i’ve noticed that my world changes temporarily every time i finish a book. i assume that’s all fairly common, but i have managed to make myself a character in every book i’ve ever read. sometimes, i replace the main character, mostly, i am only an observer. it is one of the only things that does not change when i enter other worlds. i am an observer if nothing else. i see myself in these stories, dressed how i imagine they would. i even think like they do for a while.

reading always makes my writing better. i always forget that.

xx

josephine

[josephineinc]

10/14/23

i imagine myself in worst case scenarios so that at least i can heal from them in my mind. as far as trauma goes, i do not have much, but there is something inside of me who expects it will happen at any given moment. i suppose that part of me would want to be prepared if the time ever comes.

xx

josephine

[josephineinc]

10/14/23

i am somewhat of a collage.

printing out pieces of myself on paper;

putting them back together again by hand.

maybe i’ll have just the right amount of control

this time.

if i try hard enough, i might get it right.

i avoid mirrors when i put on my makeup;

something like lipstick on a pig.

forcing all of my clothes to fit.

this must be how it starts.

every year that passes i look more like my

mother

and act more like my father.

must be the curse of being the eldest daughter.

they bring out the worst of each other and the

worst in me.

i fear i am destined to be the way that i am.

xx

josephine

[josephineinc]

10/13/23

all i wanted when i was 5 was to be a ballerina. i thought it was the most beautiful thing a woman could be. i wished and wished but lessons were too expensive. my parents had me and two infants to provide for. it just wasn’t in the budget.

growing up, i used to finish entire books in less than an hour. i became characters or at least an observer, and then carried on with my day when i was finished. when i was about 8, i decided that reading was not enough and that i wanted to become a writer. i looked at all the books on my shelves and assumed it would be easy. i had an assignment in my third grade class to write a short biography about someone. i chose Queen Elizabeth I. after over 10 pages, i realized it might not be as easy as i thought. my teacher said that i had written too much and i got marked down. it was the first time i remember putting my all into something and regretting it. i debated whether i should go back to wanting to be a ballerina.

at 10, i saw an episode of the X factor for the first time. i was obsessed. i dreamed of preforming on that stage, a standing ovation, somehow convincing simon cowell to like me. i had never wanted anything that bad. i wished for nothing more than to be able to sing. that summer, i got my first i pod, and i forgot all about reading.

when i was in high school, i tried multiple times to keep a journal. i never stuck with it. life seemed to be moving way too fast. i didn’t have enough time to write down all of the things i so desperately wanted to remember. my freshman year, i used to copy poetry and lyrics down for inspiration. anything that made me felt. i found a band at 15 whose lyrics made me want to write my own. and i did just that.

throughout high school, i wrote every chance i got. i started a couple of stories i never finished. the last pages in all of my school notebooks were potential lyrics. it was a huge, yet relatively secret part of my life. i wrote through every relationship, every breakup, every minor or major event in my life.

in the winter of 2021, at 19 i was the most depressed i had ever been. i had dropped out of online school and was doing nothing but rotting within myself. and writing. every time that i wrote it got more depressing. none of my friends were around and although i knew i had support, i couldn’t see it. it took me a while to climb out of that hole.

here i am now, at 21. i don’t read nearly as much anymore, although i have intentions to start back up again. i don’t write as much either. for the last year or so, i’ve gone through phases; either i write constantly or hardly at all. but i still want nothing more than to be all of those things that i wanted to be growing up. (with the exception of a ballerina, but last semester i seriously considered taking a ballet class, so maybe that’s also in my future.) i think i stopped writing because i accepted that i wouldn’t really get anywhere. i would love to be a musician, but i can’t sing and i can’t play an instrument. my words are all i have and i’m not sure that that’s enough. i’m hoping that posting on here will encourage me to practice writing more frequently and that eventually i will finally write something that i like. fingers crossed.

xx

josephine