The Horrors Persist but So Do I

How much self-awareness is too much self-awareness? Like, where does this self-awareness become debilitating? When does it stop working for the powers of good and start self-distracting? Self-awareness. Overthinking. Rumination. Very much aware of the all-over-the-place use of literary devices; it’s meant to trigger something. Plato who? Clock it!( I love saying this so much it's becoming a problem) I truly think it’s a curse, this self-awareness that I have. Heavy is the head because I kid you not, I will ruminate? Can we say that? Myself into a bad mood. Part and parcel of why I’ve not been on here in so long. Did you catch the subtext? I’ve missed you, dearest reader. With that, here’s a list of things that are definitely none of your business : Why someone hasn’t texted you back (lmao if I haven’t texted you back and have posted on my Instagram story, I’m literally doing this for clicks sksks) How much someone is eating or not eating Bodily change? What someon...

 When they opened the salt & vinegar crisps packet, they were surprised to find me in there — cause I’ve been locked in. (Clock it.) I’m a plant mum! Three succulents and one fake plant (she’s thriving, thank you). I would insert an out-of-pocket anecdote here but I’m trying not to get cancelled on this here internet… still holding out hope that I’ll blow up and never have to set an alarm again. insert Shrek looking up meme. Yes, chat, I want it the easy way. Absolutely. Anyway — I’m getting into a new skill (UI/UX babyyy), and good lord. Let me laugh so I don’t cry. Someone needs to stand over me with a cane like a Victorian schoolteacher, because if left to my own devices...sigh They say procrastination is the thief of time? No ma’am. Procrastination is the saver of time. And also my bestie. Catch me back in the crisps packet.

 I hate to say it—but maybe the key is having something to look forward to. Something small, maybe even silly. An activity, y’know? A plan. A moment on the calendar that isn’t just “wake up, survive, sleep, repeat.” And not to toot my own horn too much, but I had two things happening this weekend. Three, technically—I just couldn’t make the third (social battery said: no ma’am). But the two I did make it to? Low-energy, chill, exactly my speed. No pressure to perform or be “on.” Just… existing around people who make me feel good. I forget how healing that can be. Being around friends who don't need you to be anything more than present. Who laugh with you. Sit in silence with you. Share fries with you. Healing, I’m telling you. So now it’s Monday morning and guess what? I’m pumped full of endorphins. Not in an overly caffeinated, take-on-the-world way. Just this soft, steady hum in my chest that says: you're okay. You're cared for. You had a good weekend. You know what...

  The first step of any meaningful pursuit is to severely underestimate its difficulty. A tweet I saw. This is radicalizing me because I will stop attempting something I had interest in if I do not immediately excel at it. What’s that complex? God? Anyways. Been reading a lot of short-form content because the books I’m finding are not keeping me sat and are ruining my sleep schedule. I miss that. I need that. But back to what I’m saying... I got to reading about inventions, and I’m a history nut already, but I’m really loving history of things —specifically, inventions made out of love. To be loved is to be known and considered because check it. But first—did you catch that? Romanticizing everything? Yeah. Back to it... surgical gloves , band-aids , Wordle —this was a surprise for me because I thought it was just a paper filler. The telephone —see, I thought this was Mr. Graham, but turns out some Italian chap invented it while working in his basement lab at home. His wife was ...

The sunset. Rainy mornings you get to sleep in. Date nights  Vacations that go by too fast. Sunday afternoons wrapped in stillness. Your favorite song on repeat. Your favorite movie, even when you know all the lines. The smell of old books. Late-night drives with no destination. That sandwich bite. Handwritten notes. Flowers growing through pavement cracks. The way light filters through your window. Worn-out kicks that feel like a second skin. Laughing until your stomach hurts. I could go on forever, but I’ll let you think of some. <3

 Did the lashes, by the way— a hit. Love my brain because I truly belong to the School of How Hard Can It Be , DIY faculty. Please do not have me understanding complex math and science things. I can , but those things have little to no wiggle room. Can you tell? Can you tell my issues with rules? Anyway, you know what we need to bring back? "I know you’re asleep, but…"  paragraphs . Man, I used to send these to everyone —they just added to the whimsy we all need in our lives, y’know? Currently watching? Grey’s Anatomy . McDreamy? Not my dream. This man is a villain every two episodes. I need Mer to stand tf up! Currently loving? Wings. The fries are implied—love them forever. Currently missing? You. (Writer rizz. Take it or leave it.) I’m on Substack right now as a reader, and wow —it’s like reading someone’s journal. Like tea, but consensual. Recently saw on there that to be a better writer, you need to read more. I agree, but also disagree—because, like… plagiarism, yo...

They really should have taught us tax stuff in school. And, like, money stuff. Because trying to cram all this information while simultaneously mismanaging my finances? Quite the experience. And don’t even get me started on starting a business—it’s 2015 again, I’m back in a chemistry class, and spoiler alert: the information is going in one ear and out the other. (And before anyone says anything, I’m not dumb. If you know me personally, shut up.) Anyway, I haven’t had coffee for the past two days. Instead, I’ve been drinking black flavored tea. The headaches are there, the intense craving is there, but somehow— not me beating the addiction allegations?! Author’s Note: I will be back to that coffee drink, and I will be paying back the cups I have missed. End of Author’s Note. Also, I need to stop describing myself as a shy girl because why is my voice all over Instagram? Sigh. Haven’t yapped on here in a while, but my brain fog is brazy right now. I kid you not, I can only focus on...