1. Things - April 17th

    - Last year today I was on a train.

    - you’re really hungry

    Things to do today :

    - Sew a shirt

    - Sew pants

    - buy a zipper and some buttons

    - probably call my mom and tell her I spend all my money and I feel awful but I need to feed the guinea pigs which I’m pretty sure need to go to the vet 


    - Yesterday you were told that a bra that’s too small will probably fit you by the end of the summer, that means someone believes that you’ll lose weight

    - You’ve also made plans to marathon star wars with that guy. You don’t know how you feel about this. 

  2. Dizzy up the girl

    Air has a large impact on who I am lately. As I sit still on the ground typing this up, a heater blows warm air onto my chilled body. The temperature of the house has not lowered but it feels like cold air has sunk into my skin. 

    I can’t notice it, but I must be taking short breaths. My chest and arms feel heavy and out of place, my head simultaneously light and heavy. My body isn’t conscious of the reduced oxygen on more than a symptoms of a larger problem basis. 

    Inside I feel like I’m gasping for air. Why won’t this dizzy spell fade into a memory?

    All my pent up anxiety about money, and school, and friends, and pets, and my future are being absorbed through my skin and exerted as that painful shortness of breath and uncontrollable invisibility of my body. 

    It feels like you can just push right through me. 

    I hate myself so much. I hate how I’m just sabotaging my academics. It pains me greatly that I’m just letting it accumulate while I do absolutely nothing. I just sit on my bed, in my duvet and drift between consciousness and sleep.  

    I hate myself for pitying myself so much. I hate my absorption in my emotions. My need for attention. My laziness. My lack of talent and my need for an identity. 

    I just want to disappear so badly instead of confronting what I’m ignoring. I suppose this is why I’m dizzy. 

    The other night I stayed up and watched the moon shrink and grow. 

  3. The days float by endlessly looping from morning to evening to dusk to dawn again. As they do so the the reminder of a not quite finished past weighs down on me like the heavy burden of my unshackled chest. Part of me pulling down, stretching my skin and causing aches in my body. 

    It’s not much I have to do, but a sadness and laziness stops me. 

    I have eaten most of my food in the house and my stomach gurgles. I have spent most of my money and I owe more too. A call of disappointment is leering round the corner. 

    And what shall I do differently when my obligations end? I say I shall, but will I?

  4. "You’re generation is drinking for the wrong reasons!"

    I hear my uncle’s voice echo through through the lobby of the Mexican hotel we’re staying at. My privilege reeks through the entire place and yet I feel it’ll be a long time till I stop hating myself.

    Hating the fortunate circumstance that I was born into and what little I’ve made of it. How I have no one to blame at all. How I constantly hurt people. How much that hurts me. How much I want so badly to just destroy myself. How hard it is to want happiness. How much I feel pain, and the conflict I feel between feeling it and letting it paralyze and justify my actions. 

    Where is the middle ?

    How much am I allowed to feel without becoming a spoiled drunken brat ?How much is my fault and where does my upbringing end and start and give influence to? 

    On the one hand, I’m a beyond spoiled, on the other, I’m so broken. 

    Alcohol isn’t good for me.

  5. I just want to message people with how I feel about them

    I want to tellthe guy I went to prom with in grade 11, I think about him sometimes and I wish we were still friends.

    I want to tell my siblings I’m so sad sometimes because I dont know how to deal with our privlege and our pain.

    I want to ask the guy who appears to like me why in the world does he like me?

    I want to ask my friends why they dont hate e and how can I change 

    I want to 

  6. i hate myself so much rn


    I hate myself so much sometimes.

    I have no right to feel pain. But I do. 

    How do I justify it without taking over?

    How do I move on ?

  8. I feel like a bent twist tie

    I can be bent back into reality to be normal and productive or I can twist myself beyond recognition into something so broken.

    It’s not just the empty keith’s can on my bed, it’s the tear stains on my tye dyed pillow. I grew up in a household where twisted was given attention. And I just want to be loved and I have a hard time understanding what that means. 

    I don’t want to hurt other people. But sometimes it’s so hard to want happiness. I just want to be miserable, and disappear. I just want to dissolve. 

    Sometimes it hurts so much in my chest it feels like my ribs are collapsing. I don’t know what I want, or who I am, or what I’m good at or worth. 

    I feel particularly insecure tonight and I know it was bad idea for me to drink, but sometimes I really want to just soak up the sadness and make a wrong decision. 

    I feel like my whole life is this mediocre stretch that could easily be great or awful and I never choose which one. Sometimes I so badly want to just be awful but I know it hurts people and it always hurts myself. 

    What’s wrong with me? How do I fix the pain that won’t go away ? 

    Why does pain never go away? Why is it just accumulated and forgotten only to be brought up at some unsuspecting point ? 

  9. i went on omegle and talked to some people. 

  10. I failed waht’s new

    oh, I’m drunk. ish. and my friend said I was sad so I should go to bed but instead I’m gonna get more drunk and probably own the sadness. I’m not that hammered because I”m a light weight and also Ive been able to correct main spelling flaws in this post so far. 

    In other news. 

    I’m terrified by my paper that’s way over due. This is college. I shouldn’t fuck up.

    I really really like this stupid boy that my brother was trying to set me up with and I suck at talkin to him and I hate it. Cause I’m into him a lot. And I hate how nothing will happen cause he doesn’t like live in the same provence as me. 

    And my fucking baby guinea pigs died a couple of months ago and I’m not over it yet. 

    Maybe I’ll write drunk poetry like that guy I follow that’s super handsome. You won’t see this so I’m okay with writing that. 

  11. I’ve made many bad decisions and now I have to step up my game.

    Taking a tumblr hiatus. I’m going to head to the library to work on this daunting paper. Then I’m going to work on my other paper due thursday (I’ll start worrying about that tomorrow) and come the weekend start on my samples. I shall survive until the 16th. 

    good bye tumblr. 

  12. It made my chest feel all woozy 

  13. Eve

    I feel like most of this year can be summarized by an outstretched hand. One with fingers reaching for another hand, perhaps for comfort, or warmth or life. This year I was like that hand. I kept clawing for attention, of someone, someone to feel emotionally close to. Someone to be able to run away to.

    I found myself calling my parents often. Calling people often. I just needed to hear someone’s voice when my voice was pounding in my chest, screaming in my ears, flowing out of my tear ducts, filling up the space in my throat where I was to breathe. Choking on this repetition. This repetition. This repetition that I couldn’t understand.

    Focus on the cars she said. Focus on your feet firmly planted on the ground she said. Focus on your breathing they said. I don’t think I heard any of it except that pounding voice of mine dreading the future and simultaneously skipping forward towards it. My biggest fear realized in my head. The absence of time. The waste of time. The sheer threat of missing time.

    When the night arrived early and my classes ended late I would find myself walking. I would start out with a destination but my feet wouldn’t allow me to end up there and I’d just end up walking towards a chunk of time in which my voice wasn’t screeching in my ears. Sometimes I’d call someone to stop my feet from walking.

    Once I called my mother. Her voice was deeply concerned as I struggled to string together words between the voices clogging up my throat. The street lamps of the empty dock flooded my eyes, blurred by the panicked repetition of the voices streaming out of them. My chest heaving in and out gasping the wet air of maritime winter. My feet frozen in my lilac rainboots moving in circles trying to escape this moment in time.

    Eventually I summoned the strength, or I was let go, but the passage of time eroded into one in which I carried myself home. And since I sought to my mother in times of distress. It didn’t always do anything. Often her voice was rushed and absent, as if she wasn’t there at all. The calls were quick and my feet wandered more.

    I don’t know why I retreated to my mother. The wound she carved is not healed. I am quick to anger when matters similar resurface. Perhaps I cling to what should be the unconditional bosom to suckle on. When I am defenseless should not my mother reach for my extended hand draw me in and hold me ?

  14. I’m such a spoiled brat

    I don’t take my studies seriously enough. I spend too much. I never clean.

    Don’t let me feel like it’s okay because I grew up in a less than perfect home.

    But on the other hand, I’m not that awful. And I should be allowed to feel pain from my past. Still. Just because it’s not now doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.

    But life is and has been so easy for me.

    I’m doomed to be rich-girl-who-gets-cut-off-from-her-parents trope from sitcoms.

    I don’t know what I’m talking about. I guess I’m just thinking about exams* and an interaction from yesterday. My friend and I were reminiscing on my shitty family and her room mate was just kind of like ‘whatttt?I had no idea your family was like that !’ and started to cry.

  15. 23:28

    Notes: 3

    Tags: me