upon reaching the age of charlotte lucas
alternatively: twenty seven thoughts from the last 365 days
alternatively: things i worked hard to think and fight hard to remember
sometimes all the plant needs is a different window
my birth card is the hanged man. sometimes this brings me comfort, and sometimes i resent it.
to dive into the ocean is to go home
seeing MUNA twice in a row, the latter entirely by myself, was the single greatest and most selfish gift i have given myself all year
my best friend is my saving grace and i do not know if i will ever be able to communicate just how precious they are to me
i am so afraid of loneliness that i forgot how to spell it
even a decade after leaving and 6 years after cutting contact, certain phone numbers will always hurt
i crave the time to write my book
i will do anything for my kids
i will do anything in the world for my kids
i will do anything in the universe for my kids
i am very grateful for a therapist who does not complain that i cannot ever look her in the eye
as it turns out, accommodation needs are not something you can ignore
the smell of dying roses reminds me of old bookstores at 9pm. specifically, the borders on the plaza of downtown kansas city.
mary oliver never does say exactly how you’re supposed to stop crawling through the desert and start flying home.
“meanwhile, the world goes on” is an absolutely brutal line. which is why she wrote it, i suppose.
there is so much grief living in my left calf muscle and also my lower spine, for the years of my performance career that covid has stolen from me
i am finally of the age to be able to quote charlotte lucas from pride and prejudice: “i’m 27 years old. i’ve no money and no prospects. i am already a burden on my parents.”
“go to sleep and try again tomorrow” only seems to count as a last resort strategy the first dozen times or so. after that it’s just… how things are.
if my rice cooker ever dies i will go into a formal mourning period and will not speak to anyone for 30 days
i know that i do not have to judge what i have had to do for survival, but some things are very hard to love no matter how many mindfulness practices you embrace.
just because someone knows the language of accountability, doesn’t mean they know how to practice it
when in doubt, make soup. if you don’t have the ingredients, make rice.
i am not very bold, but i have learned how to be brave.
most days, i yearn for a life where “resilient” is not one of my main descriptors
on the leftover days, “resilient” is the only thing i have left, desperately clutched in between bleeding fingers
everything i’ve written down here is the same thing in a different combination of letters - that is, in order to survive i must make art out of what is largely regarded to have no potential for beauty