I made a Tinder profile today - mixed feelings galore.
It feels like a big step tho
I made a Tinder profile today - mixed feelings galore.
It feels like a big step tho
It’s a problem if I’m not even mad
It’s a problem if I shrugged that ish off like it never happened
You use the word love often but you can’t seem to grasp the concept
So many excuses when are you going to forfeit?
Aren’t you tired of lying
You give me every reason to walk away
I wish it were raining to match how I feel
Not in the mood for sun today
Take your talking and keep on walking
No gestures no effort being made here
You really don’t see me for who I am
So go away
You’ve made that clear
“Monstrous Beauty” Pen art by me, one of my quickest pieces.
so… that miraculous ladybug season finale huh
Desde que você me beijou no banco da praça, eu sento, é amor.
Ai meu Deus, que desgraça.
Quatro anos se passaram, desde aquele dia então, pra ouvir você dizer, que talvez não seja não.
☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ
13 de Setembro de 2020
Se fosse pra escrever uma carta, pra todos que já amei, acho que seria mais ou menos assim:
Duas seriam de desculpas, e eu até já sei pra quem.
Uma por ter gostado menos. João até que era legal.
Com seu estilo, cabelo…e visão sobre o mundo.
Mas cheguei a conclusão que o que eu sentia não era o mesmo, então com isso disse adeus ao menino do cabelo.
Uma é pro menino da faculdade.
Ei, menino, me desculpa.
Eu não quis te assustar (na época eu nem sabia que estava na real), hoje eu sei que foi errado, eu morro só de pensar. Ai meu Deus, que vexame, desculpa novamente. Por ter criado toda essa fantasia na minha mente.
É meio absurda a ideia de gostar de alguém que nem se conhece direito, né? Mas é isso, tchau ex-crush.
Ainda tenho outras cartas.
Pro meu primeiro namorado:
Desejo que seja feliz.
Um menino bem focado e ótimo aprendiz.
Hoje tá em outro estado, com noiva e tudo mais.
Desculpa por ter terminado, mas você sabe, não dava mais.
Obrigada por ter sido meu primeiro namorado.
A carta agora que segue não é nem pro cara, é pra mim. Cê é linda e especial do seu jeito e não precisa de um boy tão lixo assim. Não se deve mudar por ninguém. Grande bosta ele dizer que te ama, ele é tão profundo quanto um pires e não gosta de ninguém, só dele mesmo. Mais amor próprio na próxima! Você não precisa disso, meu bem.
Lembra: Homem nenhum manda em você.
A sua carta é a mais difícil, mas eu tenho que tentar.
Por mais que tenha partido de mim, nem eu quis que fosse assim. É sério.
Terminei na esperança de um dia tudo melhorar.
Mas você, no final das contas, resolveu nem tentar…
Sei da culpa que carrego, e preciso aprender.
Não se idealiza como o outro deve ser. Nem expectativas.
Eu te pedi demais e te sobrecarreguei. Deve ter sido horrível.
Eu nunca vou me perdoar por ter feito isso com você. Por te maltratar.
Foi difícil. Ainda é. No fundo, eu sei que, mesmo com todos os defeitos, queria que fosse você. Ainda quero.
Mas não posso me enganar, por mais que eu te ame, do jeito que tava…
A gente só ia se machucar, mais e mais.
Eu sempre vou te amar.
Obrigada por tudo, e desculpa.
*stares at absolutely massive pile of laundry*
…How do I do laundry again?
*Blinks at packed closet. Still-full drawers. Bin of clean clothes still waiting to be put away from 2-3 wks ago.*
I have way too many clothes.
…*keeps hoarding artsy delightful clothing anyway*
Man, when I moved back to the ‘States after just 6 months living & teaching in Budapest, I had to buy what sure seemed like a massive old army duffle bag to haul everything home. I had to repeatedly wrangle it to balance on top of my suitcase to cart it around the airports, it was so heavy. Of course the shoulder strap broke at the Budapest airport. Of course the bag was over the weight limit, so I had to redistribute even more into my stuffed suitcase and pray furiously that I could make it work.
…I had had my parents mail me a big box of my clothes that I didn’t have room for in my initial suitcase-move to Hungary, b-but…
BUDAPEST HAD AMAZING THRIFT SHOPS!
THAT I STILL MISS TO THIS DAY! THEY STILL FEATURE IN MY DREAMS* OVER HALF A DECADE LATER!
I’D EVEN FIND AUTHENTIC FOLK COSTUME PIECES AT THEM 😭!
*(Sadly always as stress dreams of being lost in Budapest, trying to find my way back to them and/or rendezvous with people there who are COUNTING in me.)
today, i will post on social media about graduating with my master of science degree from oxford. i am glad i possessed the foresight to write a graduation message over a month ago and before the fires. god knows i would struggle to come up with commemorative language now.
i celebrated once when i submitted my dissertation two weeks ago; i celebrated a second time when i completed my final presentation last week. but now that i am officially done, i have no idea how i feel, other than unsettled. i am at a loss as to how to celebrate in a way that does not feel false or dystopian. i keep grasping at these acts of ceremony because i am chasing an elusive feeling of conclusion. it still does not feel over because my material conditions have not changed much. i ordered takeout from a beloved local restaurant, made scallion pancake for my family, binged my favorite tv show. i took photos in my kitchen with a beautiful flower bouquet that my college roommates sent. i am waiting for more sunlight to take photos outside, but the flowers will probably wilt before we will see the sun again. i cannot think of anything else while the california sky is full of ash.
none of these beloved activities brought the joy that i thought would come when the degree was finished. i thought i would feel a sense of accomplishment, some sort of meaningful ending. instead, i jump a little when i am congratulated, because the phrase invokes an air of honor that is so different from how i am feeling about this degree. utterly isolated inside my parents’ house for the fourth week since the wildfires started in northern california, i feel only a grim sense of resignation - about the compromised education i accepted with gritted teeth, the state of the world, the uncertainty of the future.
i spent the last six months of quarantine pushing code for trauma and chronic pain research. as my life’s plans crumbled with each new headline, i clung to the routine of my research. i called it purpose, but now, i know that mentality was coping mechanism borne out of chaos. of course, i knew all along that my work was small in the face of our great, urgent problems - climate change, racist violence, pandemic, fascism, economic devastation. now that the research is mostly over, i am lost.
earlier this week, i compiled a list of job ads, for positions i would not mind - all remote because of my asthma. i attended a webinar for a graduate fellowship - they discussed how the american dream was about overcoming challenges and it made me feel a little ill. i read about some phd programs and even emailed an old classmate with some questions. but in the face of the great uncertainty of this upcoming year, i am unsure if i have the heart to go through with any of this. what is the point if all i can do is stay in this big house with thin walls, as i have done since march 2020? is the career development happening now not a farce? was any of that work worth it? if not, what does it matter now? i have been trying to quiet my anxieties about a long job search, lacking the financial resources to move out long-term, the ash outside corralling us into an ever-smaller ring. as i drift farther away from the structure of a degree program - suffering from asthma against a virus that destroys the respiratory system, as the california wildfires stretch into their fourth week, unemployed in a pandemic economy - i have no idea where to look next. the anxieties i have been trying to push down since march are laid bare.
i know that i am surrounded by family and friends who love me unconditionally, who will support me in whatever i choose to do next. i know that physically, i will be fine inside the big house with thin walls, for however long i need to stay. for now, i am retreating into my own world. it would do some good for me to look inward and reflect on who i am without movement or direction, because i probably will not have these things for awhile longer. i hope that i will be able to find enough peace to reengage with the world in a few weeks’ time.
tonight, i will make mint mojitos for my family in a last-ditch effort for ceremony. it is time for this chapter to end.
september 11, 2020
so I’m moving back to nyc I guess
Caryl fans rejoice! We’re getting a spinoff series :D
butterfly girl // hell mistress
𝘛𝘶𝘥𝘰𝘮, 𝘩𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘦́𝘳𝘻𝘦𝘬 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘵
𝘋𝘦 𝘢𝘻𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘨𝘺 𝘢 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘰̈𝘯𝘵𝘦́𝘴
𝘜́𝘨𝘺𝘩𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘨𝘺𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘵𝘰̈𝘣𝘣 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘺𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘣𝘣ő𝘭
my hair has gotten so long I can put it into a tiny ponytail again
I try to read but I’m not taking in anything
The words run together as I romanticize something I shouldn’t
You holding my face and looking at me in that enticing way
I feel myself threatening to fall deeper into your eyes but I hold back everytime
I thought way too much
I lived too much
in my heavy mind
Honestly, It’s really
hard to make decisions
Talk with people
Express your feelings
Do your duties
Most importantly tell
your close ones
how you actually
A police officer should never shoot an unarmed person.
Jacob Blake is one of countless victims of the police.
Black Lives DO matter.
And so do rape victims.
Jacob Blake did not deserve to die for breaking up an argument.
Him, and every other rapist, should never know a moment’s peace. Normally I stick up for people who have been brutalized by police, but in good conscience I cannot vouch for a rapist. Again, he did not deserve to die the way he did. THE POLICE SHOULD BE HELD RESPONSIBLE.
I am not a conspiracy theorist. His criminal record is public information. The full story is always important.
Rough fast work