Welcome to my journal! I am so glad I managed to get it to work as I had envisionned. The months on the left page are clickable and will lead you to the first entry for that month. Thank you for visiting my blog!
I feel weird lately. There’s a quote in Arrival that goes "but now I’m not so sure I believe in beginnings and endings. There are days that define your story beyond your life".
Not quite as beautiful as the story on my side of things, something in between searching for truth at the source and self-cannibalising for the cameras.
Mistakenly thinking older is truer, but older is also all there is. Older me that is.
Maybe it’s just being back at my parents’.
I think the feeling is the pull between grief and the need for something new. Both rearranging familiar pieces into more satisfying shapes, though admittedly less honest.
Does that make sense? Jumping from one point of the time circle onto another to brush away the dirt. Proper renovation or landlord special, no matter. Reconciliation is the goal either way.
I wrote a very long and embarrassing paragraph adding onto yesterday’s thoughts and then deleted it, but the bottom line is, manage your involvements. Or I guess, manage my involvements, the you thing is never good. And ultimately picking and choosing is earned if you carved out all the options yourself.
I still engage in too much doormatting and wallflowering at the kitchen table. Being around your parents will do that to you I guess. Or actually it shouldn’t, but there’s a switch in my brain when I walk through that door. A feeling that I should know I can’t secure every alliance — that often, every is also none.
My mom says the body remembers pathways of pain.
Migraines hurt my canines, and frustration the space stretched in between them and my brow bone.
I want to clean out my room. Probably won’t.
My birthday is soon, and has brought up past angers (what birthdays do I suppose). Words I wrote about it some months ago:
"The ache is in my jaw and elbows. There are words to be written about the bending and extending of things in relation to pain, the vulnerability of articulations, but I am not finding them.
Ariadne’s backward thread leads you to my room, strung from the neck of my guitar, our guitar? Yours now again I think.
What compromises have to be made to be close to you are indigestible to me — I hear my heart in my ears, a blood dead-end."
(I asked again today and he could not give me a definite answer. Mine is, however. (Theft of course). Vague words call for debatable interpretations.)
Manage your involvements, huh. The one tried and true outcome of putting faith in men, but I am often stupid, still.
I thought I’d be sad considering the length of that involvement but mostly I am just disappointed, disarrayed, and whatever third dis- word means tiredness with expected behaviors.
(emboweled?)
At how easily one can forget where they first stood.
Smiling in the lights with your face of ungratefulness, to whichever younger heart will be naive and taken enough to readily overfeed you (too).
Moth to a flame, deer huddling wide-eyed into the headlights. Man’s soil-operated machine a familiar enough reprieve from the dullness of the unbending night road.
Eh. I suck at words right now — short story, licking a wound and enjoying the taste.
(Cryptic-writing, don’t mind me)
A patron saint of transitional states and duplicities — spaces between spaces.
The grout of the sky in the frame of my window, font websites, the sides of my fingernails.
The cement-able gap of a trachea, door sills and "sort of just being there".
Intermediary places, an unseen dermis of passageways and crowd-fillers.
The symbolic, misplaced, Christ wound on my left ankle.
Stay what you are and "two out of three isn’t bad", interchangeably.
(I mean, get it together for fuck’s sake.)
Not much to say lately. Had a dream with an evil horse in it that made soldiers murder my friends. Might be because I had bought it off of Vinted. A friend thinks it might be because I am being haunted by one of the rosaries I thrifted some time ago (and didn’t wash). I did buy one two years ago off of a guy who said it used to be his grandma’s, it felt a bit fucked up at the time.
Incidentally, that same friend has gifted me a rosary before and said she had washed it before giving it to me, so that’s something.
I think if I’m being haunted by anything it’s that one contemporary art book I also thrifted, and that has no doubt been the catalyst for many a student’s anguish (mine included, I hate Duchamp).
I also keep dreaming of a friend I knew for most of my life until high school, who is dead now. The rosary friend says it’s their way of letting me know they’re alright. Mostly, it just has my brain forgetting they’re dead which sucks. Went to check the burial record twice, still dead.
Also, it was my birthday recently. Their birthday would have been in a couple days from now. I hope their mom is okay.
Traveled all the way to Paris to see some friends, I’m 200 bucks short. The eight hours of train weren’t nearly as bad as I expected, I watched X files.
Some old guy did follow me from the first station to the next one two hours and a half away and was going on and on about how he just loooves tall women. He looked 65, I am very obviously in my early 20s. He eventually moved on to telling me to vote for the biggest asshole in town in the next elections. Didn’t think it was that bad an encounter but a girl did stop to ask if I was okay so maybe it was that bad. Anyways.
Very happy to see my friends. Today we did nothing at all and just hung out, which is always my favorite. Still, some guilt that I’m not the kind of person to go places and do things to make moments memorable, but it’s good to see them.
I know I always get like this after a few days.
Hang out and go home is easy, living in the same space for multiple days is trickier to navigate.
Oscillating between ‘friends are great I am so full of love’ and ‘oh my god I don’t belong here I want to die’.
I feel out of place. Happy to be here but in an impostor sort of way. The proverbial elephant in the room, the room is 12 square meters in a Parisian apartment.
Getting flashes of "I don’t fit anywhere ever why do I fool myself into thinking I ever can". Of "my favorite part of any day is closing my bedroom door at night so I can be ugly in peace". As a person, physically, existentially, doesn’t matter.
This is with the least judgemental people I know too, I do this to myself.
There is a well of self-hatred that I forget when I am out of everyone’s sight but that chokes me blue when I step out any door.
Paris (the city, not the hangout) is hell, humans aren’t meant to live like this. Watching people on the subway in horror, I don’t know how they do it. Forever attached to my "if I walk in any direction for two minutes I’ll end up in a field".
My up and walking pain is worse than it was. It’s my back, my hips, my knees. Hips are especially bad. I felt like a total drama queen for all the wincing but I was 2 seconds away from bashing my own head in the whole time.
Strange day but my friends are great.
Still in Paris, saw Florence and the Machine with my best friend. It was great, I love women. Actually I think women are the only thing making this all worthwhile.
Got crushed between subway gates on the way back and made the stupidest sound, my friend and I nearly died of laughter for a while after thinking back about it.
We finished supernatural season 9 when we got back to the apartment. I leave Paris tomorrow (well, today seeing as it’s 2 in the morning), very grateful for the time spent with my friends.
No creepy guys on the trains back thankfully but there was a feral kid on my second train, her mom was feeding her ham straight from the package. Got my digicam, very happy with it. I’m going to sleep for like, 15 hours.
Took my sister to Toulouse. I’m another 100 bucks short, I’ll never recover financially. That’s okay, I think she had a great time. We went to this Korean restaurant I’ve been to maybe 5 times before, they have the best chicken I’ll probably ever eat. Treated her to bubble tea as well. We ended up in this tiny record shop that was really great. I bought her a CD and we got t-shirts (me, Alice in chains and the cure, her David Bowie). Being 15 is its own kind of hell, I’m glad I could give her an escape even for just a day. Had fun too.
Started taking pictures of some items and things around my room for the blog I’m going to make on neocities. My vision is, you’re going through my stuff in my room. In a "these are the things I am made of" way. Anyone who knows me would recognise me from the assortment of items alone, though no one who knows me will ever set eyes on the blog, hopefully.
The journal page is the main thing I want to do so I can write away at the (semi) void, but I also want a page for the music I like, quotes I’ve collected over the years, and maybe some photos too.
I know nothing about html or css, much less javascript, but the prospect of making something fun and new is enough of an incentive, I’ll figure it out. (coding seems to be a male-dominated field, it can’t be that hard).
I’ve been enjoying the image making aspect of it so far. Spent a good few hours on procreate turning everything into PNGs. Loved making all the little newspaper letters too.
I have always said that my only one and true talent is taste. Well, not ‘always said’ but often enough. You know what I mean.
Pick the good people out of a crowd and keep them around the same way I make lists and collections and whatnot. Hammer myself into shape around them, always less of a person than a mirror. So I can pretend I am the kind of person their kind of person wants around. Agreeable to a fault, it’s disgusting.
Not living life so much as curating my way through it. "I see you as you see yourself through all the books you read". It’s everything, the records I own, the books on my shelves, the image in my phone case. It’d all make a cool person if it was real.
I think maybe it is real in a potential sense, the records and books and the image, but I lose interest when there is no one around to have conversations about those things with. I’m not naive enough to not see when I’m boring someone. Still, I’ve watched your shows, listened to your songs, clicked all the links you sent and whatnot.
You’d learn I’m easygoing enough when I can keep the conversation afloat.
Retconning what I said about taste. My only one and true talent is convincing myself I have great taste.
("In a room where I once told you everything I am alone")
I had never considered the function of funerals past the very practical "we need to agree on a day to put the body in the ground" aspect. I forget we are just animals. The ceremonies are endless because a whole person is gone from the world and that is a hard thing for an animal brain to compute, let alone accept.
I wish I had attended your funeral. No one told me, we had been out of touch, I moved away, you don’t speak. The whole situation sucks. I got this horrible hunch a while after new years’ and looked it up, and there you were, 20 among the 70s, 80s and 90s. No wonder my brain forgets still. This is not the kind of thing you’re supposed to learn off of Google on some cold screen. The website got your birthday wrong. The running joke was that we were the same age for 6 days a year. Now it looks like for two days you were two years older. I guess it hardly matters now that I am a whole two years older myself, — and counting. I don’t know, I feel like shit. I feel like Sonic Youth’s JC, like if I don’t get this out somehow it’ll keep eating away at me. I’d go to your grave but I’m scared I’ll run into your mom. I haven’t told mine, or anyone really. You were in a dream I had where FOB was playing a show, I think you would have liked it.
The blog is coming along nicely I think. Html and css are very accessible, I’m not struggling as much as I thought. I’m sure I’ve committed just about a million coding sins already, but oh well, the website works, that’s really all I ask. I even managed some javascript as well, though I ended up not needing it in the end. I’ll get to use it if I keep writing here until 2027. Stay tuned I guess?
The homepage is done, each animated element will hopefully be a link to a different page eventually. I’ve just completed the journal page today, it came out cute I think. I hope you guys aren’t freaked out by the ant, I found that card in a pencil case from middle school with the random Luigi sticker on it, thought it was fun. The glow in the dark stars are a fitting "things I am made of" addition, I’ve been finding them everywhere in my pockets since my last move.
Next I’ll be working on an about/profile page, mostly so I can state my age (22) and link the few images I used that aren’t my own.
Last (hang)nail in the coffin.
I stalk the accounts you forgot about so I can get your voice in my head and think like you for a few minutes after I close the browser."In this shirt, I can be you to be near you for a while"
I hated the sound your nails made when they’d break, you made the whole table shake.
In my mind I see you pulling my hair in third person.
"We are all all we’ve done", I miss your old skyblog.
When you accepted my apology we were both good people for the length of that conversation. Do you like saves the day?
I secretly loved every minute of that scary tunnel we walked under, and your scary attic room too. Your house was the only one out of all my friends’ I could fall asleep at.
I never told you but I totally copied your handwriting back then, and the way you put up posters on your walls too (though they creeped that one guy out and he never came over again). You always were way cooler than me.
Beam(ing) through the floor — to your bed.
I lie still to let you sleep longer, eyes stayed on the sill, and I stretch the moment to let it linger.
To let it slither under, staple us together.
It would suck if there were no April entries so here it is. I fucked up the side of my fingernail, I’m not sure it’ll ever grow the same again. I had a dream where the house had a secret room with all my childhood things in it, I tried to hide it all when I found it.
There’s a pit in my stomach, I need to get out of here, it would be easier not to. I’m scared all the time and I feel nothing at all. Fun feels so stupid when something serious happens, something serious happens all the time. I want a white box to scream into. I’ve spent half my life in the same corner of the same room, away and here too.
I choose to believe 2006 means the song is for me. Some things are mine because they gestated when I did, came to the world when I did.
Split another nail, right thumb. It’s always been my bad nail. Scratched the side raw too. In the sort of mood where everything is too much all the time and I hate everyone for being so loud and so there all the time. I wish it was socially acceptable to sleep 18 hours a day. I’m tired of being responsible for everyone’s moods.
I want to be quiet and for it to be no one’s business but mine. Why is it always such an event? Move on with your day and let me be.
I’m going through a rather long admission process for an apprenticeship. Real fancy thing. I can’t promise I’ll do much to this blog once it is over but I’ll try. It’s on my mind which is a good start.
I feel like I’m signing up for my downfall and salvation both. I don’t know what I want. This is what I least don’t want so that’s what I’m going with. I feel a bit empty, very nervous. I have nightmare after nightmare, I’ve gone to bed at 2am, woken up at 3am, 7am and 9:30am every night for the past ten days. I’ve fallen back into stupid habits, I’m mad at myself but not enough to do anything about it, so I just lie there and occupy space.
Wish me luck for next Wednesday, that’s when I go take the entrance exams.
Well. I don't know how that went. There was a still life drawing exercise that went really well, a general knowledge quiz that went okay-ish, a color test thing that went alright. It's the presentation in front of the jury part I'm not too confident about. I definitely panicked and fucked up a bit lol.
The setup was really unpleasant, I think that's what threw me off. I was expecting to be standing in front of maybe three people, but instead I was sitting at a table with one member of the local jury on either side of me, and I had to talk to another three members of the jury from Paris via zoom. They didn't have their cameras on so I was just talking to a bunch of letters on a screen, while the other two were practically breathing down my neck.
The parisian people were so stuck up and mean it pissed me off. Always a bunch of elitist fucks in these kinds of things.
Well anyways.
They have 4 places, we were 6 to apply so I guess my chances are not too bad. Still, I keep having flashbacks of some of the shit I said and cringing so bad lol.
They said we'll know if we were admitted in two weeks' time tops, so in the meantime I'm going to try and hammer it into my head that it's out of my control now and try not to wallow in my own anxiety too much.
I got the apprenticeship. I've known for a week. I'm happy, I think? It's something to do, pretty secure route to a stable job that doesn't involve excel or phone calls. I think generally I dread the effort that goes into living/maintaining the appearence of being a person. I wonder who else was accepted. I did have my favorites out of the people I met at the entrance exams but I unfortunately think they were also the least likely of being accepted (on account of being younger/not as well prepared from lack of exeperience). I have free time now, I'm not sure what to do.