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I feel like I am talking to walls. -
barista training, two complementary coffees
thoughts bout how clothes make me feel valid, how attempting jobs fuck with your self esteem. Pride in work is essential, it helps the spirit thrive, but it gets twisted in capitalism paradigms. They use "pride in your work!" to "shame" people into working, as if they don't want to work as some subversion of pride or something (wording this wrong i ( Read more... ) -
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In my new studio, Unknown Mortal Orchestra will be the background soundtrack. They will be the essence of my workplace ( Read more... ) -
Fear.
I have a lot of fears about things. I fear if I ask my mother to go get something with my son, they will end up in a car crash, and it will be my fault because I asked her to leave the house for me. I fear my outdoor cat dying. I invited someone over tonight, and I was just thinking, what if my cat died because I invited him over? I'm fairly ( Read more... ) -
D. Running out of space.
My hands are dirtied. My world crumbling into a black hole. The things I loved have gone before me, slowly being sucked by that dark material into places I cannot see nor squeeze into with any type of consciousness. The ones I have loved, gone, whether to that dark magnet, or to safer lands. Any encroachment upon their light a clear sign of trouble ( Read more... ) -
Maybe this was me.
Breezy winds blew rarely around town. When blusters came, she'd trek to the forest in her oversized green coat made of military threads, where she'd walk and randomly stop and stand, staring up at the branches that whistled with the wind. Even though this was a place full of security and life that thrustled underneath the brown pine needles, it was ( Read more... ) -
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I want to take the pills but I'm scared. I know if I take them, that will be it, that will be the end. I take them and I will fall into an unretractable coma. My boyfriend will be mad at me for taking his pills, and mad at me for ending my life. Part of me is desperately wishing he'd come back and say he's sorry and he was worried about me and that ( Read more... ) -
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April 18, friday 2008
In meadows of sun, birds fly, the sun bleeding warmth and fire into their black feathers. Birds with homes of no knowledge of us, simple trees in converse with nature that hold secrets and tales that will never be revealed to human ears. A sun that burns our skin with heat that travels across the cold space incapable of ( Read more... ) -
Remember.
As she lied in bed, quietly writing out the crappiest story of her life, she wondered, "How did this happen?" How had she fallen ( Read more... )