I don’t repeat patterns that hurt me and stall my growth. I’m not afraid to make tough decisions. But I also don’t run from things I care about — I wrap my identity around intensity when it feels real. Tricky. But that’s just a little something
I ate fresh eggs someone left for me on a green stretch of mountainside this morning. I’m sick — don’t know what’s wrong yet. A couple of appointments came up, and my family’s health took priority over mine for a minute. Just getting up to write this, to play music, took everything I had. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open and my body has been constantly tired.
People are screaming at me through devices I’ve muted, across channels I’ve deleted. Sorry, I don’t have it in me right now. I choose to not know about anything right now.
This is me trying to keep it light around here.
Yesterday I woke up to a rat nudging my back. Someone asked, “nudging or nuzzling?” Honest answer — if I’d given the little fucker two more seconds before I jumped out of bed, I’d have gotten a little love nibble. It didn’t happen here, or anywhere I’d call home. Who knows where home is anyway?
I have a list too long to look at and no energy for a tenth of it. By the time I walk, eat, and exercise, I’m done. There’s an appointment tomorrow, scheduled a month ago, more tests — either way, I’m not really here for it. A friend reached out and asked why I stopped writing about myself. Another told me to stop being so vulnerable. Believe it or not, both of those people exist. And believe or not, I listened to both of them.
The only reason my phone didn’t end up in the abyss is that the right voice hit my ear at the right time. That’s the music I need right now. That’s the warmth I’m craving.
My brain just dripped out of my ear reading a piece of writing I can’t tell you about yet. Calling it “writing” cheapens it.
I don’t have a lot of time, but I’m making a few minutes to compose something because it’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read, and I can’t wait to try to wrap it in sound and watch it transform. I’ve been waiting months for something to give me a reason to test my creative potential.
Exhaustion is a thing. It’s real. I’m in it. Something else is running through the veins — we’ll find it.
just need something beautiful in a voice, even if it’s only mine, even if it’s only the warmth of the friends who still leave the door open knowing the story I bring back will be weird as fuck.
If I could write across the side of this mountain, I would. It’d say: I fucking love you.
Last month my therapist asked me something I hated answering. I was told I was being selfish for even asking it. Why do I always have to be the one holding it together when I’m the one carrying the weight? Why is it too much to ask for a little kindness to find its way back to me?
It does. It did.
I’d get a God-sized Sharpie and write “I fucking love you” to everyone who noticed I wasn’t okay and helped anyway.
Mostly, I don’t like being looked after. But every once in a while, it’s fine to stop believing the other shit I start believing when I’m left to figure it ALL out alone.
I saw people I know — some from here, some from other lives — celebrating sobriety, and it got me thinking. In 2025 I knew substances were a bad call during hard times. I changed my life to not make bad decisions and change destructive patterns.
Then I realized the substances were never really the decision — they were placeholders for the decisions I was avoiding when I was left to sort it all out solo. At least that’s how it works for me.
I did find my self crazing old habits recently. I don’t like to drink unless I’m around others. I can tell you every time I’ve touched alcohol this past year and quite a few of those times aren’t attached to the best memories. Some are quite hard to think about.
I still miss cannabis. I think it does something that relieves my brain at times but it also creates other issues. I haven’t touched it but once since last June. I miss it. A lot.
Recently, everything came down like a meteor shower. Hold on. ☄️☄️ Anyway — I’d write too much if I tried to write about the storm.
I’m here to say I’m here. Still here. I don’t start over — I rebuild. I loved Legos as a kid. Never kept a set intact. Just liked building my own thing out of the pieces. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to play other people’s music either. I don’t know.
That might be all I have for a while. I’m doing all I can to stick around a little. I don’t want to disappear. I like a lot of the people here. It’s getting harder and harder to log in though.
Last night I wrote a lot before I fell asleep. I wrote about how my new life will exist in rooms that have walls. It’s happening but it’ll take a minute.
Love ya, mean it.