I’ve drank more alcohol in the last couple weeks than I have through the whole pandemic combined, which for the record is still less than two glasses a day. I hung up on my therapist for the first time in our years-and-years long arrangement. I chew my way through gummies (legal here) to get any sleep, to eat any food. My plants are dying, and … Continue reading content warning + ramble warning
I write a lot about water lately, and my therapist thinks that means something, but sometimes I just want to work with a certain kind of clay. It’s already made. I want to exhaust it, to use every piece while it’s fresh in my hands. Can you imagine how long it’ll take me to shoot every shotglass of ocean? To kiss every thimble of it? … Continue reading journal: blue chip
My consciousness yo-yos, sinks to the ground in exhaustion, then whips itself back. I don’t know enough yo-yo words to play this out. Something about making a cradle you can’t fit in. Something about making a bed and laying in it. Something about consequences. I feel a bit like a failure because I had to book an emergency therapy appointment for tomorrow. It’s right after … Continue reading a great fall
rarasaur 