i would like a hug. my final crit was weird but at my meeting w my professor he said a lot of really wonderful things about me & my work which felt really good. he also said that i need to be careful about how i work so passionately and channel my intense emotional shit into my work because it could devastate me. and that removing myself a step and focusing on processes and technicalities in printmaking will be good for me. so that’s good. i have work in an hour. then i have to finish my time final. then i have to figure out how to install it. i don’t know what i’m doing, guys. i’m gonna have two jobs next year. i don’t know how i’m going to move out of my dorm alone, or where i’m going to live for the two weeks that i still have a job but i don’t have anywhere permanent to go. i mean, i’ll be ok. i will. i just am kind of scared right now. i feel very alone. there’s a lot of little things that are adding up onto the small of my back and crushing me. they are squeezing my throat. it is hard to think about. i am very scared. i would like a hug.
i wanna sleep in that bed but right now i will sleep in mine. goodnight i love all of you and all of everything. do you ever think about grass? just little green shoots peeping up and saying hi. soft and sweet. i love grass ,
i am the crepe queen. i have a ton to do but i go to work in two hours so it feels not worth it to try to start anything. i wanna, idk, whatever, i am vaguely overwhelmed but i got literally 12 hours of sleep last night that was crazy
april and may and june and july happen. i was dirty, you said, and you had to get me clean. i think i enchanted you. i can be pretty enchanting if i try. you and i walked through the puddles and we felt water running over our toes in the new grass and you said “let’s dance in red wine and sad songs” meaning a room made out of those things and i thought of all the glittered curtains that brought me out from home and it brought me to you. the sun beat down on our backs in april, may, june, july, august, september.
cover me in flowers and lay me down in the soft grass to sleep forever n ever. except i gotta go grocery shopping first. ok
talkin bout that subjugation of color as a drawing tool which is emblematic of the use of control over women & the poor & especially poor women in 19th century france aww yeah
i have been trying so, so, so hard lately and since i’ve been trying i have been dwelling less and since i’ve been dwelling less i’ve been writing less. but that’s okay, probably. i still scribble words on the train or underneath trees as often as i can. embellish them with gold to make them important.
i like laying in the sun and feeling everything become yellowed around me. i think a little bit that i grew up really fast, because sometimes i am transported back into other sweet green afternoons with different worries. but being a kid is hard and being a young teenage girl is hard and people are very, very cruel, even in the sunshine.
it’s not so much nostalgia as it is a homesickness. i made my homes in moments and people instead of places, but i can remember slides that were huge when we would walk to the grocery store or the laundromat but they became tiny when i visited again. my mother and i lived in an apartment that was too nice for us (and when they gentrified that city we were evicted and teachers shouldn’t be living in their friends’ basements and capitol hill is beautiful in my memory but it is also bitter) but it had a fountain at the entrance and what i knew for certain was a magical garden. there were definitely fairies in that garden. urban fairies, maybe, but they were real. i would race my mom around the fountain and shout which direction i was going in. i always shouted “LEFT!” even though i would sometimes go right. i knew i liked left better, because i was left-handed. i just didn’t know what that meant at the age of five.
i still like the left better, because i am left-handed, and i still don’t really know what it means. i can just tell the difference now.
i like climbing trees. i like feeling like a cloud. one time i climbed a tree in my backyard when i was in the summer before sophomore year and i don’t know why i did it other than that i wanted to see. i climbed and i was taller than my roof. i was taller than i ever had been. another time, a year prior, i walked up to a hill that would soon become very familiar. i was the lowest i’d ever been. i’ve been lower since, but i had less control at age fourteen. i looked up at the sky and saw puzzle pieces and i felt the chalk in my hands where the pills had been and i heard voices in my ears and i was able to finally drown it out and i saw a future grey and shimmering instead of red lines like spelling errors on screens
groups of people get me scared and sitting in corners, even when there are christmas lights and cheap liquor to soften it all. i think maybe that makes it worse because in that glow everyone is so pretty. it’s so easy to like people when you’re drunk off of lemonade and whiskey, and i just don’t feel like i have the time to like people only when i am drunk. i am not pretty under christmas lights, they do not soften my edges. groups of people get me scared and sad and sleepy at midnight. i think the sleepiness is a coping mechanism. i never used to be this way.
i have been holding faces in my hands and trying to contain everyone’s glory but it’s too hard, i think. your skin is soft and i could tear into you and nest in your ribs but i have mine and myself to attend to. lighters, bottle caps, almond milk, twisted rings, blue blankets, dying flower crowns, wordy essays read aloud, minerals see-through, scraps of paper, scraps of pavement, hands: reaching, reaching, reaching.
it’s too easy to try to win. i’ve been reading old letters and writing new ones (on contact sheets, receipts). i reread your letter today when i was cocooned in blankets and also yesterday when i was buried underneath a wine-drunk sadness and so many of the days before it. of course i want it to be true.
everything is so bright i can’t see anything but the glare and i am catching glimpses: wild rice and chick peas. i am trying to see the outlines and silhouettes of catching buses to the ocean and sand between intertwined fingers. i can smell the seaweed but i mgiht be ther e soon
climbing trees rules i wanna stay up there forever and make a home in the branches. tiny twigs. fall to the ground and land softly, like a little cloud. i dunno. i have every feeling
i’m feeling v enthusiastic and full of like bubbling joy or whatever and i’d be down to share it w someone and right now i’m just layin in bed listening to kimya but i wanna run aroundDDdD