Mon cœur qui bat

My heart detonates on the page
A thousand red paper pieces explode
Spewing in every direction
I collect them preciously, meticulously
Until I finally stow them away
In their hiding place
They are too raw, too blatantly red
Like a cache of roses blooming behind a locked gate
Unbothered, I begin again
Bleeding letters onto a once white sheet
Perhaps they will arrange themselves in your language
Something subtle so some slumbering heart
Awakes and finally understands
And careful fingers can help me pick up the pieces
When the page fills up again

I think I’m a little broken

I am 26 now.
I know how to do taxes, and work out loans and be an adult most of the time.
But I haven’t dated in 7 years, and I’m terrified to try. I don’t remember what to do, and I know I will constantly backpedal my own boundaries just to make someone happy.

I want to be happy but I feel like I’m just treading water in a pool where everyone else can stand. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life.

And I’m probably never going to find someone who’d date me here.

I still live with my parents, because if I live on my own I will spiral into a pit of despair. Which is so dumb? Like I can’t want to live enough on my own? And it’s so stupid I can’t trust myself.
I feel useless. And I know in my head that people love me, but in my heart I don’t feel it.

And I don’t know if that’s because of the trauma or that fun little chemistry fuck up in my brain. And I don’t feel happy. Just normal or like I’m going to go off the deep end. The meds made me feel like I wasn’t even human, like I wasn’t anything.

I don’t know what to do about any of it, I did therapy, for like a year and every time it just made me feel like fragile spun glass, like the thin end of a Prince Rupert’s drop. My therapist was great and super qualified, but it was like I was scrubbing at skin til I bled, with no relief. No skin patching itself back together.

I am so tired, so tightly wound that it feels like everything holding me together could snap if I make the wrong move.

And I’m probably pretty fucking obnoxious, I ask questions like it’s an interrogation, about random shit like if you were a cat what kind would you be, or what superpower would you want to have.

I think I missed some sort of social protocol, and I’m not well adjusted. Which is insane, because I have two parents who love me and each other. Two siblings who love me, and friends all around. And somehow I’m still lonely.

And I don’t want to get into a relationship with anyone because I’m lonely. I want to do it because I like the person.

But I want to build a home and a life outside of my cat. (She’s lovely but if she keeps going outside she might get eaten by a bear.)
I just want
1) to be happy
2) something to look forward to that doesn’t feel like the other show is going to drop
3) a girlfriend(?)

And at the same time I don’t want anything at all.

Anyhow, if you read this, thanks. I hope your day/night is going well.

Your not so locally sourced lesbian/ace disaster

July 2

It’s been a little over a week since my mom borrowed my daughter for the next month for an array of adventures that I’m just not in a space to join them on. I am however trying my best to make the best use of the next month without her by prepping and starting a grip of 24 canvases that I’m hopeful will be well received by supporters of my craft.

We just finished watching one of my favorite movies, The Menu again and I’m on my way to finish folding the never ending laundry . My neighbor also leant me a book she recently finished and has warned me it’s considerable fucked up but is a fantastic read called Verity by Coleen Hoover. I need to make sure to balance it in with my other need to dos like my language lessons and other such enrichment.
I miss my tiny human tremendously but am happy to get her video updates assuring me she’s having a wonderful time and in good care as she embarks on her first of three camping trips this summer.
Tonight my husband and I will probably be getting down with the latest episode of Riteous Gemstones and I’ll be needing to fix a little wrench he had me tattoo on his finger two weeks ago where a few lines faded. I may be relatively homebound as a person but there’s never a shortage of things to do.

On the 11th I’ll be turning 34, 34 and still not bored. I’ve been tossing up how to spend it, either at my favorite restaurant or taking a chance at one of the other many appealing places I have on my list of want to tries.

I hope your month is off to a good start.


I’ll send out a message or be talking to my husband,friends, or family and the timing is exquisite . I’ll receive curious responses on how they were just discussing that subject when I chimed in from however many miles away, and the joke that I’ve shared takes becomes enhanced by the synchronicity of the interactions timing.

Sometimes it happens with the violent or sad things too, and those instances leave a different sort of impression that sticks with me.

They are a wonderment in time and space and I find myself fascinating by the peculiarity of these particular exchanges. Spooky action at a distance.


Sometimes, I feel guilty for being depressed. The way I seem to rot in bed for countless seconds. It’s hard to talk to people when I spent my entire life questioning; Questioning how people could treat a little kid so badly, where I should belong, and why don’t I understand myself. I’ve never had a proper identity. I get how these days now there’s a lot of gender questioning, and it seems like I’m one of those people. I just want to get to know myself. To my partner, I’m sorry I’m not a perfect partner —and I mean this in a sincere way. These aren’t excuses for why I stay depressed. More than anything in this life I want to pursue my hobbies and enjoy life, but that’s difficult to do with that little voice in my head. I’m as strong as I can be right now. I’ll be slightly stronger tomorrow.