Sometimes when I am asleep, and the wind is coming in through the window of my childhood bedroom, I can almost feel you here. For a sleepover, the way we used to do all the time. It was just our clothes then, I didn’t know what was mine or yours. It was our day then, we never left each other’s sides. It was our life then, a pact that if we made it to 40 and were still single, we’d run away together and live on the beach in Mexico. I always wake up in a sweat from those dreams now. Now I live in your phone as an unknown cell number, I live in your photos as a girl you used to know. I live in that stain I left on the carpet of your truck when my bubblegum ice cream melted. Now I’m the most hated girl. For twenty-five years in a row. If you’ve never been the last choice friend, undiagnosed depression at a very young age, artsy but filled with melancholy girl, then you’ve never been the most hated girl. But I’ve worn her skin all my life. At first it was the separate group chat with 9 memb...
I haven’t been very honest with you guys. I think on social media I have been giving people the impression that I might be someone that I certainly am not. Hey, it’s ya girl, I wanna use this post as sort of a cross between a self-inflicted intervention/ group hug/Ted Talk. If you’re not ready for at least a little bit of cringe, click off now darlin. I have been really focused (and frankly, quite proud) of the small victories that I’ve had lately. Like I didn’t cry when I broke my finger, and I made myself dinner even though I reeealllyy didn’t feel like it. I got a job!! So I mean, yeah, there has been a lot of little things that have been going sooo well for me. But I’ve been keeping secrets, and I think it’s against my personal code of conduct to lie on this blog because this is how I connect with you guys. <<<3333 I’m gonna keep it real with you. Life has been kicking. My. Ass. Not even in big ways either, so it’s kind of hard to pinpoint what’s really going on...