September & October, 2024

it is halloween, and it is the night of the new moon

october 31st, 2024

i have felt resentful all day. i am trying to practice kindness, but the moment i allow myself to make choices without condemning myself after, i choose something which only makes it harder for me to live. i don’t do anything that is good for me. why do i do that? do i really have so little freedom that when i escape my own claws for one moment, i return to complete failure? my harshness is absolutely seething. i know i have to let go of all this. i’m angry about school next week, about my aloneness, about my lack of joy, about everything. i am not calm like i was yesterday. why do i have to change so often? this is so trivial. i’m disappointing myself

it’s different now. it’s night now. to know what rests beneath me is what holds me is the greatest gift i have given myself. i am hungry for spirit. i sit still with my fingers in positions to cast away pain and suddenly the sky opens up to tell me there is purpose waiting still out there for me to claim. it is halloween, and it is the night of the new moon, and though i am not many things i would like to be, i am going still. i have been going since. i will go until. i have all the time i am meant to have, and suddenly i understand why you loved going to church. why the beach and imagining it with me, softly in it, submerging barely, all of my hollowness pouring out into the wrestling match of water and salt, is the only thing which has offered me the chance to let go. this time, i will. i am doing it all again, and i cannot wait. for the tiredness to end; to wake up in joy. to feel earth like a mother again. to feel love like a tongue again. oh. it soothes me! i am forgetting all of today’s sin, and my monster of a body which roared and heaved all afternoon; and was caught in the threshold between life. i have been thrust here, and i make it well. i vow to myself to stay good, to stay cruel, to stay weak, to stay strong, to be brave, to be frightened, to be trusting, to be desperate. and it will stay like i do, like a good dog. like a good daughter. like a god. always in my own ear, saying “do not do it again”

my practices will save me. i cannot wait for a rebirth as good as this one

making room for the new cycle

october 30th, 2024

sent [redacted] the message today. i wrote it last night on paper and decided to translate it to french this morning, so i got it out of the way, and then i just sent it. i know that i didn’t do anything wrong, but still, whenever you do something for yourself to protect yourself or because you know it’s right for you, it’s hard to escape the feeling of selfishness. i know that i felt cornered, and i’d gone through every scenario; sending this message and being forward was the only way i could move on. i know it will be awkward now in school, but it beats feeling like i owe a relationship to somebody when i am completely in the wrong headspace for it, and it would only be a lie. a massive relief has been lifted from my shoulders, although i have destroyed someone for a moment. i imagine him reading the message and almost want to plummet my face into bath-water to drown. it is good to know i am capable of guilt, and that i am not a narcissist

good news from [redacted] this morning! i have two moon ritual schemes set up now for when i’m back at home, with two different people. i couldn’t be more excited. i also received an email from [redacted] last night about leadership, which i got around to replying to this morning. i told him i could come into school at some point after week six, or we could make a zoom call work. i can’t think about how lonely i am right now; i just have to keep reminding myself how proud i am, and all the good things to come. this is my new way of “getting through it”. i am going to be so happy to hug my parents again

two months gone

october 29th, 2024

have i really been here all this time? i am wilting. i do not like this sensation that i am becoming part of here. i feel more lost than when i began. i am losing touch with my activities. each day, i return to this place to write and i see the days i have laid out, waiting or full and gone, and each i remember; it does not feel like such a long time since it has gone by. my awareness is slipping out from under me despite it’s presence, more now than ever. i do not remember any of the good things unless i try very hard, and it all seems useless in the end. i know i am not depressed, but i feel i cannot help it. i can very easily remind myself when i am in a dark room, and i forget where i truly i am, that i am well. when i forget my responsibility to myself, i stop letting myself down; but i waste the freedom in the end. what am i doing wrong? i know i can win the game of endurance, and by so many lengths, i already have. i have been at four weeks ago, at three weeks ago, at the first week here, and i have managed it. each in those times, in the daily bouts of frenzy and longing, i have reminded myself of the same simple fact: i will go home soon. and so often i manage to console myself. i win back my control and i do it in a mostly healthy way, but i am full of dread. i dread that dreams won’t come true, that i am secretly losing, that i am behind, that i am living to die at the end. i dread reality, and i cannot stave it off. i fill myself with thoughts that destroy reason, and i surrender my will every day. i am frightened of it all, and i don’t know when i will find a place to belong to. i don’t know where my home is. why do i begin to question things when they only force me into blueness? nothing makes me happy except reminding myself of a half-truth, and forcing ideas upon my already very tired mind

my wonderful mirror

october 28th, 2024

called my wonderful mirror today for fifteen minutes. i hate everyone else in the world but her. i am proud of her. i am happy for her. it is not difficult and i imagined it would be. i am catching up in some ways, and i am leading in other ways. she keeps me going. it is her who i imagine at the end of the day when i think of home, and it is her who i miss the most. i cannot keep on like this, seeing her through a screen. she is the strongest person i know, and i have learnt so much, like that i owe it to her to tell her

i am starting to record. i bought an app for my phone which will allow me to use it a bit like a camera. i have spent all day just recording different activities. i’m not sure what this will become. it doesn’t need to be anything besides a thing i have for now, it’ll grow eventually. i am completely devastated in so many ways. i know that this is explicit. i know it’s true that i wish i wasn’t here, but not that i hadn’t come. i am unbelievably happy that i’ve left, and that this has given me the opportunity to see my life for what it is. i have gone from two opposite ends of the spectrum; city to country. suburbs to land. in some ways, i have learnt that i can do this thing anywhere. i can be beautiful anywhere. i can be ugly no matter the time. i can be warm or cold and i can survive it, even if i have nothing. i can survive having nothing, no matter where i am. people do it all the time. i can be people. i can do that, too

i do not know what i am keener for. to get through this or to be back home under the sheets. i talk a lot of shit, but i do feel excited for the mud i am about to push myself through. in a week from now, i’m back at school. i’ve gotten myself into this mess but i can get out of it, and no matter what, i will. it’s my decision what i do. i’m tired but i have been before. it’s going to be fine. i can be, too

sunday solitude

october 27th, 2024

a good day, maybe, maybe really rather challenging; i do not know where to sit now with my solitude piloting this plane of mine. this life of mine, soon to be. now. i try to take hold of it and make plans to bring myself out, but nothing responds! yes, i do feel unwanted. i am not uncomfortable by it. i do not feel rejected. not really. but i feel forced into this seat with no view of anything but vast sea and occasional foggy cloud. i am all i have. i have to keep going. what a horrible idea; is rest very real and possible? what an idea that it could be untrue. well, i know i do not want it, of course, but to lay down and choose would be nice. i am stuck. that’s all. everyone else seems to be having a wonderful time in their outed-ness. i cannot seem to get there, no matter what i do. i know it may be something in the future for me, but i resent my contentedness. i should be writhing with disinterest now, but no, i am a happy girl with finding things i love and going after them for a while. i do not live life very satiated, and i wish it did not pain me so much when people told me about theirs, their satiation, their beginning to fullness, because it almost makes me change my mind about this

i wish i truly had some idea of what would make me turn myself in, to release and to accountability and to my parents and to freedom, but i turn away from it all to fit into the prison of love and self; i cannot see where i come from at all now. i am much energy slipping through bars and i am not bleeding. i do not know where i go from a place, though imprisoned in, i finger the keys to each day and night, and i say, “maybe tomorrow,” but then tomorrow is here and it is so beautiful to see the sun through the window and to hear noise from outside, but to know i am truly a being when i am in my chamber; that i can be left to this and have all of this, and it means nothing. i believe some people would be immediately unhappy. but this is a calling of some kind. this is a test to my strength, and i am addicted to proving that i can survive. each day is filled with so much grief, and i am convinced tomorrow i will not get through another day like this, but then it’s over before i know it. the noise does not know what that is like. the people i love in their outed-ness do not know what that is like; to shed from speech and crave everything but colour. because i cannot tell when this will end, and when i will be sweet enough to walk again, out of here and out of this

in loneliness i have found a limited but bountiful love that makes me incapable of sin; i am locked up here so that i learn to breathe with just my chest. i thought i needed grace because that is what you told me, but i only ever needed prayer; your blessing only shoved me further into the ground. i have learnt better than you to hold my own word, to hold hers and his and all the earth’s, and someday i will be everywhere because of my deviation from the cracks of the world

tired of so much [in]difference

october 26th, 2024

nice surprises. still drunk! exhausted and growing thin now. we ordered three bottles of champagne between the three of us, so i know i have had at least a bottle of champagne to myself. she offered me a long, thin aubrey hepburn cigarette and i took a photo, smoking it out the front of the cathedral. it was a good thing to smoke. they are nice people. they are going to teach me how to make wine when i come home. the food was so expensive and small. i have never eaten anything like that before, not that i can remember. i bought three various items. i stole a coat hanger by accident. they are nice people. i wanted to go around the world with them. my head was spinning and in the car, i spoke french so well. nobody would have known i was quiet most of the time. i spoke more than the little girl in the backseat. i showed [redacted] my french music. [redacted]’s parents might be getting divorced, and i do not want to call her about it unless she calls me. i am tired of expecting nothing. i am tired of this

did meditation and yoga

october 25th, 2024

it was a good morning today. i slept fine and left my room without my phone. watched dinner in america which was not so bad at all. had a slice of brioche for breakfast, showered and washed my face. listened to joni mitchell all morning. drank a bottle of water and finished the movie. i wrote four pages in my journal, as usual. it was good, slow journaling today. took me good time to culminate thoughts. i pissed and meditated for five minutes. second time doing the unguided meditation, and i think i need longer. so far, i’ve been spending the first minute or so doing breath-work, then i do a quick sound and body scan, and then i spend the rest of the time trying to think in a very clear and stream-lined way about intentions. i think i want to try doing it for longer tomorrow. it’s been helpful, i think. then i did something really exciting. i spent time doing yoga for twenty minutes. i really do hate following videos for morning stretches or yoga or exercise, but this lady wasn’t so bad at all. and i also felt like i could do anything she asked me to, no matter how shaky i was. anyway, i left feeling good. i unloaded the dishwasher and i ate my pasta outside, but it had onion in it so i couldn’t give the rest to the dog. i gave her the meat, though. drank my juice. then for the last half hour, i made a voice recording about moon phases and how i’m really feeling about getting back into gaelic wiccan practices. i’ve also just been writing

i can’t believe it’s going to be november soon. i remember when it was the day before the first of october, and i couldn’t believe i still had another two months left. then i remember the tenth of october, when i called my parents. maybe it was the day before. time is moving. time is going. i wish i was going with it

thirty days left before i leave this place

october 24th, 2024

weighed myself this morning. was surprised that i have unintentionally lost weight. i am thin but i figured with all the processed food and heavy dairy i have been eating daily, i’d certainly have gained something. i am pleased. confused, though. it seems sort of wrong. called [redacted] this morning whilst on the couch, watching bridget jones — the second film. i just felt like calling her. she came from school and showed my her halloween outfits. there is a party tomorrow night, and if i’m lucky i will sleep through it and hear about it another time. i’m sure i’ve written that before! i don’t like this feeling, but i know it. that’s better than a new sensation. i am reading about that in crime and punishment, after the murder he describes how he feels. it was enough to make me feel sick, that chapter, simply imagining that sharpness; what do you do? you couldn’t do anything to fix it, or know when it would go away. i don’t feel good today. i think it might be the moon, you know. really. everything has happened at such oddly specific times this cycle. i am in accidental alignment. i read some of my old work online and felt pretty proud of it. i know it is truly something good when i read it back months later and still get the chills from my own writing; is that arrogant to admit?

i should take a shower, but i’m worried about what time the cleaner will arrive to the house, and i don’t want her to walk in on me by accident. i should start getting set up downstairs. she is supposed to clean the rooms this time. i need to eat something, too. i meditated this morning without any guide, and it felt good afterward. i am always worried to do uninstructed meditation sessions because i am worried that i will get discouraged from not being able to concentrate, but this was a good first time for not having done one in a while. it has always been my dream that someday i’ll be able to meditate on a topic, and discover something very deep and important. i feel as though i’m all spent-out, but it’s not time for me to rest. that will come later, maybe next week. yes, next week. i will start resting and looking after myself. i just have to finish this week on a more reflective note, try and get myself through the feelings and focus on better horizons. it is such a relief to think i will be home soon, and all of this will begin to matter then

i am bound to survive

october 23rd, 2024

however, can it be possible to live this way? i am burnt out by my wants. if i repent now, it is purely by act of more desire, not desperation, and i seem to confuse the two. i would say i have heavy impulse now to pray and have faith, but i have had that my whole life. the only reason i feel it more brutally now is for i am in reach of myself. i go to bed very tiresome and wake up even more so. my dreams have been just horrible. when will that stop? i write every day that i will survive; it is an act of kindness in which i do not dabble in. it’s blunt. it is the kind of thing your dad tells you whilst you cry from loving too much. you will survive. and it feels just the same here, just the opposite of what i need, for i know that, but i am resolute in determining my unconscious mind, and this survivalist sentiment pulls me further away from the gaping whole in reality’s bridge. but i have to be hard. i must tell myself every day and be kind in the long-run, in the process of tiredness. i am unfolding and have nowhere to lay my head. this morning i was sentient in a wonderful way. i was gross and showered it off, filmed myself in the steam. i dressed up and ate outside again. i journaled for almost an hour. and i lay down with the dog to pat her, for she showed me her belly for the first time. she kept looking up at me to check if i was still there. am i? am i? am i? i get worried about thinking that too often, but sometimes it’s a painful tinging relief to know that i can ask it without coming into hysteria. i worry that i lie to myself, though. i worry that i too often think, it will be over soon, when it won’t. but never has relativity been more important to me than here; i listen for the sound of the clock everywhere. i am waiting for it to be time to leave, and i worry that i will not live at all

how will i get my life together?

october 22nd, 2024

i want to do summer internships and despite what i need write now, i do want to leave home. i am crushed that a perfect opportunity like this one i found today is only of access to people with rich parents. i am also aggravated that an online poetry seminar i am interested in taking is for some reason declining my payment. it would be the perfect three hours for me to practice my writing with a cup of herbal tea in the morning, with other passionate poets and with the help of a professional who i respect a lot. so! i need to sort that out. i don’t understand why the payment won’t work, but it’s pissing me off. if not, i am so desperate i would consider asking my parents to allow me to use their card and transfer them the money in return; i normally would never go through that kind of hassle. i also don’t understand what is happening on saturday with [redacted], or where i should be meeting her when i arrive in reims. i have enjoyed two days in the sun eating my lunch, feeding the scraps to the dog. that makes us both happy

i ended up submitting some less-than-grand poetry to a publication which cost me a fair bit of money. i ought to do something that’s good for the soul now, like read or do the latin course-work, or my maths homework. i still need to ask if i can use the printer downstairs, or if they even have one. it’s hard to catch one of the parent’s in a minute alone. i could not function that way. i’ve been staring at a screen all day; i know that, and so i’ve got to go downstairs and fill up my water-bottle, meditate and do some good work. that would make me fuller. i’ve still got around an hour until dinner-time, so that’s more than enough time for me to do some smaller more whole things. this all day has just been about piecing together parts of my life in order to construct one in the future that will be worth my time. do you know what i mean, if you ignore what a sad sentiment that is? because although this does not feel sad in contrast to the lives of other people, it has occurred to me that i am not living mine. but i cannot explain it to you; it feels like it’s not possible to live until i have sorted this out. yesterday i challenged myself to stop what i was doing and stare out the window for ten seconds at a single patch of grass; i was itching to leave it. i have work to do

productive, avoidant monday

october 21st, 2024

it’s been a very long day. a good one, though. i managed to do lots of things. i woke up and found the house empty, and there was a note left by [redacted] telling me to make the most of the calm. they did not come home until very recently, and it’s just passed seven at night now. i started the day by writing in email in response to [redacted], who sent me one, very small and early in the morning that said she missed me, because she had seen a photo of me. i wrote a very long, wordy email back to her. then i called my parents and drank a glass of milk in chocolate powder; i did not warm it up and the milk had not come from the fridge. i did not eat any breakfast. i cleaned my room very courtly and then took a shower and washed my face, changed and everything. i came downstairs then and ate lunch outside with the dog. the sun was brilliant and shining; i wore a camisole all day. and i gave the dog my bacon leftovers from the pasta while i drank my juice. it was so nice outside that i even brought out my journal to begin writing, but it had gotten to windy, so i returned inside and finished. i wrote four pages today, which was a good effort; i had nothing to reflect on or hope for that felt worth coming out. i simply rambled in silence for i knew it was good for me. i went back upstairs and did more of the cambridge latin course-work, but i have not yet finished the chapter i’m on. i will tonight, hopefully, after dinner. i did that for about an hour, then i went downstairs and ate a yoghurt. i just finished the movie i started shortly after, au revoir, la-haut which was a french war film. i enjoyed it. i wrote some french in my journal, and for the last hour i’ve been doing maths homework at the kitchen table, waiting for everyone to come home. now i’ve retreated in my room to do whatever i feel like until dinner, which i sincerely hope will be in front of the tv. i cannot tell you exactly why, but it’s so completely horrible to sit at that table with the family. it feels like anything could happen. i almost want to fake a migraine every night now so that [redacted] will tell everyone to be quieter. now that she knows it’s common for me, i think it’s possible that i could stage something like that and have some more time to myself. what a horrible thought. either way, the day is basically over, and i have done a lot, but i do not feel regulated now. i feel a bit uncomfortable. i do not like the nagging way that [redacted] yells, “mamaaaan! it drives me up the wall. my back aches and aches and i can’t get my hip to stop itself from clicking each time i fold up and off the bed. i am ready to come home

potentially valuable mistakes

october 20th, 2024

i’ve spread myself out too wide, and in a rhythm completely unchained. nothing makes me happier than to have myself to myself again, but why have i betrayed my conscience so easily? all it takes is a simple rejection of reality, or persistent anti-reason. i told myself everything i did not need to hear, and i made it so that it was the only thing i knew. it’s only for a short period of time. i should do everything i can. i should just climb into the boat and rock it a little, see if it’ll budge this time. how long will it take for me to be okay with my edge of fragility? it’s a delicate thing, this belief of mine that i hold onto: look out for opportunity, grab on and don’t let go. find something. other times, i open a wound. like last night, i opened a wound that should have stayed very healed

each time i am with a man, i feel his anti-presence as such a weight that i must make up for it, and it almost becomes a joke. it does become a joke. and i know that this is not normal; it is why i have sensed for a long time that i should not be around men. i do not like to speculate on why, because i seem to know the reason deep down already, and that is already in it’s burial ground; i will not poke that bear. i will not dare. but i seemed to think this time it would be okay. maybe i could try and see if anything has changed, and maybe i will not cancel out my possibility of liking men. but, i am horrible. i do not listen to myself here, when so much else is loud. like the music last night. even though it was impossible to hear him, i still tried to read his lips; i was disgusted by what i was doing. when i took him outside to teach him how to kiss a woman, i could not believe what i was doing. i had to leave myself for a moment. he shook and shook and i nearly threw up with pride at what i’d done, but when we went back inside away from the darkness and he called my by my first name (the name my parents gave me when i was born) and i could really see his face, and properly see it, i thought that he did not have the right to my name. just like i will never address him by his, he should not address me by mine. it has no power of me, and yet he does it for the sake! he is not like she; he is not wise or witty or clever like i might’ve thought

in all honesty, it’s my foolish error. i have not been violated. i was in fact the perpetrator of these events. but i have been clear. i have made my boundaries thick-on. i will now go radio-silent. that is all i can do. what i really want to say about this mess of mine is that i will spend a while recovering from the mistake of misleading myself from previous knowledge; i do not like men. i am not attracted to them. i do not want to kiss them. part of this recovery will be me reclaiming my body, despite giving him access to it. despite it being my choice, i now feel completely creeped out by ever allowing him to be close to me in that way. and i will not let it happen again. i was out of alignment with my true wishes and self, and i understand that it makes me human, but i am not used to this significant regulation. i almost feel as if i’ve been set back. this experience has been painful, but valuable. i will try to move forward how i know best, and i cannot wait for this grossness to lift

commencing a brief, better hell

october 19th, 2024

it is the first day of break, and may there be no more days like this one. i think i will die if i do not go home soon. i pity this horrible place. i am developing an imaginary migraine to help look after myself. i am laying in my dark bedroom listening to brown noise with a blanket over my head

this is all so horrible. it’s just like some kind of terrible dream that i can’t wake up from; i am being taken along without any input. i have to go the party tonight! i am laying ready on my bed now, after five hours of despair and an interruption from dinner, and i believe truly that if i do not drink tonight then bad things are going to happen. i called [redacted] and asked if he’d come, because even though he’s the only person i may throw up at the sight of, he is also the only person who would do something like that for me. i am going because i have the sense that it’s something i really should do as an experience, but also because i would like for [redacted] to think that im doing okay, and im going out to parties and kissing boys and doing very normal things. and i’d like to do this, just not now. not for this duration of time. not at 11pm at night, until god knows what hour. i am meant to be taking care of myself! i am doing many of the things i told myself today that i would not do. after today, it ends. no boys, no drinking, no bad eating, no potential smoking. it ends tonight. i will come home early and go to bed tearfully and not reply to any heartfelt messages from [redacted]. i simply hurl at the idea that we will spend tonight together; i hurl at my insolence, my anger and my inability to reciprocate male affection or attention. there will be no sweet-talk. i will not tolerate it. i will drink and dance and go home early. that is it

someone’s lover again

october 18th, 2024

i slept well last night for the first time in a while. i simply shut my eyes and it came, and i was aware that it would but i did not freak out. i woke with swollen eyes and i realised i had dreamt about my dad and brother. i cannot remember what they were doing, but i woke up and was so grateful to have been with them. i am on the way to my last day of school for the term here before we go on the two week break. i am going to see [redacted] and tell him to kiss me. i would like affection; there is none of it here, aside from my nightly bonne nuit kiss on the nose from [redacted]. and i think that touch starved feeling is why i wouldn’t mind having sex with him, even though we don’t know each other that well. but maybe not. i am also very happy to have sex with lots of different people if they only asked. i don’t know if he is the kind of boy who would have sex at all, but i will tell him one day when we are alone. i do not know if we are allowed to be alone with each other, and how will i make anything special happen in that school in five weeks, possibly less if he cannot see me during the holidays? it does feel very good to invest myself in this, and i am not thinking as much about home this morning as i do other mornings. i am not overwhelmed, either, i am relieved. i have that feeling of when someone heaves you up from the floor and says, “you are so light!” so perhaps a bit of pride and loveliness. it feels so nice as always to be given-to. i have only just enough energy to receive it here. i feel lucky. i feel like this could be very good for me, but i will be regretful either way. what will i do?

there is a halloween party tonight at the kids’ school, and i have told the family that i will come, because i would like to do something. and [redacted] will be happy either way, but i have a feeling it will make her excited to see that i have come with her. i will wear a witch costume, and maybe if i am lucky, there will be drinks there for the adults. i am very sick. i clear my throat every chance i get. it’s a nice sick for now; i can still function but my voice is a little changed. i hope i can make people happy today, and that the lunch food is good; i hope for the best last day possible. i would like to relax, at least; im still waiting to feel like i know what i want

quand le jour est court et triste

october 17th, 2024

the world is so pregnant here. the earth is clean and perfect. the air is full. i am sick for wanting more. i am being tested

i wrote this this morning, and a lot has changed. i am loved again. a boy gave me a beautiful hand written letter in english and told me that i have burnt his heart. i wrote a letter back to him in french. we are going out with each other now. i do not know what this means, but maybe i have a boyfriend. i am tired now, and that is why i cannot tell you everything as it really was, but it was very beautiful and simple. i called my mum who is at the beach with her childhood best friend, and i sobbed very loudly on the phone reading each of them the letter. i think it is because i am afraid. i am concerned and confused. i do not know what i want. maybe i want this. i do want this. my stomach is pained and i really want to curl up in bed, empty, and sleep in a big shirt. but i would not mind if he was there too

it’s a real cold place now, thinking about next year

october 16th, 2024

i am so tired. i submit myself over to it. i wrath in literature and prose. i imagine i am powerful and i laugh when i listen to my audiobook about god. i bite back at the french who laugh at [redacted]’s accent. i will spend my time next year focused. i will come home so heavy with boredom and love. i will drink more and smoke less in spirit. i will learn to drive with my dad. i will roam at the beach for weeks, picking shells, plucking feathers from the sand. i am grown now; i know it will take longer than three seconds to kill me. i will write you so many letters. i will hunt down that cd for your old car that i’ve been thinking of driving in with you one day. i will write on my floor with the window open and the plants from the bathroom will have moved to the ceil. i will not forget to water them this summer. i will work and work, and send inquiries. i will set myself up. what does that mean? has anyone ever felt this bad before? what does that matter anyway. i will annotate poems, and read a little. i will study. i will see my family at the dinner table every night and make them all laugh. at christmas—oh god, at christmas—we will all be together and happy about it. mum and i will crash out after on the couch and watch love, actually with ads because it’s more special to watch it on tv than a streaming platform, and it’s more excusable. my mum. my mum. my mum! i hope she does not think of me and count the days down like i do. i hope she does not cry. dad, i wish you would talk to me. i wish you would not work like this; i am tired of missing you. get it over with quickly. the world is all black and my brother is awake at home. i will be a good daughter next year. i will be a good sister and a good lover. i will wake up early. i will want this

strawberry gum

october 15th, 2024

im on the bus home. it’s 5:30 and im chewing strawberry gum. its the sweetest thing i’ve ever tasted. i suck and suck, im barely chewing. some poor kid got yelled at by the bus driver just now for throwing something at the driver—rightfully so, yelled at—but poor because as he left the bus, his mother came to pick him up from the stop; and he got told off again, this time with the driver telling his mother in front of everyone on the bus. it was hideous. i’m so happy to not be that boy. another day of joni mitchell. not a horrible day, i might add. i posted on my blog, and i submitted some poetry. i felt okay. i ate pasta at the cafeteria and custard for dessert, but there was no grapefruit today. me and [redacted] went to carrefour and i bought my handmade local lollipops. i sucked one before my last two classes. i also got my dark mint chocolate that we always have at home in australia, and this strawberry gum i’m chewing. [redacted] knows five languages. this is absolutely the most of anybody i have ever met. she is still very shy. if i knew five languages, i think that i would not be shy. i don’t know why. perhaps she is just shy in english and french. maybe in the other three she is loud and alive and mean. i don’t think so, though

even though last night i slept fine, i still yawned all day and wished id gone to bed earlier. it simply isn’t possible sometimes. we eat dinner so late here that i spend all of the afternoon hungry and trying to distract myself, and the only time i feel satiated and full enough to let out is after dinner, so i try and get decent writing done then. that normally goes to about ten at night. then i sleep. still, eight hours does nothing for me: i am burning out here. i talked to my friend from home today before lunch and her guinea pig is grown up and she has gained weight. she looks very different and i realise now that some people might also look different by the time i come home

well-slept, totally fine; push-on

october 14th, 2024

haven’t had sport yet, so i haven’t officially made it through the day, but i’ve been at school for five hours, and done four hours of class and lunch where i held conversations in french, so i’d still classify it as an achievement. i have a very upset stomach and i have to be careful not to think about anything too grave that could send me into a complete literary schizophrenia; i am itching to get out. the family confuses me. why do they want me around when they are so clearly at a loss of priority amongst themselves, anyway? how do i possibly not add to their mess? i am exhausted. the world just keeps going. home is a horrible paradox that i want no part in now, not when i am removed of it so completely; i cannot keep one foot in the door for the rest of the time that i am here, or i will just go insane. plus, i have a very singular feeling that it is not what i really want to do at all, and in fact, i am compelled to only by comfort, and sight. i think that i would like to loosely know that all is well still without me, but i don’t; it hurts me. i lie about everything. i am not sure how i feel. writing feels like dragging out the most horrifying truth and finding it old and shrivelled. it’s not here anymore, i am half-abysmal and completely blue, and do not want to be hailed a war-hero for sitting down and trying not to cry. i do not want to see you applaud and pretend to know, or want; i will come back unscathed by my own cowardness, the only bruises on my elbows

sunday is god’s day

october 13th, 2024

i’m swarmed with emotion. each day ends the same. sunday is truly god’s day. i finish rainer maria rilke’s poems in the car-ride and [redacted] falls asleep on my shoulder after fighting off tiredness for a strong ten minutes. i listen to joni mitchell and text [redacted] good luck with first day of term four tomorrow ❤️ i love you along with an attached photo of [redacted]’s sleeping head on my blue sweater, identical to the photo i sent her, must have been a month ago now… i swat [redacted]’s hand away when he tries to wake her because of boredom, because i am tired of him now

we spent the day at charleville, and then sedan. first was bowling, and i lost by a lot, but there’s no surprise there. i drank a coke zero and then we walked around streets to place ducale, where we ate lunch. i had salmon pasta, and couldn’t finish it, and i drank a virgin mojito. i felt very desolate in the restaurant, and i was suddenly overcome by tiredness. i watched the elon musk funded spacex starship launch live on the way to chateau fort, and couldn’t help but smile at the eruption of cheering crowd when the booster landed back down into the chopsticks seamlessly. i do not care if we go to mars, or not. i do not really care where we go. but it was special, texting my brother to say, “turn on the news!” and him, replying, in what was the middle of the night for him, “i’m watching now :)”. the castle is nothing short of breathtaking. it is unbelievable architecture. i am truly excited for this next week, as it is the last week of term here; i will have two weeks of selfishness, rot and read and write and eat and bathe, go out sometimes, talk very little, call home often, write more, and that will be it. then three weeks of school and i am home again. this last week feels like my final trial, although every hour also seems to be. regardless, i’m coming into tomorrow very hopeful and inspired by today and what i’ve seen

manner-less little boy, you make living a chore

october 12th, 2024

oh god, i am so happy to have not been born an insensitive boy. to be so far away from femininity; this is heaven. that must be hell. perhaps that is why they are so disinterested in life? for they know they have already been ripped off by being born into their bodies. my skirt and my red lips. my breasts and my cold, shaven legs. i am dragging myself through tasks and listening to a shouting that makes my heart beat in stark, crimson jumps; i imagine it in there, tensing each time i hear that awful, itchy-whiny, nasily, euh! at a video game, and the father’s encouragement. i feel unromantic here. i feel indescribably annoyed and angry, and i cannot possibly turn it into something kind. i am so tense. all i think to do is breathe

trying to calm the itch

october 11th, 2024

i make obnoxious guesses about the lives of others. i wish i were more beautiful and i wish i were less eager to be with myself now that i am all i have. i want to see nobody around me who knows me until i want to know them. [redacted] sent me a beautiful email last night in response to the one i sent her yesterday, and i feel horrible for doubting her response-time at all. so much joy, i have read it three times over. there’s something wonderful about an email. texting is dead. i woke up to it and to [redacted] calling me. i did my makeup in front of the mirror and told her about how it’s been going here, which is really just fine. she told me about her lice from last week, and how she cries each night. i am trying to stay calm, is what we tell each other. i’m doing it, you know? breakfast was cereal with grapefruit juice. i listened to rainer maria rilker’s poems on the bus into town. it is dark and painful outside

my clothes itch me all day, i’m wearing the tingly stockings, and i can feel all of my hair on top of my head and on top of my eyelashes. i don’t know why i wore jangly earrings today. i feel just revolting. i can’t wait to wash my hair tomorrow. i think it’s [redacted]’s birthday tomorrow, too, but i can’t be sure. maybe i misheard. i’m very unsatisfied and need to pee constantly, and don’t drink enough water at all. and my stomach hurts all the time from me sleeping on it to stop it from hurting overnight. how do i have this in me? i really don’t. how have i been here for six weeks already? how, god, will i make it another six weeks? somebody tell me. how will i survive four more school mondays and legs that tingle all the time and this constant tiredness and sickness? how is it impossible to leave? why have i done this? how could i have done this? i know i will finish. i know i’ll come soon. all of my poems lately have felt like that at the end, and then i never do. except peak erotica is anticipation, not failure to give, isn’t it? i am tired of this. i am tired of all this. won’t somebody pick me up and bring me home? i am rotten too soon; somebody weight me down so heavy i can’t get back up, but i don’t want to go crazy, i just want to be as good as you. seven more days

t’en veux, ou pas?

october 10th, 2024

gruelling morning lessons. a truly deadly combination of earth and life sciences followed by history, geography, and geopolitics. i just finished my two hour english specialist class. i felt very depressed this morning, and i have got to sleep for longer at night. i refrain from doing what is good for me and that i want to do in the afternoons before dinner because i am more keen to distract myself and not run into trouble, so i end up doing it in the night; taking my makeup off, if i even manage it, right before bed, braiding my hair and journalling, laying my clothes out for tomorrow on the desk-chair. distraction consists of lots of eating and watching, and thinking in very limited amounts. sometimes showering, but not always. i need to start putting the important things first, creating a routine, and the things i actually want to do before dinner, because then i can simply fall asleep after without being plagued with anxiousness; it is half the reason why i put off falling asleep, because i’m busy imagining that sometime soon maybe i’ll get up and want to do it. i don’t like my life here; i cannot imagine it differently, i feel at a capacity i have never quite thought possible for myself, so the thought of doing anything more than i am doing currently is jarring enough, but i know i need to change something. it is not worth thinking about whether my restlessness and inattentiveness after consistency is due to my natural dopamine deficiency, which is what my mum would ask and it certainly is, but i cannot accept it because i simply cannot live like this forever. to have somebody tell me that i will need to pick myself up from the rut of living every day, even when it bores me and i cannot even dare poke back at it for lack of words, well that might be the final cut. for the sake of hope, i need to believe that this is not like a disease, but a brief sickness that i will get over one day

camel’s back is sore

october 9th, 2024

it’s hump day! why do we call it that? well, you know. but it’s an ugly word for wednesday, which is normally kind to me; i should give it a rest. i have never spent a wednesday in bed. why not?

i found my work hadn’t saved from yesterday and i’d lost a good two hours worth of writing to a nearly complete article. i was proud of that work. it won’t happen again. i thought about hurting myself today, for sure it came as a bit of a surprise, just a fleeting moment in the student lounge when my jeans were soaked from the rain, my sock were in scrunched up balls at the end of my shoes, my hair was frizzy and gross, and i’d decided to wear my pyjama jumper to school underneath my leather jacket, which was also completely soaked. since i have stopped and started feeling much better, when i think about cutting, normally / all of the time i find the idea short of pointless or unnecessary or sometimes even disgusting, and i see immediately past the appeal. but today it was shiny and bright, and i thought it might be the day, but it wasn’t. i showered after school and shaved my legs and reminded myself that now was the time, but i thought against it as i washed my body and nothing stung. that was that

i also called my parents after school. they’re still in new zealand, doing very exciting things that i should be doing with them. they’d just woken up when i called, and i’d just finished eating a late dinner, and was about to crawl into bed. i ended up monologging, and when i finished, mum told me that i should be in a one-woman show. i have to go to bed now

no singling, your study is a bright spot

october 8th, 2024

where’s the sun? has anybody seen the sun? i am swallowing my own tongue. i have plans. every town is forever away. the trees are so tall and angular and they all stare at me with pleasure. what is there to smile about? i would not smile if i were a tree. maybe if i were a cat or a bird that sung and nested with it’s young. one day i will. music is tasteless. the ceiling is blue and rattling. my feet and the ins of my thighs are the warmest shades of me; you’ll find no more melancholy in the world than you’ll find there. it is not worth the trouble of uncovering a mystery to create one, although it offers virtual victory. i wonder, are they happy with theirs? sometimes i do not know what i have written in my own journals and notebooks. sometimes when people ask me what my poems mean, i don’t know the answer

repenting

october 7th, 2024

do not get it wrong; this is not me repenting. this is me being mean. i cry not from guilt but from anger and frustration, and when you come to get me, it is like the icing on the cake; who wants me at their place? that was it. no sleep last night, and i knew it was no luck. i trembled and walked after her, who talked for me like she had the right. she did. i sat and waited. i saw you and smiled, but i was crying. you were disheartened but you looked at me strangely. car ride home was silent. i grabbed myself when i could. i spent the day home alone. it was funny, really. most of the day i spent cleaning my room. properly cleaning. i dragged rubbish out in bags, and then i did something very expected and was still surprised by it. i began to pack my suitcases. i emptied my drawers of clothes and squeezed things in methodically. mostly, i felt interested to see if it would all fit, but it was nice to know i can pack my bags anytime. that was really why i did it. to know that i am in control of that kind of thing. it gave me the illusion too that i might be leaving sooner than i think. i scrubbed things off my bed-sheet; melted dark chocolate. and that was it. no joy or hate in the world, just me and the same old empty indulgence. dinner was good. i showered after and scrubbed myself

ignoring life for love

october 6th, 2024

today was exciting. i am writing late. i feel very awful and achey now. i woke up feeling beautiful. i ate a croissant and did ballet stretches. i am trying to learn a few things. it is good for me. i like to move my body in this way. i have not done it for a while. i journaled after

we visited verdun today, which is a war site, one of the places where the germans and the french fought one another. we visited four different sites, most memorials, one museum of history. we ate at a diner before. i had a bad chili dish. i felt bad. the car rides were long and difficult. i do not like being between two car seats occupied by a ten and six year old. they are both so loud, and annoying. they pester each other relentlessly. when i came home, i was so tired, and i went straight to my room to watch a movie and call [redacted{. she answered. we talked for a bit about life, and how hard things are. i realised that the reason why i feel so out of control when i’m feeling disconnected from my body is also largely to do with what happened to me as a kid. it feels very wrong to be gone from my body when it is something i’ve tried so hard to reclaim, and what makes up so much of me. i talked a lot. she listened and rarely said anything. she cried because she hadn’t talked to anyone like she’d talked to me. i felt confused. i still feel very confused about all of that. i try not to think about it, but it gives me lots of guilt and sadness. there’s nothing i can do to help it

we ate dinner, which was a good time. i felt happy and light, and i even talked quite a bit at the table. for what i usually manage to say after a full day, anyway. and when i came back upstairs, i saw that [redacted] had messaged me back, and that she wanted to call me. that’s what i just finished doing. we talked on the phone for such a long time. she is everything that’s good in the world. she is what i come to and go from and arrive at and see at the end of darkness. i am possibly more in love with her every single time i talk with her, even when its horrible, because it never is. as i’ve said before, the horrible is the best part. but no horror tonight, just pure love. just pure us. dear god, it’s been good. tomorrow, don’t give up on me; i can still repent later for ignoring life for love

called both my parents, it’s nice

october 5th, 2024

i can’t talk about myself. i cry and cry. it’s time to pack myself up neatly and get the fuck away from everyone before i break into a sweat; i already have. how, god!—has it been this long? of nothing, still. what was i thinking? who was i fooling? what was i busy proving? why do i smile when they praise me? because they never do, and i tell them that. i want them to feel good, i swear i do! i’m wasting like i said that i would the moment i was no longer standing on one foot, juggling

dad, i love you—how did you ever do this without you? i suppose you did have you, but i have you now. you had nobody. you were the loneliest boy in the world. and mum—how did you manage to get out? all these people here are little, they have little dreams, little sites to imagine; they are broadening and flowering but they are little. and why aren’t you like that, too? you had worse, you had nothing, like dad had nobody. do you still both feel like that? even when you must also feel like you’ve got everything you never had? will it always be like this? never feeling full, even when you know that you are, is there always something missing that you used to not have?

walking whilst sitting down

october 4th, 2024

i’m back, waiting for the day to end now. for this week to end. it’s friday. i have one class left. i pray to god i find something fun to distract myself with. my thickest fingernail broke today, right off my thumb; i ripped it off just now. it’s barely a nub, cut just past the finger. it’s ridiculous. i haven’t had a nail this short in a long time. i feel mutilated. it was the kind of fingernail that was so impressive, too, that although i couldn’t bare to look at it because holding it detached from my finger would’ve been just too wrong, i did consider tucking it away in a tissue. it’s in the bin now. oh well. i also considered texting my host mum that i had become sick and thrown up in the bathrooms, and to ask if she could come and get me, but i would never do that. everything is under permanent consideration. i forgot to mention that yesterday was very good, and i felt really basically happy for most parts of the day except for the last hour of class. i have finished reading four books in the last three days ( boule de suif by guy de maupassant, amores: poems by d.h. lawrence, selected poems of robert frost, and love in the night by f. scott fitzgerald) and i am cured, also currently reading three other books, all of which are in french. i’m very excited to finish school here. last night i couldn’t fall asleep, as in that i was very worried about waking up, so i tried to procrastinate for as long as possible. i ended up talking to myself, looking up at the ceiling, until i finally did sleep. it’s very beautiful here, but i am very alone, and i miss my life and all the little people who i love so much simply because we have captured an impression of knowing one another, even though we certainly don’t. like me and the guy at the counter in the op-shop, or the ladies in the aisles, and the children who play tennis in my old primary school, who i see when i walk home from the bus stop. here i am a waiting imposter. i surely know nobody at home in a grocery store any better than i know the strangers here in the supermarché, yet i feel that i might understand them more somehow

every day is one day closer to christmas

october 3rd, 2024

daylight savings setting in here. maybe it’s daylight spending. i can never be sure which one is which. it’s the one where the sun rises later than normal, and it sets earlier than normal. so savings, yes? we’re preserving daylight for later. i just know im wrong

anyhow, its so cold and dark. the bus has nice lighting when the lights go out. it’s all blue. and all the houses aren’t white; the lighting is warm oranges and yellows. it’s amazing. i don’t imagine i will be here long enough to see snow, but i imagine it would be very beautiful. i ate fruit for breakfast this morning: a banana and a tiny mandarin. and a cup of juice. i will tell you what im wearing because it’s a good outfit, and i want you to know that every day i’ve worn something different and special. i have brought enough clothes to do that, and haven’t even worn all of them yet, if that gives you an idea of how overpacked i am. i’m wearing my nicest white lacy bra, with no wire, my black long-sleeve thermal, the white jumper that [redacted] bought for me when we went to reims, my black pleated work skirt—which is no longer a work skirt when i think about it—my white tights and leg warmers, my docs, nice black leather gloves that i’ve never worn before, and my black beanie with a bauble on it. a pom-pom on it. and im wearing my headphones listening to grimes. it’s really an accident that i’m always writing on the bus, about the day before it has begun, but i hope you can understand that by the time the day is over, and i get home, all i manage to do is sloppily undress myself and clamber into the shower, eat dinner and read or try a film. then go to sleep. most of the time, anyway. sometimes i manage to journal. today is going to be a long day, but not as long as tomorrow. every day i wake up, it is one day closer to christmas (that i will spend with my family, in my nice bed, wishing i was here—so i’ve really gotta do this, no matter how bad i want to get gone)

a hopeful day

october 2nd, 2024

i’ve started editing my blog (for real, this time!). i was sitting in the study / student lounge with two hours to spend, so i spent it organising my studies for articles i plan to write. i feel good because i know that all i have to do now is write. one way or another, it’ll be written. that’s a feeling i can’t describe. it’s a good feeling. maybe it’s a lack of godlessness? it’s a presence. of self, i don’t know, but of power, yes. definitely power. i wield the sword in this equation

today there was lots of crying, but not from me. i went to the carrefour this morning, and i even had time to write before school. i wandered around the town because i was locked out. i walked through the graveyard and sat down outside, and i filed my nails. i saw an old man walk in, then i left. i asked myself, “who are you going to see?” and i heard an answer, “nobody you don’t know.” so that was it. i payed much attention to french class today. we are studying gargantua and a particular paragraph contrasting hunger with religion and food; the character has more of an appetite for food than for spirituality. i also knew the answer in class yesterday, to a question about what the third branch of christianity is, outside of protestant and catholic. in my dreams, i raised my hand and said, “evangelism,” but i didn’t, and nobody else had the answer. i could have been worshipped. missed opportunity to prove my intelligence. and the improved french after was good too, with the new student

i came home, took a shower and lay around in my flannel pyjama top and short shorts, and my slippers. it’s been good. time is being very kind today. i don’t feel it so much

something for me

october 1st, 2024

it’s not about me. but so where is it? who is it hiding from, and why? i have travelled to the other side of the world to chase after it, and i’m still not fast enough. still, my chest is heavy mid-morning and i am drawn to hugeness. i am drawn to isolation amongst love; is it proving to be too much intimacy for an anxious embrace? i am drawn to angst, not nervousness. suddenly in the country of a place where i have no name, finally, i am clouded by nervousness, and dreams that cannot be chipped away at from all the way out here, no matter how lucky i am or beside myself i am. everywhere, it’s always going to be about leaving, going on, quickening, hastily making my way to the moon’s other face, an ode to the disappearing act it pulls. maybe it is hiding on the moon after all. maybe that is my true calling

speaking of, i called you last night. i never can work out if all of this is really for you, the whining and the writing and the way i reel in your empty words, or the other you that could be (me, afterwords) (but do i think this is before? and when is the middle), but either way, it is possibly just easier to imagine saying these things to a you rather than to myself, or to nothing, and telling you about my dreams and sicknesses and how much i want to live. i am really very inclined for it, you know? i am ready to run after you, whenever you’re ready: just be there for me in the case of silence or greed

everywhere is boring without love

september 30th, 2024

this morning i thought of messaging [redacted] about sitting on the bus with me after school, and walking me home, and it’s highly likely that i am still going to message him after writing this. if he’s still interested in me, that is. i know i only want to see him so that he will kiss me again, but i think it’s not such a bad thing. there are worse things to be pursuing in these circumstances. i would really like to kiss for such a long time that i stop thinking about us kissing, and i can shut my eyes and think of something good, like my bedroom in december. everyday i think of talking to [redacted], but it’s not my turn yet. it’s good for me to stay away, maybe just for another week. we can’t do it yet. i won’t fuck her over the phone. i won’t end our worship like that. i’ll come when she wants. i’ll be waiting here. she knows that i can’t go anywhere. that’s maybe worse. i wish i was with her and i wish we were in love, but i’m past it. i’m knee-deep in otherness, and it’s sticky and dark and affectionate, and all that stuff i thought was bad before is now the good bit; i miss excusing our arguing as disagreement and breathing into her face after eating garlic on her floor and feeling dirty after being mean with her, and i miss all the foreboding that never arrived. now i feel like a shrew, and a man-whore without her. i miss her, and i wish she would call so she’d put me out of my misery and into something more serious and beautiful

i haven’t had sport yet today. i still have another hour and a half until i’m back in that gym, sweating my ass off, trying to get [redacted] to look at me so that i can make up my mind. but it’s made; i like him a lot. it’s bizarre i think because it’s normal; it is how they say it happens. i don’t know what to do about that. i probably won’t do anything. i would like his phone number, or his home address so i can send him letters from australia. i’m going to think about him forever. probably not, but it’s the kind of thing where i’d like him to message me in twenty years to ask if i’m still living in australia, because he’d love to visit and catch up with me. how do i make him want me in two months?

one month gone

september 29th, 2024

we watched the second beetlejuice movie at the cinema today, and i missed my mum a lot. i went with my host mum and sister, and my host mum’s best friend and her daughter. i sat alone and walked alone after, and i stayed to my side of the car. i am struggling with not feeling impressive, although a little less than i thought i would. it only hurts when i think about it, which is a shame, because i end up thinking about it a lot. tomorrow school starts again, and that might kill me, although always it doesn’t. always i think, “i can’t get out of bed,” and then i do, and then i think, “i can’t wash my face and get ready,” and then i do that, then “i can’t survive school today,” and then i come home, and suddenly the day i didn’t think i could handle is over, and then the week. and then, on and on. does it ever stop feeling like this? like a simulated version of reality? i am trying to get my hands on the map of my life so that i can destroy it and build a new one, but no matter what, i just keep on feeling like i’m on a path that has already been walked by me. my choices all corner me, and they all have ridiculous faces that scare me in the middle of the night

[redacted] cried tonight at the dinner table, only a couple of tears. i was surprised that she was crying but not surprised that she was crying. she does everything in this house. she receives no praise, no recognition, and her children are completely spoilt. [redacted] in particular. he set her over the edge today. she was already annoyed, i could tell, because [redacted] is going away again (i couldn’t hear if it was a work or leisure thing, but either way it would have bothered her), and she didn’t know about it. she asked if it was a joke. he just said, “no,” and looked back at his food. then [redacted] threw his food at her, and that got her crying. she didn’t eat anything else after that. she didn’t cry much but i could tell she wanted to. i find little boys completely insufferable. i called my parents this morning. i’m more sad than i thought i’d be

turtle

september 28th, 2024

i am never allowed to go to a zoo again

“i miss you”

september 27th, 2024

the words have no capitals, no seriousness or smiliness or anything, really. it’s just a bunch of words that hang in the air there for a bit, and then peel off like wall-paper; i’m curious enough to scratch with my nails but it’s not worth the look on her face

i listen to the same music on repeat and the week is finally over, thank god. there’s nothing to cry about except the good old end of the world, which is still coming, and i’m back here in the same stale manly position; watching the trees move outside, expecting to feel embraced by the world when i step outside, but it’s just the same old cold feeling

almost went crazy today

september 26th, 2024

four hours of straight specialist classes this morning. history was good; i maybe even learnt something valuable. but in specialist biology, i was basically on the verge of crying and leaving the classroom for two hours. the french kids are starting to have their tests, so biology was two hours of me staring at the test papers, so spiralling on my own notebook pages with nothing else to do, i dug myself deeper into the mud. lunch was good today. the food, i mean. it was stew with fries. carbo—something. but again, i felt sad in the afternoon. two hours more of english. i sat there and answered some questions, but mostly i think i just wrote some things in french. then we had a french replacement lesson for the one that was cancelled on tuesday. it was only an hour long. i sat and read more of simone de beauvoir’s autobiography (i need to ask the librarian to extend my borrow time somehow, and i need to start remembering my verbs) and joined in for a little bit in the last fifteen minutes. i sat downstairs for the last hour, tried to get more editing done for my blog but gave up, and just kept writing instead. then played wordle until i had to leave for the bus

it’s really a wonder that i’m feeling okay after almost an entire month of leading an opposite life, but it’s not a wonder, and i also don’t feel okay most of the time. so it’s all relative, and it’s all going well. i’m still looking for a way to make the time hurry up, and a way to make the most of everything without sitting on my own all the time

tribute to you and the dark

september 25th, 2024

have you ever slept, woken all foggy and bright, gone to the mirror and seen the mark the mattress has left on your cheek and think, “it was better when it was dark”? i’m filled with unforsaken longing to sleep, to dream, to wake up and forget, to remember pain, to do something with it, to let the bread grow stale and parasitic in my hand; to feed it to my lover and make her throw it up. i am hungry to be fucked. i am trying to find a home that leaves me alone to breathe, but i worry such things don’t exist outside my visions. i worry i will always feel this strangled, no matter who i meet; who i become; where i go; what i feel for. it’s always been this hard. sometimes it is worse than other days, but it is always this hard. i’d do so much better if you were here with me. i don’t believe that you think of me ever. i don’t believe it could be true you wake up some mornings and wish you’d go to bed with me. you only ever text me when i’m in the cinema, or because i imagine you feel my desperation so much that you can’t bear the loud silence any longer. you never ask me things. you never stay with me. you never say, “you’re so good at loving me”, so i’m trying to be good from a distance instead, except you never call me now. only that one time. you never want to hold my hand, you just tell me how pretty it is, and how much you like to look at it. you never want to be next to me, so maybe you just want to imagine it. well maybe i will start letting them have me, if you can’t stomach it. it feels nice to be wanted. i am turned on by the idea that i turn them on. i will never give up myself if it means losing you. you won’t either. why do we play this game? why do i want you to be angrier at me? because i know you’ll forgive me soon, in a week or two. maybe tomorrow. but that’s the fun of it; the anticipation. the when? when? when? i suffer from that you know nothing about. and to have you back after all of that, well, that’s the long-game. that’s my win; your confusion, your apology, your sudden arrival like an orgasm. except you win when i cave, and try to get you into bed with me again, and i always cave

wait for my mind to catch a break

september 24th, 2024

it is not normal to think so oppositely of everything you believe quite so fast. back and forth, back and forth. always up in air. yesterday, on the bus home i felt so good about my french. then last night at dinner i felt just horrible. i felt like everybody could feel me crawling in my skin. and this morning, everybody wants to speak english with me. but in english, i say one very thing in french, and [redacted] looks at me and says, “your french is so good now.” so now i’m on a high that i know is undeserving. i do not have faith in my ability to communicate about 90% of the time, and i have never felt more insecure or discouraged by the opening of my own mouth. i nearly have a nervous breakdown every time my host mum asks me a question. it’s a completely bizzare way to live, in fear of misunderstanding. i feel it at home in australia, and i think that’s why i can bare this extremety. otherwise, it would not make sense for why i have not completely lost it. but the equation seems to balance itself perfectly. the sensitive and introverted kind that go on exchange are used to feeling alienated and mentally far away from people, so they are prepared in this way; while the highly intuitive keep-pushing maybe-autistic extraverts survive in their own way from this misunderstanding because they don’t really understand it either, or themselves. so they manage to just get through it. i imagine that the person who would react the poorest to the kind of intense rejection and frequent misunderstandings would be somebody who does not know why they are laughing, and cannot characterize the feelings they have. what would i do without a radar that tells me who to stay away from? who to be involved in? who not to smile at? this helps me avoid unnecessary misunderstanding

this morning i banged my arm into a girl who was walking past as i put my bag down underneath my desk. she said “ow”, and i was curious if she felt hurt while sitting down for the rest of the lesson. i also need to fix my “sorry!” reflex, and replace it with “pardon”, but i don’t know how to do this. maybe i will just practice in front of the mirror, and try to keep it in my mind at all times. i need to learn some new things in french. i am writing this in my one hour break, by the way. i have five hours today after my next class, which is maths. yesterday in maths i sat at the back of the class and looked at universities in the edinburgh area. maybe i’ll do something similar again. i wish i didn’t feel so in love with people the moment i was away from them

sixteen

september 23rd, 2024

i turned sixteen today. i wore a bouncy white skirt with two bows that sat on my hips, a light brown tank top, my fox socks, and a white jacket over the top. [redacted] gave me chocolates in the morning before class and i was too stunned to say anything. last night, i braided my hair. it woke up looking very pretty today. amazing reaping the reward. i wore eyeliner to school for the first time since i’ve been here, and i will continue to. i had all bad lessons, but i did things to cheer myself up. in history, i tried to learn. i took notes and was interested. i replied to birthday messages in the break and i didn’t cry. i had biology and didn’t jump out the window. i didn’t look at the clock as to be kind to myself, and the time surprisingly went away much quicker than all the other times i’ve been in that class. lunch was cheesy pasta. i can’t remember what happened or what things i said. [redacted] came back to school today after being away for her mother’s death. in maths, i sat at the back and looked at university options in scotland. then in pe, i bucked up and got some courage. then [redacted] and i played a match. i didn’t tell him it was my birthday, but i have a feeling he wouldn’t have gone easy on me anyway. i’m attracted to him, i can tell now: mostly his niceness, but also his soft boy-ness, his hair and eyes and his height, and the way he looks out for me. he’s funny and passionate and he’s good at everything. and he’s older than me. he’s also untouchable. there’s no way i could make this boy love me in a couple of months

i told you i wouldn’t mope

i will not mope, i promise you that

september 22nd, 2024

it’s officially my day of birth, adelaide time. here there is still seven more hours to go. i’ve felt a bit shit today, really. i lay in bed mostly all morning, looking at my phone. although i went downstairs and had a glass of juice for breakfast, and i wrote in both my journals at the table. i even called my parents, which was nice. i showed them my clothes. i will call them again tomorrow for my birthday. it’s going to make me feel just terrible after, because i will have two more classes to go to until i can go back home and cry. it’s going to be a very long, hard day, but i’m going to try and have fun. i won’t mope, i swear to god. after lunch, we all left the house and went for a long walk in the middle of nowhere. it was nearly two hours we were out for. we crossed through the middle of a paddock with electric fences around. i am so worried that their family dog is going to die while i am here. i think i am more worried about it than them. she is a big dog. she lives outside and her black fur is nearly all grey everywhere on top of her head and her snout. i can’t help but be incredibly emotionally attached to her. i feel like the family knows i am feeling shit. i can’t even be convincing in this language. i walked ahead for most of the walk, and i got hot and sweaty quickly. i have not been drinking enough water. but at some point, we sat down and i ate my clementine and two marshmallows; one pink and one white. i listened to music for the entire walk, too. one taylor swift album and one florence and the machine album. i wish i had more energy, and i didn’t miss home so much. there is nothing i can do to help myself either, not more than i am doing. contrary to my own belief, i have never dwelled in my sadness less than now. i have this charging belief that it’s all going well, and i’m doing the best i can. it’s why i get out of bed in the morning, and i try to talk to people at the cantine, and i try and try and try. i have not given up yet, and i don’t plan to. but it’s impossible to deny how difficult it feels to want this. i’m not denying it anymore

after i drink some water, i’m going to think about things. what a terrible sentence. but it’s true. i think tonight is the night to start meditating again. before my fourth week. it will be over before i know it. tomorrow i’ll be lying here in the same position, counting my lucky stars. hopefully i will also be crying. hopefully i will have had a not bad day

unloading

september 21st, 2024

i want to go home. i feel truly liberated here. i’m desperate to cry. i want to do cool things like this all the time. i want to be so far away from myself that i reach the front door. i want to see my dad. what if i don’t remember all the noises here? and the feelings? it is so easy to see this ending soon, and coming home; feeling so embraced and so loved again. and also feeling like more of an outsider there than i do here. my nothingness makes me something here that i could never have imagined before. i am bethany here, and i wear interesting clothes that are just feminine enough to be considered french. i take the bus and i don’t say anything, and when i do, i make a mess of it. nobody knows a thing about me, except that i call my mum a lot, and that i understand them most of the time when they talk; so they should watch what they say around me. it’s interesting. what if i don’t remember the noises? every long card ride, i keep on thinking; this is it. this is the end. where am i, again? who am i again? why is nobody sleeping in my bed at home? at home? at home? for how long is it home, or is it forever? it’s forever, isn’t it? well. i need to cry, and i need to write something good, and i need to speak more french, and i’m going to regret this. i’m going to miss this. i miss my mum, and i miss my dog, and i want to go home. i feel like i’m floating above the ground here. i need to meditate. i need to cancel my apple tv subscription. i need to settle down about my hatred for all sport. i need to catch my breath and take a walk, and meditate again. i need to fix something. and stop worrying! oh, god. i need to stop calling home. it’s only making this harder. at least i am not in [redacted]’s position. i have nearly been here for a month. it’s my sixteenth birthday in two days. i am not spending it with my family. i am spending it playing badminton and doing maths and hopefully crying while opening my cards after school. i need to be grateful. i need to be clever. i am not a bad person for taking myself in, and not having room for much else. it’s not going to be this way forever. i want to be here

uneventful subject : stress, fed-up

september 20th, 2024

i keep on thinking it’ll be okay. but today i have a hiccup in every breath and my heart isn’t beating right. i just want to cry. i just want to survive, get through it; move on. be better. call my mother. but it’s not right. it doesn’t fit inside me. i’ve tried everything. every angle. i’m doing so well. is this all there is out there? i keep on thinking, “it doesn’t get any better than this” and then, “there has to be something better than this”. there’s so much going on that i think i could implode at any moment, and i really mean that. i have nobody to talk to now. i am on the verge of total panic. i could swallow myself. i have to go slower. what can i do? it’s not like that. it’s just like i’m stuck in the universe and there’s no way to reach something bigger than it or to see outside of it (without turning to drugs, which i won’t), and i think sometimes it is a much sadder thing than it is; the truth. today i wrote in my book, “i am lucky to have this brain. i am lucky. and what if i waste it on something it is confined to?” so how do i break out of my confines, my prison. where is the answer hiding from me? is it hiding or waiting? should i run after it like i say that i will or would i only being chasing after more fear and uncertainty? is it destined for me, like i feel it is, or am i like everyone else? do i also believe in what doesn’t exist to console myself, because at the heart of it, i am more afraid of what my existence doesn’t mean than what it might? am i going to settle before i reach the high-lands? this very last thought is what makes me cry the most

september 19th, 2024

homesickness

september 18th, 2024

nothing new here. sat outside under my wednesday morning tree this morning and sent videos to [redacted] about men here and why i’m confused about liking them; i feel homesick i think. i know i do. i don’t really like going to school here anymore; it takes up all my time. it’s a good distraction, but to think without it, i would shop every day and play with the dog in the backyard and eat at a different bakery each monday morning. after this week ends, four more to go. then two weeks of holidays. then three more weeks. i can do that, i think. maybe not monday, though. i can’t do another seven mondays at school here. that’s a full week taken up by mondays. it was hard to get out of bed this morning: i straightened my hair and it looks bad and i feel like everyone is looking at it. i just remembered i’m on my period, too. fuck that too

i have some time to waste until class. i had a dream last night that i spent a month and a half in france, and then came home for a week, then would need to go back to france for the last month and a half. the dream was set in the week i was at home, and i went to school. it was a dream, so most of it was completely ridiculous, but i remember at some point i went into class to see [redacted] and she didn’t have the time to talk with me; she just dismissed me. when i woke up, it got me really missing her. i could not even spend time with her in my sleep

so much of the time, i spend completely dreading things. then moving on. i spend all of it excited about coming back home, though; at the end of all of this. what kind of things i’ll remember and look back on to think, wow, that was not so bad at all. i have spent some times here in complete dissociation, but it doesn’t worry me too much. there are a few days here and there that i look back on and can’t remember much, aside from how i felt in a very specific moment. oh, god, i know i am having a good time. what is it? i mean, i am listless now. is this an acceptable point to accept myself as “listless”? because what am i doing wrong? if you tell me that i am dwelling too much, i have spent the last three weeks wandering around in disastrous denial, still trying to coax my feelings. i know it is just a rough period, and it will get better, but i miss my mum so much that i have a headache

beautiful outside again today

september 17th, 2024

in the mirror i make jokes about my slippery skin, about how i feel like it might fall off me. on the walk back to your home into your bed, after we saw the moon and it danced for us, we laughed it off; i knew you felt bad. i know you’ve probably forgotten. this body is good as it should be. i have no problems with it now, none so clear that i am worried, like about where to go to when i have no home, because there’s always me under all that skin that is stretching and pulling and has been in this whole life. in this whole life, i have felt fairly small in myself and big in the streets and unable to fit into enough places where i can truly rest. comfortably rest. waking up to myself is a sweet treat now: i’m so happy to see my angles and curves and fuzzy outlines that blur into nothing but the world. and i am skinny now. i fit into all these small places. but i still laugh and laugh and laugh in the mirror. not because it’s really that funny. but because it’s a confusing thing, how i can still feel like this after all the stretching and pulling all my life. it’s easier to pretend like i don’t notice it happening; the separation. between what? i think what i know about my body and how it appears to be to others

i’m writing on the bus again because it’s beautiful. so beautiful to feel it all move away underneath you, like a dress slipping off your hips and you can feel it moving like your own feet on the floor. it’s not sensual anymore, it feels habitual. my days here are measured in bus rides, watching for the sun, hoping it won’t be too foggy to see, and my weeks are measured in filling up my pill container. as i’m writing this, the sun has just come up, everyone’s trying to look at it. i hope to see it again after we get out of this next town. all the houses hide it. it doesn’t make our skin hot when it’s this far away, and this early in the morning. it still has so much height to gain

physical education

september 16th, 2024

today i ate lunch with the girl who came up to me while i was at the library, and we spoke some french and got to know each other. she was really, extroadinarily nice, so i don’t understand what’s wrong with me that i was excited to be alone afterward. it’s not unusual, but i really didn’t think i was in need of such a moment of introvertism. i got my laptop today though, so i am going to try and work on getting used to the keyboard. i hated all my classes today, and i know i act like a child when i talk about sport, which is part of the reason why i never do, but also because i can’t ever be good at it, and it is one of those things that other people (everyone else in the world but me) have no problem being great at. c’est pas grave, and i know that so i should stop complaining; but it makes me feel entirely on my own. needing to downplay myself in front of others because i don’t want them to think i’m not self-aware enough to know i’m bad at sport is dull, and it hurts not only my ego but my opinion of myself. i like moving my body, but not in a two hour class at school designed for my efforts to be rated and graded. thinking about how next monday is my birthday, and i have nothing at school to look forward to, makes me feel pretty down actually. i’m proud of myself for doing what i’ve done today in an effort to just get through it, but shouldn’t i be allowed to drop this class if it means instead, i can walk around town and buy my host family some flowers before the bus ride home? i really need some courage before i skip this class for the first time next week. god, i hope it’s cancelled or something. on the bus home, i talked to [redacted] who just landed in germany. we just texted, but it’s so good; i miss her. i bought a pizza from the bakery on the way home, and ate it in my room

the horrible other

september 15th, 2024

there is so much more trying to spend the time here than i thought there would be, because i’m so busy already. there’s no time for anything. but still i lie around and feel bad about it. it’s all very strange, not quite real, like i’m just playing the game to satisfy myself, but there are no rules. i think that’s another thing. i don’t really know what to do. i’m here now, and so what? i’m good with it, and myself, but not with the boundaries. i follow around my own shadow sometimes, and it’s unnecessary. my shower was nice. i’m clean now, and lying in bed waiting for this period to start. it won’t come until tomorrow, i’m sure of it. it’s nice to wait for a real reason, though. and this period might crack down hard on me, i have that suspicion of almost a hazy blindness, where you don’t want to open your eyes because it’s too underwhelming, but closing them makes you seem helpless. at least i’ll be able to suck my thumb in the gymnasium tomorrow and complain about mal au ventre… and hopefully the time will fill itself. hopefully there will be more things to enjoy. there’s still a tomorrow and a yesterday, and that means the horrible other is not going to dawn on me yet. when she does, you’ll know

i miss it because it was easy

september 14th, 2024

still there’s no reason greater than that, for me going home. easy is an inexplicit word choice. i guess i mean that it was natural. that’s just how it goes, i guess, and people feel that forever. where they were born and grew up gives them the same kind of feeling their childhood gave them. i’ve been lucky enough to have a happy one. australia is easy. it’s default. it’s moping around in the heat and hoping there’s the best kind of ice cream still left in the freezer from last summer. it’s just a feeling. i’ve known forever that i love it here, that i might belong here, into the mirror’s imposter : the intimate reflection, the darkening abyss posing as a naked lover, the whatever-europe-is. i know this is a feeling, too. it is a harder, more complicated, dense feeling. imagine it like a fist in the ears, doing nothing. just there. maybe threatening a headache, but never. never. and all of it is so good. aside from the noise. the big aches and wanting. but it’s what i wanted at home anyway. to give my reflection a break, to eat the shard. i’m yet to lose sight of the abyss, but swallowing is easy. i’ve wanted this forever

look now!

september 13th, 2024

there are just some things that only happen in europe. my classes today were good. i am so tired by lunch-time, and the last lesson i have is two hours long. it is almost torturous. but i entertain myself, and i always come home at the end of the day, to write and eat dinner and smile at the family dog through the glass back-door by the kitchen table. she wishes she was inside with us. this dog has more longing than me. it’s like a competition. who can whimper first loud enough that we will be let inside? except i’m already here, locked up and sweating through outfits, and i have no voice, no words to whine with. she can whine and whine all she wants, but will never allow herself to ruin their house, even if she was let inside. therefore, she has probably the worst fate. the days are flying by. the document i write in before moving these to the archive, i start with all the months and days of the year, of course emptied at first. i remember waking up on the first of september, on the sunday, and thinking how long it would be until i had filled september. look now!

some things that happened today: the eleven-year-old girl sat on the bus home with me today and she told me some words in spanish, she told me to go through the colours in french and she’d reply with the word in spanish. i said, “rouge”, and she said “rojo”, then i said “violette”, and she said “violeta”, then i said “blanche”, and she said “blanco”, then i said “jaune”, and she said, scrunching up her nose and laughing all nervous now, “je connais pas celui-là…” when she got off the bus she tapped my window from the outside as she walked past, and waved goodbye at me. when i came home, [redacted] was loitering in my room and delivered me my package from my parents (which was waiting underneath my pillow). there it was! my wonderful beautiful travelxcard, which means i am now a certified rich person. then me and [redacted] played for probably a lifetime, and i helped her with her homework—not really, i just sat there—and then we organized the costumes we’re wearing for halloween, because i’m going to be here during halloween. i didn’t even know the french did halloween, but i’m happy to participate if it’s true. i sat downstairs and started reading nadja by andré breton

jeudi, i hope the morning drags on and on

september 12th, 2024

my heart is filled with so much longing for these strangers. i wish i were a mother in her warm car dropping my french kids off to the bus-stop, waving at the bus driver like they know each other. i wish i were the the fat old woman in the open red window each morning, folding her washing over the tree branch that must hit against her roof every storm, sparing a glance to us kids. i wish i were really here, and this wasn’t just like fostering a dream. it’s only the morning. i’ve got the day stretching out in front of me, and i always want to write on the bus because it’s magical here. everyone’s starting up, and so is the rest of the world; the sun is different. it’s orange, naked and blistering, full and completely beautiful, you can look into it’s eyes when it rises, and everybody puts down their hands to pray to it when it hits their faces

“maman died today, or…”

september 11th, 2024

there is a girl in the group i’ve made friends with who’s mum died last night, or maybe early this morning. according to [redacted], who has known her, i’m sure, for a very long time, her mum had been sick for a while with something that i couldn’t quite catch the name of. anyway. to hear about it stirred me enough that i called my own mum. it was a particularly gloomy morning already, too, and i was sitting in the student lounge area waiting for class to start, and flipping through pages of the stranger. my mum is sick too, but just with a cold, and she reminded me i have nothing to worry about; she is not going to die from this. i can’t remember what happened today. i stay in my room after school lately, and i know i should come out for more than just the hour surrounding and following dinner, but it’s the only time in the world that i have when it’s there, which is… always, i guess. still. i’m not depressed! all things are good, particularly now, and i am not missing home at all, only in little brief flashes

it’s cold here, i have nobody

september 10th, 2024

it’s already getting cold here. but not the kind of cold it is at home. it’s a brash and invasive cold, this one, and it stays on your skin. just like the heat did last week. i almost don’t believe how quick the change occurred. the bus this morning was so nice, and the mornings here have been especially peaceful since i arrived. no kids in the morning, and i hit the buzzer on my alarm at 6:10, swallow my meds noisily after i turn on the floor-lamp by the desk, stumble to the bathroom after shuffling into my hoodie and socks, and i clean my face well. scrub it and polish it with nice, new moisturizer and try not to freight about my face wash running out. and i don’t rinse the toothpaste out. then i change into my clothes in my room, and today they’re particularly cozy; my blue-turquoise wool sweater, with a nice floppy collar and big wide arms, and my comfy jeans, and the nike flats i’ve had since i was twelve. i rub oil into my hair and today, put it into a bun at the back of my head, and then i do my makeup. i put all my things into my leather bag and shuffle downstairs, clutching my book (”the stranger”, i decided to start reading it again last night at 1am, and am really enjoying it), my shoes, and my headphones. then i make my breakfast. the kids’ cereal and the strange, thick multifruit juice they always have in the fridge. i go through instagram and pretend to take things in

but the bus is the best part of the morning. the sun begins to properly rise up, then, and it casts not a golden light but a real tangy, angry orange colour all through the bus, and the little dewy tears melt off the window. i read my book on the bus this morning, too. and i listened to songs i might’ve listened to two years ago at a pool party. it’s worth nothing to recount my life, but the more i try and tell you what i’m thinking, the more i feel like i’m suffering, and doing it without realizing. so i’ll settle now for telling you about the morning

about christmas; i’ll be home by then

september 9th, 2024

i spent the day home sick today, waiting for something. i realized that when i was starting my new blue journal. the one i keep my drawings in and keep-sakes in and all my most undeserving ideations. i thought to myself, what am i going to do after this? no, don’t think about it. i have to finish this first. then i thought again and realized, i have nothing to do. i could do anything, and time is in front of me. all of today. so i gathered my items and went downstairs, sat myself down in front of the television and first i called my mum, while i was eating breakfast. i wanted her to know i missed her, but i didn’t end up telling her that. she was out with friends at the pub, and she sounds sick too, but she didn’t tell me that. we both just kind of looked at each other and pouted. then i called [redacted] and i sat back down in bed to charge my phone. i finished painting my nails while she told me about her family, and her dad hurting her, and her little sibling’s insanity, and how things are actually going well. she tells me she wrote “fuck you” in lip-stain on her dad’s study door, but he made her clean it off. i realize this is a story i’ll never have to tell. i think it’s a good story, though, and if it wasn’t so sad why she’d done it, it would’ve been even better. i told her about here, and how things are, and i think i might’ve told her i’m learning things. which is true. i am learning about things. my communication void, and how every day it threatens to open up and swallow me. i talked to [redacted] too later on. but it wasn’t that important. for the rest of the day, i just sat on the couch and watched uptown girls, love, actually and maybe half an episode of a tv show on netflix that i can’t remember the name of. i ate spoon-fulls of honey and the world went quiet for about ten seconds before i asked myself what i was doing there. i wrote for the rest of the afternoon in all my other journals. i’m starting to feel uneasy

forgot to write

september 8th, 2024

today’s been good. i hope my host mum will let me stay home tomorrow

thoughts on exchange

september 7th, 2024

i should give my parents more affection. i should’ve cried when i left them at the airport. i shouldn’t have been annoyed at my mum for worrying. i should’ve crawled into bed with my dad when mum left for the weekend; he loves me just as much. should i flirt back with the boys at school, even though i am not sure about them? will i ever want-want a boy like that? i should call my best friend more. i should tell her to cry more in my arms. i should stop writing; it only ever makes me more prone to longing and seething. but i can feel myself losing self-touch when i don’t pick up a pen. i can’t wait to move away from my hometown. i feel guilty for thinking that. i know i’ll end up in scotland. it’s knowledge, and i cannot help it. i need to return where i was found, and you were lost. i can’t wait to do something big and terrifying with my life. i know i’ll let myself down by thinking like that. nothing is ever as exciting as i dream it to be. except this, and this is small. i still know i’ll be more than i thought was possible. i know i’ll never stop wanting more, but i only want to slow down; to have a child that’s mine, a dog that sleeps at the end of the bed on my toes and a cat that sleeps by my head on my pillow. it would be just us. but i can’t. i can never; i have to keep fighting for myself. all i want is one thing, and another, and then that one great thing in the world; to be a writer. to make something great. to make life worth living. to dive in and forget to leave, to prune and prune and be stuck forever. i never want to be stuck. only in my throat. i should be and be and be i list like a manifest. i am not demonstration. i am piled in the bed, breathing. sometimes looking. normally shutting. what can i do to be worthy of a title outside of myself?

dream

september 6th, 2024

these moments alone with myself mean a lot to me. in the classroom, ten minutes before everybody pours in, finishing my presentation for the other people in my group. i almost forget where i am. i’m here. not dreaming. in france and not dreaming. in a real classroom, with my eyes wide open. i keep saying to the people i call, “it feels like a dream, so i treat it like that, but every time i open my eyes in the morning i’m still here,” and it makes it sound like a nightmare. but it’s not like that. i think i might just be unsettled still. how should i fill in the time after school? i’ve been coloring in and feeling sick. i’ve been trying to journal every day, but it’s hard to be excited recounting my days. i know that’s what i’ll want to read about in fifty years, though. what will the girl in ten years need when she’s trying to compile her journal entries and send them to a publisher? it’s hard trying to please all the future versions of me

seasonal

september 5th, 2024

i’m going to sleep so well tonight. i’m getting sick; my throat itches a little more every morning and i sneeze every chance i get. i don’t know how to say, “i think my sickness is seasonal, because of the change in climate,” in french. i wish you could see what im seeing. my bedroom window looks out on fields on fields on the world in our world, and the boy i kissed today is somewhere also down the street. the boy who kissed me who grabbed my chin and texted me later to ask if i liked it. he’s somewhere down the road. my best friend is where i hope to leave her, tucked up in bed at 4am in the morning. i’m going to sleep so well tonight

fantastic news about being happy

september 4th, 2024

it’s funny, because i always said i wanted to write. when things get bad, i turn to it. when they are good, i resist it. the writing becomes over-personal, and too descriptive. the order of a writer’s nature is in some way disrupted by their happiness. it becomes less like art, and more like a sculpture. how real should it be before they sense the fear? i wonder, when i am scribbling my silly poems into school books on my bedroom floor. and i forget that fear is what they all want. they want to say, how long can it last like this, before it’s tacky and unrealistic? i want there to never be a time when my fantastical ideas become “tacky”. i am still figuring out the differences between irrational and abstract things in my own writing. i don’t know which i tend more towards, but i’d like to think abstraction. surely every great writer did/does? aside from bulgakov, he had mastered both in a blender

i don’t believe in wasting time, but am i wasting mine?

september 3rd, 2024

i read something terrifying today that said if you spent four hours daily on your phone, that it’s fourteen years of your life. it makes me want to die, honestly, to think how much time i’ve wasted. then i think, is any of it wasted? up to this point, no. the time i spend is all spent anyway. some day i might look back and wish i had spent the time differently, drawing and writing and doing real things with my hands, but i am doing enough already. i am trying just like anybody is

september 2nd, 2024

i’m a living gallery; my body is my art

september 1st, 2024

the title is a line from a short film i just finished watching called “affairs of the art”. tomorrow school starts, and tomorrow i decide what exchange will be for me; a social experiment, a grand challenge to take upon myself and revel in the excitement of newness, or completely terrifying, a time to cower at anyone who tries to speak to me and cry each day on the way to school. writing this alone makes me remember what a thing it is to have a psyche and developed awareness. i can decide now. it’s possible that i can decide to wake up early and prepare, to rock up to the bus-stop on time but with headphones in and an outfit violation, and i can smile at the person i want to befriend. i can make my way to school slowly after, and apologize if i’m late, and sit at the back. this is not a challenge, to do all the things i want to do. i’m good at that. i’ve learnt how to slot it all in. people are the challenge. they always have been. so what if i manage to fit myself inside this 9 hour window of education and make it out alive if i don’t have a single friend to call my friend? everybody says i will make friends easily, no problem, before i know it, but i don’t know—i really hope it’s the truth. more than anything, i want a friend