January & February, 2025

polluted and the pure

february 28th, 2025

reading so much philosophy has taken it’s toll on me; i am confused! it’s brilliant, right? i have no need for silly gambits and i know it will all happen to me again, in continuity, in large-scale love and affection, and if you lose your memory; it’s okay. i’m right here to remind you. i always remember. i would like someone to notice that eventually, but i’d like this someone as i call it, to notice many things. like i have said so many times before, i am ready. i can engage with what i cannot touch; let me believe anyway. i like it this way, i assure you. the discomfort only balances me out more. i am a libra, after all; i am the weights, i am the scale, i am the ball and chain, i am the forest and it’s floor, the polluted and the pure. i am always saying what i am, but the real amazing truth of it; i’d rather you had a go every once in a while making sense of me. i’m out on display for a reason, you know. i’d rather write all these things for a reason, you know. i don’t play games with words; they play me. really, it’s me, the instrument; the writing goes on with or without me. i know that now. but i’d rather portion and purge my soul for a reason, you know. i make room for two in the bed, you know, so i’m sorry i kick. i’m sorry to be so slow; please let me catch up, please let me bandage you. please do not cry; i don’t expect you to, so don’t take me by surprise. fit right in like a slot, let it happen, let it be here; i’ll just be here lying here, waiting and listening to the noise, and god it’s so on the nose, don’t you think? i’m so busy waiting for that slight wag of the tail, bend of the knees : i am ready, i can take it

i must i must i must

february 27th, 2025

must not cry. must not lose the plot. must not waste the day. oh, it’s tiring! must not blow a fuse at the organizer of life. must not sweat. must look beautiful. must eat and rest enough. must not think of you. must think of him as he is here now. must be charming. must arrive. must not be simple-minded. must send the angry email without anger. must not think of how the angry email comes across; must let it have been sent. must remember i am good at my job. must take a break so i am ready to take a break. must reapply my lipstick; must not prove their point

must speak at better times. must be funny and smart and kind and daring and eager and gentle and patient and ecstatic and bold. must be all the things and none of the things and balance those things; i am getting better at balancing those things, aren’t i? doesn’t it matter? cannot fall into that hole. must not fall into that hole, or i will not get out. must continue choosing the means to be alive, must not look for the matter; will never find it

i am trying not to kill as many ants

february 26th, 2025

if you asked me, “is she happy?” i would not know what to say. i am both very nervous and very good at what i do. as i write, i am spending lunch in the park meditating on my sandwich. i am spending ten minutes imagining what it will taste like, thinking about how it feels to chew, remembering the work that went into it, only for my appetite. you see, i don’t actually think anything is for me. i saw something the other day, it was like; every piece of fruit you’ve ever eaten was meant for you from the moment it’s seed was planted. yes, i don’t agree. i think that’s anthropocentric. it’s simply here as i am simply here; it’s my dumb luck and geographical location that allows me to have it, to hold it, to want it. like! yeah. and so i’m not cured from anything, because there’s not really anything i’m suffering from except myself. i am a very lucky girl with a best friend who wants to make sure i am happy with her, and i have a mother who goes to yoga with me, i have a home i sleep in and two nice dogs i get to walk each morning; i get to cry, and for that i’m so grateful. i get to sit at the park alone and meditate on my sandwich and feel the arch in my back strain less, and less, until eventually there is no pain anymore at all. for existing i am so grateful

but yes, i would not know what to say. if you asked me was i happy, i’d probably turn away, and i’d probably be okay to say yes, i’m happy. because i am, sort of. always, i’m sort of happy. and then i remember, and i remember, and i recall times i have been horrible and in love and mortified and worried i’d die and that others would fall ill; that was not happiness but that is part of me. that is not as behind as i believe it to be. i hope and hope it is, but it just sits there. the blades of grass stuck up through the throat of my laptop and it’s legs rest against my shins; me and the face make eye-contact and i am sure i have probably not looked at anything as passionately as i look at what words i am writing

midday reset

february 25th, 2025

[redacted] and i are going to dinner tonight! i’m in french and still have ess after school for another two hours, but after that, i’m taking the bus up and we are going to an asian restaurant we once ate at and pretended to be other people; we had a loud conversation about our lifestyles and things we thought might happen to the sort of people we were acting out

today we watched a ted-talk about a woman talking about “local” versus “national”, and she described what constitutes her personal identity in terms of place in three factors: rituals relationships, restrictions. my rituals are my mornings and evenings, visiting my bookstore and doing things i love like writing and listening to audiobooks. my relationships to my family and to [redacted] make up the greater part of my identity, but also those previous; they were places i used to visit. my restrictions are limitless, but here i am anyway and i still have many places i belong to and which i hold close to me

i’m terrified of becoming a boring person; i’m trying to just keep going so that one day i get to the end of it and see all of the experience as a trail behind me. i hope it is very exciting

compromise

february 24th, 2025

i’ve been enjoying stretching and meditating in the morning; after doing one, i am inspired to do the other, it’s like a trigger or domino effect, a push-pull. one door opens, and so does the other, and then i want to journal. and then i never want to do school again! but i do. i sort of love it. i sort of love the feeling of putting on my uniform and doing the things to look after myself and get through the day and i love arriving and wondering if it’s special to be this age and i love looking at everybody else who has also lugged themselves to school, too. i love the vigor, i hate the fact it must run out

nothing after school today, which is fantastic. i’m already brainstorming. i’ve got ess homework and a french assignment but that’s it, and after it’s over, i’m a free woman. maybe i’ll even climb into bed early and rub my feet together under my quilt and a blanket whilst playing the sims 4. maybe i’ll write. maybe i’ll think of something. there are endless possibilities of an after-school climax. a bath? oh, god. and tomorrow, i am looking forward to. although, i think the thing i am most upset about is when i do not look forward to things i have planned, that i said yes to because once-upon-a-time i was really so excited to have made it work. i always try to catch the fever before it takes me, and remind myself i wanted it once; there’s a part of me that still is holding onto it

still feel horrible

february 23rd, 2025

oh my goodness! i am wrecked. i’ve been to the sri-lankan food festival today with my family and that’s the highlight — no homework done. do you ever have a day where you just feel so sorry for every other version of you that’s waiting for you to get up, to be like them and be better and smarter and more excited about life? i’m already dreading tomorrow, and i know i will be disappointed by my efforts today. how can i be hungover from a hangover?

i hope they forgive me

february 22nd, 2025

what should i tell you about last night? last night i threw up in the uber home and [redacted] stripped me down and put me in her shower! last night i cried in front of everybody

i tell stories about how the time goes by fast but really it doesn’t. like, really it is just as it’s always been. today i am so hungover that i can’t think of what i’d say if i ran into someone i knew on the street. so hard to speak to people with words today. yes it’s hard to do this every day, but then at the same time i realise how difficult it is to do anything but what i do. i just do the things that i have to, and the rest of the time i am all the things i think of being when i can’t because i don’t have the time. i am like the applause at the end of a live recording. i’m not amazingly happy but i got out of bed more than once and did everything i needed to, got my homework done at the bookstore and was approached by somebody who makes art, wrongfully mistaking me for an artist but i laughed and said yes i am through a massive mouthful of teeth. i just remember last night being called that awful word and leaving the shed with my tail between my legs and a big pressure to make someone smile, so i cried and cried

last night was such a mess. i hope they forgive me

dude we are so back

february 21st, 2025

week’s over. half-failed my maths test today and i interrupted every classroom i walked into with my questions; who knows how i could lessen that burden? surely i’m helping somebody. just on the bus back now from the city, went with [redacted] to the library and then to my bookstore. did some homework, but very slim amount. going to the party tonight and am in a rush! wearing bali crochet top from three years ago and white skirt, i hope i drink a lot

well-being night

february 20th, 2025

my night of well-being after whatever the fuck yesterday was. i am doing no homework and watching fleabag on the couch with my mum tonight. after ess, mum and i went to yoga. we sat upright and clicked our spines into place and after breathing in we each let out an ommmmmm…. into the room, and listened to the silence in the room after. it felt so nice whilst i was there, but i knew i’d laugh if anybody my own age was there; it felt abrasive, and i actually felt spiritually aligned in that room. i hate the flow of my thoughts today, though, they are disruptive and existential

i am trying to get my shit together, and today was a real nice attempt at that. i am learning to apply the knowledge i have rather than just have it

what a fucked up day!

february 19th, 2025

i am so angry! not anymore. i knew it would be one of those days. i am so stressed about where i will be, as i always am. i’m so tired of saying everything as if it doesn’t really mean much to anybody else, but it should. i want to be the best. i can be the best. i can be in spaces where i’m doing the most and surprise myself often. i want to be on top of the world. i just don’t think it’s a silly thing to say until i say it out loud that i am worried i won’t get everything i want. externally, i feel safe to know i know nothing. internally, it has to all be true. like when i’m walking the dogs in the morning and i’m listening to the video with the man who tells me how to be perfect, like maybe it’s actually going in and i’m listening and i will be this, do this, conquer that. when has it ever been the case? always! right? so, my day started with existential crisis, and i crashed out like three times, and i lied because i’m a massive liar. i said the right thing and i still crashed out! mum picked me up and i cried for so long in the car and she finally asked me, i told her it’d make me feel like i failed if i didn’t go into french. well, that wasn’t true. i came home. by writing this, i am disrupting my five hour homework grind. all ess and maths; it’s very fucked up, right? i have been crying all day. i chose not to go to french after school to look after myself but here i am. i have been fighting tiredness and shutting my eyes all day. i have been unfocused all day and gaslit my own motivations. but it’s not over yet. it feels like it should be. it’s not over til it’s fucking over!! like, til i have everything i want and i’m safe in bed on the other side of the world. still, i can’t wait to fall asleep tonight. i know that when i’m finally asleep tonight, it’ll be quick and easy and done. i can’t wait to fall asleep tonight

absolute apartment complex

february 18th, 2025

i love feeling like i have it all down. everybody does, but nobody talks about it. i love feeling like i could have anything i wanted if i just fucking asked for it, because everybody could except nobody is brave enough. am i on a mission to know what people are dying to ask for? like, it’s always so simple. much more simple than asking the question, “what do you want?” it’s actually an uninteresting sort of answer most of the time; a big apartment. a university admission. a hug from my friend. a book i actually want to read. a foot rest under the desk. like they are allowed to be big things, but they are all small answers. nobody really wants love, or to meditate on their envy, or to receive meaning packaged and delivered from a higher consciousness. nobody wants that, they just kind of look and admire and turn it around in their hands. want isn’t carnal, i’m not that hungry

back to my day and why this connects to anything. i’m doing a very good job at taking shots at the target. i started off slow and my hits were on the outer, but i’m making my way to the inner circle now. i just want a bullseye shot at life, and that starts every day. it’s miserable sometimes and other days it’s okay, and either way it’s fine. i just have to get it done, because i want to get a good education. i want to have my own place. i want to leave home while i’m young. i want to need to make it work. i want to be forced into my dream

but we push through

february 17th, 2025

unbelievably tired. waiting for an opportunity to slip away and fall asleep someplace uncontrollably; won’t happen. i miss my people. i’ve got my frees! two late mornings this week, so excellent. party on friday and am not thinking about it so much, but also feeling excited about being with people and drinking and talking. is this healing? anyway. so tired. don’t know how i will make it through the week

love is motivational

february 16th, 2025

it’s very hard to find purposeful aliveness, and i know that purpose does not always need to mean productive but i find it helpful when it does. when i decide my purpose is meditative awareness, i commit and it’s a beautiful thing. when i see that i have shifted in the day’s matter and today the purpose is love, i am just about ready to drown in the bathtub. because so what if i love him? so what if he loves me? so what if we are approaching each other hesitantly and hopefully? i cannot do much else except be ready to present myself and say as delicately and curiously, “it’s time now.” because, oh my god, it’s time now. it’s time to get over the world and just throw myself into the jaws of the hungriest animal i can find, and a good one, too. one that stays close and smiles at my evidence of self

would it be so bad if we were to play around? if i lost my shoe would he pick it up for me and put it back on? if i had to get home at midnight would he drive me? if i wanted him to just sit around afterward and tell me he really did like me, wouldn’t that be fine?

i do not want this to be about a boy! it’s not, really. the purpose is love. i hope i’m being clear enough. who plays a role but it’s only enough to inspire me, but love motivates the cause. and that’s destructive! i cannot sit at home and ponder over whether to talk with him before our two hours in the week together, or i will very much go mad. i can’t ponder over whether or not this means anything or if it’s just a manifestation of greed, envy, and restlessness, because i am scared that it is. i have to act without thinking like i used to, can’t i do that? oh, you know. i’m worried nothing good will come of me putting myself out there, and how will we even bear the sight of each other if it actually doesn’t?

do not wish time away

february 15th, 2025

this morning i had five or ten minutes of brief euphoria, after my breathing meditation. i was overcome with clarity and personality. i think it could be the best feeling in the world. it was sort of like after sex, lying down in the dark and breathing until you fall asleep and you have no dreams, no movements, just pleasure. maybe it’s the adrenaline, but it feels unbelievably logical. i spent the euphoria journaling and being kind to my family. i was so sad when i felt the feeling leave, and i was left alone doing homework. mostly because i could begin to hear myself again. the little place where the euphoria used to be was now saying loser, loser, loser just like you heard it and i can’t figure out it’s relevance. i don’t have to. my future does not wait, and today has been a series of emotional revelations followed by disappointment. i’m so sad to not have the capacity to be content with how things are right now; neutrality should not be so hard to achieve either. it’s like disquiet is etched into my soul

valentine’s day and i am not alone

february 14th, 2025

who can say what will mean anything for us? but i know temples are evidence of things, like how when they bang together they make music, they sigh together and we are so unapologetic about ourselves. i cannot say more than i have said; im not alone. i write three letters and i know you love me. i write a fourth and this one is just for you, and you won’t cry because you never do. you’ll just listen to your music and grow old on the bus; i love you!

do not get so old you forget i love your name, i loved and will love and this is more than enough, its all in the air. it means we are here, we have chosen this simple hardship; it’s nothing so it’s everything. totally ours! is that our definition? who can tell? on the ride home i watch all the couples drink their glasses of wine and watch each other easily out the front of their expensive but sleepy restaurants, and i am so happy we had ours behind a nail salon in a car park

we have synergy

february 13th, 2025

oh wow, they are killing me. i breathe the air you breathe into me, my voice is heard through your voice, this is not my life but ours. we are tiny systems like my own, the kissing of my knees to open the circle, to close is to wash them with the bath water. i laugh hysterically at my first black hair sprouting up by my belly button, i laugh harder into my hands because they have cracks and i am young. they have always had these cracks. i laugh because it is just the wall. pretty soon i am not laughing, because the joke is a concept i can’t explain, it’s interpretation! and that’s the joke. have you ever tried explaining a concept to somebody who couldn’t care less what’s behind your eyes? that’s our whole life, and it is such a good day to take a bath; i almost forgot what it was like. i scrub and scrub with bergamot

there’s kindness but i know i’m looking for it. there’s goodness but i know i’m listening for it. there’s brutality and i know i’m finding it, but there’s no violence in me. not at all, if you’re with me so close to my spine. if you see me gnashing my teeth i am biting back tears, i am not grinning to show you how easy it is; don’t come for me, come with me. i asked for company, not a dog. but i love her. i miss when she slept in my room and i’d feel her pressing against my calf at night. i am the skin you gave to me. i am the flesh you fed to me. i am not cold, i am sensual. it’s all touch, there is no separation between the object and the eye when the object is a life sentence. i am warmth like the food i eat, the roof of the place they will not let me go into—i watch and i spin such a blade as i eat the dust. i wait for help! there is no simplicity in this, and this is not a scrap. this is my life, but it could be ours

do you want to dance with me, baby?

february 12th, 2025

it’s still the morning here, and i am waiting for mum to get home from the gym to take me to school. we are going to get a coffee first. in my meditation this morning, i had to think of a moment within the last week in which i felt truly happy, and the first thing that came to mind was when i lay down on my belly on the carpet and put little green by joni mitchell on repeat whilst i journaled about the future, and i sipped a glass of red wine. very specifically this moment. it’s inspiring; i could do that all the time. i could try to. i am having difficulty carving out time for myself to be happy without other people, which is a new thing. it seems like every moment i get alone i spend planning, doing homework, or distracted with social media. it’s not entirely true; i make time to meditate and write these entries, but it seems less than i am used to

some mornings i am so full of things to say, it’s like all i can do is deliver. those mornings i twirl in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal and i brush my teeth after my shower, i don’t even think twice about what i have to do; i just look up and it’s done. today i feel unprepared, and behind in life! the exclamation mark is to stress just how ridiculous it is to admit that. and every time i tell somebody, i am met with the same ridicule, and the same global honesty. you’re young, don’t worry which not so secretly means i am old and it’s not worth it to worry like you do; i remember but i cannot acknowledge. i acknowledge but i cannot remember. there’s nothing better to say than that, and so i guess that does sort of hurt in it’s own right. i have a simple crush on a guy in my french class. that does sort of hurt in it’s own right

my dogs

february 11th, 2025

i felt so sad today when i looked into the mirror for a third time and my dog was sleeping outside my doorway. because he has never looked at himself, not that he can remember. rory always used to look, but now she doesn’t really know what she’s looking at. coffee’s never spent a second wondering about his reflection, and certainly not a second or third time has he ever looked at himself

you’re where you’re meant to be

february 10th, 2025

i’m just not sure. i’m sure when i’m glancing up the street with the best halloween lollies, and i’m sure when i’m pulling up my socks, digging around for the edge which has been lost in a boot, i’m sure when i’m asking myself, how many times have i walked this same route? i’m pretty sure of myself. it’s not like i always have my own eyes on myself, wondering if i am doing the right thing, going the right way, but i sometimes think i am in danger of rolling my ankle if i’m not always looking at my feet, like if i look up for second and enjoy the view yes, it will be beautiful, but i will lose sight of the last pavement i walked and it was such a good rhythm, it was such a nice ease on the mind when i was counting

today was lazy and long. i feel like i am burning every day! working harder than lots of people, and it feels rare. it feels kind of clever and necessary to be there, to be on the side and weaving in-between. then it also feels lonely. it feels like i have no capacity to extend a hand, but i do anyway. so much it feels! that’s not all i want this to be. i want to tell you what is. and it is truly all okay; i mean that. mum’s home from the beach and i looked different today, in a good way. i sat at the bench and talked to her as she hemmed my skirt and dress, and i did my homework and whispered tasks out loud, checked them off. i also walked the dogs this morning and woke up later than usual. i noticed the warmth around my belly and squinted my eyes. i was going to read all the books in the world, but decided to write instead. it’s a good day to be here, even though there’s another one coming and i will forget this one. i remind myself “you will remember what needs to be remembered” so often lately

are you bored?

february 9th, 2025

[redacted] and i watched the entire to all the boys i’ve loved before series just this morning. there was no chance of completing a single intellectual activity after that venture. she left at mid-day and i’ve been slumming it ever since. my eyes are all tired and i can hardly think of a single thing which would make me feel better aside from having my motivations clear; i want to be incredible enough to be honest. if everything i say is dipped in feeling and baked in prose, am still i being honest? yes. because it comes to me that way. i probably write with the most boldness when i’ve had something to drink, and that must be a realization amongst most artists who are consumed by drink. i won’t be that. i promise, i won’t. i’ll be sensible. dad asked me, “are you bored?” i was scrolling on my phone on the bed; i need to get that habit under control again. he just stood in the doorway and i told him, “i’m all good.” i pretty much am. but part of me is bored. because i am uninspired to make things. i honestly wish i was doing something every minute of the day i was excited about, but i guess that’s unrealistic. isn’t it aspirational in a sense? can’t it be my reality? if i am upset, i am excited, but today i am nothing but a random couple of very neutral things. today i am no fun, but i am still good

loose ends by imogen heep

february 8th, 2025

i read the introduction to simone de beauvoir’s force of circumstance this morning on the bus home from writers club and feel so lucky to be young; it’s so dreadful watching yourself age and i am just thankful to be lovely right now. i tell myself, “i am thankful for this,” on the street as the old man smiles and the rubbish appears, the city roars, the phone in my hand buzzes, and the heroin addict limps across the street. but then i think how good it will be getting older. the age is the worst of it, the loss of appearance. you don’t look like yourself one day. that’s horrible. but today i am grateful that’s all over now, and everything that exists will die with me. i am perpetual to my own standards

i added more renoir cut-outs to my wall and put up the band prints around my fireplace, moved my mum’s artwork to my wardrobe door. it’s nicer in here, less empty, and then i think i could add more, do more, have it be too gigantic to take down one day. yeah, i know. i know it’s a while away. then again, it’s also closer every day. stripping the walls, packing up my books. hope’s done, answer’s arrived. which is what i want, i think. i don’t want an answer, i just want the feeling of having one. that’s life, then it’s over. i’m feeling a bit stuck, like all the things i’m saying yes to aren’t getting me anywhere, that i wanted not that long ago. all those things i am inspired about are suddenly not the only thing i want to live for, but what else? love isn’t enough, and that’s all feeling. there’s no practicality in emotion, season, or reality’s general animosity. fantasy is more malleable, but i am losing it too; it’s not complying. i am forgetting what i was thinking, where i want to be; why did i want it?

i think of you often, and i love you

february 7th, 2025

everything is so right in the world when me and [redacted] are together. unexplainable fortunes land right on our shoulders, like a hundred dollars and an apartment with a view, and it’s never ever rotten timing. how could it be? we are constantly doing things in a way i’m not even consciously aware of most of the time, it’s just natural. needing to sit down, needing to be gone. leaving things behind, clutching hands on the way. there’s so much excitement in being half-dead when we’re alive together. the magic is in the words; i feel that way. it’s funny to go back now and see all the bad things that have happened and how i always need her the most when it goes down. she is my person, and i am very happy to grow up with her. i was thinking about it today, in the bathroom in the morning, how i’m so lucky to have her be the person who most understands things i’ll say when we’re older because she just knew what it was like when it was childhood, like this. it’s just good, today was just good. i didn’t feel silly in front of everybody, even when i spun around and got a headache. that was just me

advice or ear

february 6th, 2025

the fish tank in the school looks grim and dirty. today i cried about my egocentric tendencies in an empty classroom for the second-half of lunch and [redacted] gave me the last watermelon lollipop in her desk drawer. she says i am gifted, and i tell her i am the dumbest in my class. i struggle holding conversations about nothing all day without interrupting to add something i believe truly is extraordinary. i hand in a leadership form in the middle of a lesson and i hope they let me do it; i will tell the truth. there is so much pressure to be good. she tells me, “it will be good,” and i say, “i want to be good now”

i wanted to tell you much more than this. i wanted to tell you about the fear of the string that’s following behind me, it’s like a trail of absolute nonsense; i have done nothing to deserve this, good or bad, i have no path but the one i walk on and here it is in front of me anyway, foot by ear, taste by touch, being by owning, totality by the drop of a hat. i wanted to unfold or wane like the moon, i asked for this, to shrink to grow to fathom to waste, i asked to be a person and so i went after it. i chased it like a dog under a fantasy under a tree in the park in the place we already walked because we were maybe always meant to, but that’s nothing. i am here and i want to be good now

doing everything

february 5th, 2025

busiest day in history. woke up semi-early and did my ess homework before school, had my classes, was shipped off to alliance française for two hours, did maths tutoring with theo, and just sent my email to [redacted] about melbourne writer’s week. i am so tired, and i think worst of all i am not done. there is not enough for me to do that will keep me satisfied, and at the same time i cannot even currently manage to do anywhere near all of it. the division is quite the focus right now, and i feel the breath on my neck of every other student in the class. it’s so weird to be tasteful, to be yelled at, to be shunned, to be targeted

in year nine, i nearly never got this much attention for my appearance, despite practically everything being wrong with my uniform. i think getting away with some things has been partially to do with my emotional state of mind, totally obvious to absolutely everyone who saw me at that point in time. but now, i feel good, i think… i think, i look good. i wear dark lipstick and my hair is a lighter blonde and my body looks great, my smile is big. except now i am being completely targeted by nearly every teacher in the school and i have eyes on me fucking everywhere and i am stuck defending myself, deciding what i will or won’t be prepared to lose about my appearance. yesterday it was the skirt, now it’s the lipstick, tomorrow it’s the nails, the day after it’s the hair, the day after it’s the necklace, the rings, the watch, the shoes. horrifying! i like this all, i protect this all, i compromise some but never all of myself. when did this become a trade-off between academics and character? i will not lose the lipstick, it is something i’m willing to fight for. maybe tomorrow i will decide to wear nothing on my face, and the day after i will have a full face of makeup. my point is, leave us alone. uniform is excellent; it’s brilliant. it’s wonderful. micro-managing the colour of one girl’s lips out of shaking fear of a whole school revolution is repulsive

intruder

february 4th, 2025

i am the intruder in the room. oh, my god. i am and everybody knows it. they’re all looking at me, and they’re all saying in their tiny little blinks, “she is not for this place. she is not supposed to be here.” they are all asking in their tiny little furrowed brows, “is she lost?” i don’t even have an answer for them. like, am i? am i lost? do i belong? who, me? anyway. today especially. i feel the truth is very far away from my reasonings, which maybe i constantly feel like. no, i am very aligned. and i am very clever; i know nobody knows what i am thinking. i can say anything and i can justify it, hell, i can justify my justifications with my bare hands and a deaf-blind audience. just feel the vibrations in the feet, the squeezing of my nails against my palms, the outstretching of my knees as they break back into my calves; i am totally here, i am totally willing to give you what you want

the day is long. it’s like an entire life in a couple of hours, and with each year that passes i lose a moment i could be somewhere else. the way you spend your days is the way you spend your life, and here i am convincing you that i am meant to be here. that i am good for this, i am right for this, i am smart enough, i am beautiful enough, i am faithful enough — look at the way i read my books, the way i smack my lips to spread the red, the way i look to god and my hands shake in prayer

monday is still the weekend

february 3rd, 2025

i’m home today from school, which is pretty maddening. i passed out last night and still woke up before the day started, went to take a shower and my mum stopped me. i’ve started the sound of music and i think it’s beautiful. i watched it when i was six, and haven’t since, so i am practically watching it for the first time. i have homework to do, but everything’s stopping me. the day, and all it’s many multifaceted situations, seasons of reality and want, is just slowly melting away into a crisp abyss i have nothing to do with

does it only appear fun far away?

february 2nd, 2025

i have the flu! i wonder what lies ahead of me. you never hear people ask that when they’re sick unless they’re dying; plagued by terminal illness. nope, not me. i’m excited. i’m riveted to know if i’ll recover fast, or slowly ache all through the week. i’m hoping my illness isn’t long-lasting. it’s fun to talk about it as if i’m a dying victorian child. it’s just the flu, it’s just a cough and a reason to stay in bed and watch five movies and begin a mini-series on binge. sweetpea is the mini-series. it’s a lot of fun, and i am envious — ella purnell plays such cool girls in television. if i was an actress, i’d want her roles. anyway. i do feel miserable, actually. i don’t feel like writing. i don’t feel like anything except slowly declining and melting out onto the floor, a pile of beth. am i allowed to say my name on this website?

eileen

february 1st, 2025

[redacted] and i watched eileen today after my nightmare of a first day at writer’s sa club. it’s not that i didn’t get something out of it. i got a moment to write; three or four poems, scribble down words and drawings. but the rest of it let me down. nobody there writes poetry, not out of the fifteen people who showed up. i seem to be the only published person there, which is okay, not that it matters, but everything that the others discussed appeared to me a pipe-dream. i’m dissimilar, i don’t think that a room full of people interested in exactly the same thing as me is tolerable or productive, and i definitely don’t think it’s validating for me to hear them explain the same topic over and over again; that’s discouraging to me. but to them it was thrilling. i don’t know. i think i expected something more academic, because if i cannot get feedback or a group out of it, am i not better writing at home for that amount of time? i don’t know. maybe opportunities will pop up. it will be nice to have a published teacher-mentor-writer

anyway, the movie was good. the book was… better? i think, i struggled to remember. i found the movie sort of damning all the way through, only for the end to be a hot flash of maybe and bitterness and desperation led into more dry life. it’s okay, but not totally cinematic; the acting was superb. i am getting sick! we swam in the pool too, and talked about colors in nature, getting older. oh, my god! it is so futile to write the things you speak about, it sounds like nothing, but it was everything

quirks i have; difference

january 31st, 2025

to some my reactions might be entirely logical. my “yeah, [it’s] nice” to an upbeat comment about the purple colour of paper for letting-writing, or my giddy tour-guide response to taking the sweet new boy around our school oval for a quick popularity boost, or my awkward chin turning down as my eyes go round and flirty with nervousness in response to a joke i do not understand; it gets me out of my shell. it makes me inviting in other ways. but to me, it’s nonsensical, entirely mostly normally inexplicable to myself, these ways i’ve adopted and grown into, and yet they are things only i will pick up on

i had a nice day today. i am thinking how different i am from everyone else, which is no different than any other day as a human being, but today i am physically different. i look around in my classes and see virtually nobody like me, maybe one or two people that look like me, but never then do they have my reasons. i’m not used to it. i prefer it in some ways, but it’s scary. there is no mutuality. i can feel my belonging is far from tangible to others; it makes me fraudulent to a pair of eyes. i feel people sussing me out, saying why is she here? what is she doing here? why do you sit that way? do you really think you are smart? and i do not look at anybody because i’m ashamed of my answers, my defenses, my dramatics

first real day of year eleven

january 30th, 2025

it’s so scary to see two years of academic life laid out before me. but it is thrilling at the same time. i feel very good about my choice to do IB. it felt like the natural thing to do, but it did take effort to convince myself i was happy to go through with it in the end. i have one subject i’d like to change teacher for, which is hopefully possible due to my quickness in going about inquiring with [redacted]. she says it will be on the basis of mental health, which i suppose is fine even if it’s not entirely accurate. i’m happy to say anything as long as i have her as my teacher. anyway. a boy in my home-room today is new, so i asked him where he was from, and he told me aldinga! i learnt we are just five houses away from each other. homework is done. french, and it was easy. reflection is not done. meditation is done, chores are done. i am going out with my dad for dinner tonight

it’s funny how easy things are when you let them be easy, but it’s hard to find focus always, you need to press on and off and not think about all the terrible things happening to you regardless of situations, they just will. it’s your job to make it worth something or make it count or make it into something kind of beautiful, otherwise it’s just your mess on the floor; i am ready to do something exciting and i am ready to let other people have a taste of it, do you know what i mean? i need to know how to do that. how to get it out of me in a way that doesn’t force connection, brightness, astuteness, do you know what i mean? i guess i am looking to be looked at a little bit, and i did feel like that today and i can’t lie to you; it was a nice feeling, to know that i am not special but that in a room full of people i can appear to have such a quality. i can be the perfect candidate before anybody has glanced in my direction

rushing my cleverness

january 29th, 2025

there won’t be another time i do this. i had alliance française after school, for two hours, and i thought the whole thing was really actually quite perfect. it’s exactly what i need to keep up my french and make sure i stay ahead of the cohort. i couldn’t remember the word for team, equipe, and there was a boy across from me on the table who i thought was kind of prudish. but there are people like that everywhere. i think the room was a little white and plain and boring, and it just washed over me, but i liked speaking french and i liked being in a room with people who are learning how to speak french. hopefully next week i talk to the nervous girl sitting beside me, i thought she was nice even though she was from a very pretentious all-girls private school which gets a bad rep

school today was okay, too. we did boring stuff all day, but the best thing was the morning when i woke up at six and had four hours to drink tea outside and journal and read and yawn and listen to a critics at large episode, all of that is really nice; a sign of relaxation

it was a beautiful sunny day

january 28th, 2025

last day of freedom, last day of wondering. last day of prospering! of hoping! of maybe! it’s scary. i want to be allowed to know this feeling all the time, and yet it’s weighed down by the lack of it all; i am all over the place right now. i know obsession like a friend, or just another book on my shelf waiting for me to pick it up and discover a book-mark inside it. i never will!

will you let me into your life

january 27th, 2025

waiting around for you is like pulling my sweet tooth, i get so confused. it’s like growing a pimple and writing good poetry and sounding posh for the waiter, wait-er. it makes sense

it’s been a good run here, and i’m learning how to function without many good things i used to depend on; sex, drugs, epiphanies, worship, lies. not that all those things are innately good all the time, but at some point they were independently purposeful. however! i do wish sometimes it were the 50s, i would drive away and not see you again, not hear from this place again because i didn’t want to; i wouldn’t see anything on the news or on my tiny phone-screen and i wouldn’t look up and try to make up reasons for staying here and hunting you

i survived

january 26th, 2025

my last party was last night and i had the best morning of writing. i woke up early to do geoffrey nutter’s poetry class and it went for four hours instead of three. i wrote some really great things that i feel proud of, and got feedback from much older more experienced poets. we’re back at aldinga and it’s hitting me; the tiredness. i feel like such a grouch. i lost scrabble today and need to tell somebody about it, and i want to see people instead of seeing myself through people. oh em gee! that’s how i feel. quite the scarecrow

i don’t want to say good things all the time, but i guess i do feel good. i guess i do feel okay, anyway. a little sleep-deprived but i feel important, and i’m having conversations again. i sometimes feel smart. all holidays i have been feeling less of an intellect, particularly whilst speaking; it feels as if it takes longer for me to say things and process things and i have felt for at least a month a bit like an idiot sometimes. and i can’t say it’s all to do with language, because i won’t not blame my own loss of intellectual stimulation, but i am gaining my spark back anyhow

to do with all-over

january 25th, 2025

i didn’t get drunk, and i have to go to sleep now so that i can write tomorrow. sorry for being so small-minded

is it over?

january 24th, 2025

agitated by nothing, like eyelashes caught by mascara too thick, too blocky. at aldinga again and feeling grateful and anxious. my arms have little pulses and my back is stretched out funny across the bed, my neck tilted back and up goes my chin. haven’t eaten very well today! cannot wait for school to begin so that i can simply eat better every day. inescapable nervousness, ran into someone from primary school whilst on a dog walk and she didn’t recognise me. had such a nice morning, one of those, where you know it’ll go on but you’re in a rush anyway but you remind yourself and you soothe the worry, and you’re proud once you realise you’re doing it

first time i feel honest i feel dirty

january 23rd, 2025

we would never talk badly about each other, but something happened in the car today. i had five minutes of air time and i will never forget it, like rinsing your hands over and over under scalding hot tap water, glancing quickly, maniacally around at the kitchen thinking the biggest appliances are surely looking in on you and judging with their heavy lids. it felt just awful. it felt like a cold sore was growing from inside my liver, and i could not control the swollen tongue. i did everything in my power to make it stop, and for us to revive, but the points were so valid i simply sat there with astounding patience and cooperation. i could have wanted it. i chose not to. this is the first time i’ve heard them speak about you in this way, like you really do exist not only to me. you have let people down and i know you, you wouldn’t do that, but my evidence is astoundingly lacking. for the first time i am realizing many things about you, like that you do prioritize me to a certain degree, but she is kind and sensitive and loves you. she is not used to the way you move through beings and longings, but i am there already, and i have never needed to explain to somebody else but myself or but you why this happens, so i couldn’t, i simply froze. we know it is true. you are very fed on the outside, but you are the hungriest person i know on the inside, like you’d devour the world if you had time to remember to bring the cutlery with all your dizzy exercises. remember that? me and your mother! it’s getting too personal. anyway, i wanted to ask you if i should tell you, or forgive myself for listening to the truth about your motion and how it is not just me; i felt well seen. i felt like i was not a liar for the first time. i felt like maybe you had been calling me a liar some of the time, and every time you confessed i didn’t want to hear it. not at all. i am both uncomfortably aroused and significantly sad about knowing this. i cannot defend your brutality any more than i can accept it, and accepting it was hard enough. maybe the right thing to do is to bring it up, like i always thought at some point it might be nice to tell you i am scared of loving anybody else

florist musings

january 22nd, 2025

i was offered a job today at the bouquet course. it was shocking. i thought i was doing badly. there were all sorts of women there; barely best friends (an insecure loner and a tireless soother) mother and daughter for an anniversary gift, a mother whose son was getting married, a lady who liked working with her hands, and me. we arranged the flowers, learnt to cut them and place them and strew them together. i felt my job was poor as nobody came up to me the whole lesson, i imagined they all thought i was hopeless and invisible. but at the end of the class i told the kind lady who ran our workshop thank you, i am leaving now and at that very moment she offered me a job. she told me to send through my resume. i have done that, and am waiting for a response now. i am not sure if i will be able to accept because of school next year, and how busy i will be, but i am hopeful

i feel prospects are strong and intentions do help, mornings help, ritualizing the days turns them into magic, although i worry about how quick time is going. the party is tonight and i have found what i am wearing, i am getting dropped there with a girl i knew from primary school whose birthday is tomorrow. i am not sure how tonight will go but nobody knows with these things, so i am probably going to spend the night with [redacted], because her best friend is sick and won’t be there. i am excited. i will drink and fall asleep and be alive sometime tomorrow

insomniac rises

january 21st, 2025

part of me is so bored by this routine. i don’t have much to say, i have spent all day talking to myself, other than this morning was beautiful. i was tired but i felt it truly, and i learnt how to draw the world map from memory at 8am. the things we achieve

i have felt your body

january 20th, 2025

i love my chiropractor, she is ultimately a wonderful person, maybe more genuine than anybody else i’ve met. today i came into my appointment and was not sure how to behave, normally i am all joy and readiness, but she spoke with me and by the end of the session i had opened up. she told me, “it’s so good to know you’re happy.” i told her that it was kind of her, and thank you. she said, “well, i have felt your body when it’s been under so much stress; i am feeling your body now, and something’s changed.” isn’t it wonderful to be touched by a healer?

i am a genuine person

january 19th, 2025

this year is a great big worry. people are beginning not to stumble when the say “last year” on accident. not because i am afraid of coming into school into a new year, or because of friendships or myself, but because it seems a great deal farther away from the year i was born. i am getting so old! you will hear me saying that forever, until i really am too old. so it’s not that unusual to be at the beach with girls and lying on your back and hearing them talk and the waves and the noises of seagulls and tourists in the heat, but it’s a little too sweet to not imagine ending soon. i have another two years left, maybe less than that, until i have to muster up enough fluency and brilliance to step into my shoes and act like an adult. there are too many things i want to do, but i couldn’t tell you when, it seems all so narrow

and today i was home alone. my parents went to the beach house and so i spent late morning into late afternoon by myself: studying, prettying-up, wasting time, reading outside. i met [redacted] in the city and we caught the long bus together to the beach for the party. i felt dissociative but i acted conscionable somewhat around other people. there are lots of moments i could recount. sitting on the lawn with the kids and dogs around us sharing a cider between all three of us, laying down on our bellies and feeling our backs burn, eating pizza and standing around for cake and when [redacted] came up to me to tell me i was a genuine person

a really truly wonderful day

january 18th, 2025

[redacted] came over, which i wasn’t expecting her to do. she got home much less than twenty-four hours ago. my parents left this morning for the beach house; they’re sleeping there overnight tonight with the dogs. but we all swam in the pool together before then, and last night we watched two episodes of a lord of the rings tv show mostly for my dad, but i thought it was good. family time anyway. once [redacted] arrived, we swam in the pool after obsessing over each other a little in the kitchen. then we got lemon gelati and played chess in public where some girls in my year work waitressing. she didn’t know how to castle and thought i was making it up. when we got home we watched his three daughters in my dad’s “den” and i poured us both a glass of very expensive 2019 shiraz from my parents’ wine shelf. she has no idea. i asked, “do you think this is going to be a memorable hangout?” and we both agreed no, but now i think because i asked that, it’s probably more than likely

life’s transitional periods

january 17th, 2025

went out today to buy presents for all the parties next week. three, really. that’s still a lot inside seven days. one sunday, one wednesday, one saturday. spent forty bucks on their presents combined, and then walked into bras & things and bought myself a new pyjama set for eighty bucks, but in the end who is counting all the reasons i can act obliviously to my own internal selfish behaviors? and today was much better, really. it probably couldn’t have been hard to beat with yesterday’s bar, but even though i struggled i just kept on going. [redacted]’s home and all is actually going to be fine. my life won’t end, nor is it going to start

a nice lady came up to me at the bus stop who clearly hadn’t been speaking english for a long time, and she said, “i’m sorry for disturbing you, but where did you get your dress? you walked past me and it was just like an angel”

day-drinking

january 16th, 2025

i woke up late today, and thought it was a good idea to have a glass of red wine and watch tv all day, so i decided to do that as punishment for something. i have no idea what. maybe yesterday’s fiasco of irrational thought provoked me enough to spiral into bed rotting. and it did me no favors again, i just tried to forget that i really care a lot about the things that happen to me because of choices i’ve made; i want to pretend that i really don’t mind if i have a day in bed because i woke up late and nothing’s achievable anymore, so i really should rest. it’s a sign of needing to rest. oh my god i am so tired of taking every little thing a sign of something, like as if i am not the all-knowing whimsical god of my own existence, telling myself what to do and how to think and behave and act, but i chose this. you understand this is just a taste? oh, please, i’m cringing! like, i would want for you to know that this isn’t all i am, i am creative and intuitive and alive and i am passionate about so many things, but to express is to fray at every inch of you alight until you’re just the saved insides; it’s just the most poignant striking selection, and i cannot get outside that box right now. it’s been too long since i had vigor, and since i slept well, but it’s only been a few weeks. how do i get back there?

lots to learn every day

january 15th, 2025

hasn’t love been explained to me before? it’s so not a laughing matter, but here i am. the time i spend writing about this is all the time i later spend giggling quietly under the covers about the things i wrote eons ago. and i i will be able to tell when i’m lying, that’s the funny thing. all of this did really happen, the thinking and the planning and the scheming. lots of insight today and lying down on the floor like nothing’s impossible. notes taken. thank god the moon will always be there to accuse for my sins, to tell my troubles to and blame for them. so much reflection but no tears, which i wish was the case; salt is healing. it’s only thursday but the sky is absolutely caving in. for some reason i am hopeful the resolution will come quickly, and all this time i pour into writing and aching will be worth so much

how desperate am i?

january 14th, 2025

i have been waiting for this to be over since i was thirteen. i guess there is freedom in this, a sense of moral compass; a protection from myself. i am priority, thank you, and it could be that way, but it won’t be forever, so i have to stay on my toes. on guard and never totally aroused by the most spectacular display of soul i’ve known. there are worse places to be, much worse feelings to feel. yet i cannot be satiated with this consolation, it doesn’t fill me up quite how it satisfies me to write it down. this is because it’s the actual truth, and the truth is pretty much always underwhelming, even when it takes you by surprise—it’s never the end of the world, and that is how i hope to believe it will deliver itself to me as, an apocalypse

hopelessness today for no reason, again. my face is so heavy it could fall right off. can i officially and confidently say this feeling persists day after evening and morning and day again? i am not depressed, in fact i’m really pretty on my feet about the whole thing. the whole “life is a journey” propaganda thing. but i do not feel like eating, or looking up at the sky. can i measure my doom by the time i’ve gone without making out a single shape in the clouds? i was probably seven, ha-ha-ha… that’s when it really settled in. but that’s ridiculous to lie about knowing. i should think about myself all the time if it means i don’t need to think about this secret, because now i realize it doesn’t really belong to anybody but some prerequisite to space. i know people think about me from time to time, and that’s really generous of them, but i don’t have anything to say about it. i wish that i did. i think about that sort of thing quite a lot; recognition and approval, but once i have it i rarely know what to do with it

day of rest and easing into spirit

january 13th, 2025

i bought a bunch of candles today and on the way home they were clinking together in my bag, i saw my neighbors and i wonder if they think i have an alcohol problem. that’s all i did today which involved me getting out of the house. i did help mum walk the dogs, though, and we got coffee from down the road. but i’ve been at home, writing actually. i’ve updated the links to my blog, because i changed the search identification, and worked on an article i started writing in france. did some journaling, published a poem. and i also have cleaned out my room; my desk drawers and the two big containers, one of which has school workbooks and folders and the other has all of my many journals over the years. i think i have fifteen full ones, not including my notebooks and scrapbooks, and well, this platform. i will wait around to see if [redacted] is free to call today, seeing as i missed her text last night. if she can’t call me i will turn off my phone, meditate, light all of the candles i bought today, and do something for the full moon. maybe i will just journal about it, burn my sage and read a poem out loud. i do not always see the point in ritualizing my practices. often when i do perform rituals, i will only do them in a spur of the moment desire to put belief into something, like the night before new year’s eve, when i lit my candles for each month, pulled a card and wrote a reflection and note of gratitude. this is not an offering to any god, it’s self-work. and it is nice to know i respond and worship in some way this need to connect with myself

amazingly feeling

january 12th, 2025

it’s like i don’t know how to be honest anymore. i can’t even say this is the most vulnerable i’ve seen myself; writing like this. run-on. i don’t know. but it should be? i am saying exactly as i am thinking, but we know from wonderful practices that thoughts are not self, so who exactly inhabits me? it is not this person, so i suppose that’s why poetry eases me, when i manage to write something and i feel a rush like a squeal because it’s so tender, so evocative, so amazingly feeling

some people came over to swim in my pool today and the heat made me so tired. i did not feel lucky, but i was happy to spend time with them. there were little good things sprinkled throughout today that made me fulfilled, but for some reason the item standing out in my mind for now is sitting down on the floor with a sigh after coming back from the theatre (we watched paddington in peru) and thinking, “oh, no, i have to do it all”. i like to do my makeup, i like to sit and journal, but i do wonder sometimes if i should change something. is it so much to think i could always be amazingly feeling?

what is human equal to?

january 11th, 2025

today is staring at the mirror on my wall and seeing my other standing mirror’s reflection reflecting that wall mirror, and on and on and on. just slow, fast, degrading, all in vain, beautiful. so much jealousy recently, and i wonder if it comes from more than just lucrative comparison? i mean, the comparison is ultimately for glory, not because of what it does to me but because of what i do to satisfy it, and then to justify it. we all justify life by lying to ourselves about language, and offering up different helpless definitions, but it comes to a point in the definition where you can no longer define meaning through origin, as well as give to it a generous importance. when the curtains close you are left with the one side of the curtain you are on, which if you think about we always were, so we could watch the screen. i cannot get around it and i cannot become it. it is painful to compare writing, so i do not do that often. but when i do i feel aggrieved, unproductive for it’s no longer clear what people want from me. if they were to read this, would they also prefer it? i prefer it over my own writing. why do i not write like this, can i study and mimic? no, no. i do not like to write that way. my head is a wonderful warzone i am keeping close lately. i know i am smart but it’s not equal to talent, i know i am human but it is not equal to the curtain

insightful dreaming

january 10th, 2025

hello cold chill, hello evening blue. woke today and felt ready for slumber — a horrible dream about being stuck on a pirate-like ship with an attractive blonde woman who had burned skin and threatened to eat us, maybe just chase us, us being the family and some friends i don’t speak with anymore, pushed out and pulled in against the current to out-swim all the sharks which weren’t there, how can the water feel so realistic? — but thank god it was a dream. i woke myself up by thinking, “what a way to go. i am not the kind of person who dies like this.” so i pried my eyes open

true crime

january 9th, 2025

half-heartedly suffering today in bed, watching true crime on youtube. not feeling like the world is ready for me to enter it. how will i manage any sort of workload next year? how will i manage my life when it comes to it? i am destined to fail at this rate, a downhill spiral. everybody is insulting me today, and i am included. i meditated. i know i am not the mind. where am i! it’s boring to talk about. i’d rather talk about what’s happening in the world. catastrophic events, these naked fires bright and alive, earthquakes and bombings and the war which will never stop raging, on and on and on. so many horrible things happening; i swim in the pool. another news story breaks out; i get into the shower. it’s all ridiculous. when is it my turn? i am back talking about me. it’s not my responsibility to do anything, so the helplessness sets in and i am totally wretched for not using my utter lack of horror to the advantage of others; i save no lives. i sit and stretch and eat and bathe and sleep and sit again. i talk sometimes. i spend too much time thinking to have a thought be of any use to me; it’s all a thunderstorm. can i hear the lightning anymore? no, it puts me to sleep. like the heavy steps down the hallway. it is always me slamming the door. well, i would like it if somebody else took the burden away from me. it’s no good here, in this place. who is going to die? it’s all in riddles. nobody can bear it, so they talk quiet in the kitchen. i am listening, i am. i am beginning to know

looks like i’m walking forever

january 8th, 2025

tried to do the right thing and get my license to drive. keep on forgetting and plus i have no desire to own a car anyway. i like walking. but it looks like i’m walking forever because the app is so fucking stressful, in the last hour alone i have thought about tearing each individual strand of my hair out, eating every layer of my lip, and smashing my phone against a mirror. just as i thought i’d completed it, i realized i was using the wrong government app, after i’d had to re-add my details a hundred times over. and this new app is going to make me call someone to verify my identity. i may need to just go into the center tomorrow

so tired all of the time. continues. lack of energy which i cannot solve, i do not know what was different in my first two-three weeks of being home. learned on the news that supplements are not always good for you. rarely, actually, unless you start with a deficiency. otherwise you get neurological problems. cellular function is messed with, something serious. went to the beach today, too, after going out to morning coffee where i posed everyone spirituality based idealized questions because i was bored of hearing them talk about cars and made [redacted] order a second iced long black (”is it better to live life in anticipation of death?” what a great one!) but still had some energy to spend even after that. so i managed to get my brother to drive us to the closest beach. i didn’t have much to say but it was nice to be there. it was hot and the day was melting away. the water is always a relief. but today has been fine. every day feels slow but onward. i have been watching the news on the palisades wildfires passively for almost two hours, completely mad—we have been lucky this summer

like twins; space and time

january 7th, 2025

oh man it is so unromantic to be this in love. it cannot be right to deny yourself this kind of bite. at the same time i cannot stand the wait. you know this, you know. i will not do what i did last year; i will not fall in and out like a deadbeat. i will not walk away to induce her evil. i will not cower in hope of discovery because i have never known such a lack of ugliness, in nature and body. and i do not know what to do when it comes on, this love, but it is always so strong and insurmountable. that one song that feeds into your bloodstream, it cannot go away. it cannot get out. it’s how the hurt gets in. it’s how it festers. so, it must bloom! maybe i miss the magic of a rose petal on my shoulder, still it transfers. i don’t know, but oh dear anyway, i am losing this battle of forgetting it was ever brilliant. it seems far easier to forget it was ever so bad i did what i did, and i cried and had stomach aches and wondered all the time what would happen. to me, to her, to us. to the world because of us. because surely we were the heartbeat. this is much better, right? the occasional flush of lonely dread, the waiting at the end of the phone, the eager suffering for a turn at admiration (will it come? will it come? will it bleed me out this time? will it come?)

i know she must love me so well in her corner of the universe. in some amazing way i seem to forget we are definitely we, because we are each so good on our own, in the arms of a different unmeant vessel, our minds reeling in the sense of growth, and so painfully watchful and keen; like twins. we compete and dine and read and eventually fall asleep. but i feel alone without her there to pretend we might be more alive than everyone else. she understands the space i take up, she allows me that, and i allow her time

home again naturally

january 6th, 2025

i always wonder who will ever read these! it makes me laugh, because i’m pretty delighted at the idea. working toward maybe one day sharing it, but for now i am grossly okay with letting it exist here just for me to see. a future employer, maybe? a university? a son or daughter of my own? my future self? maybe it will only ever be artificial intelligence, scanning through and collecting my information and one day it will help solve a cold case. absolute doom. cannot wait to sleep tonight in my own bed, i have been reading all day and writing in my small blue book; i love it. i will keep it so close to me, wherever i am it will be there. do you see the problem? nothing ever gets out, it’s all in folders and journals and dialogues

in every breath i want to know i exist

january 5th, 2025

i do not want to take life for granted. can i prove this? i am shocked to be alive. i write poetry to cope. people will say, “there is nothing more special / beautiful / magical than life,” when in fact there is just nothing more. nothing more than life. so why do we behave miserably? why when i sit in a chair can i not sit still? why do i crave to run only at night and never in the day? why do i listen for noises to tell me i am going to die in my bedroom? it’s pointless! i love it! today i’m stunned by the news that aubrey plaza’s husband has passed away. i cannot be aggrieved. it’s nobody’s loss, really. i will not behave and be silly about a person because i like their art. we went out with mum’s childhood best friend and they all looked at me when i spoke. i could feel their twitches. i was called a ballerina. i wore my white dress today and my hair pulled back; maybe that’s why

there’s nothing more horrible than being somewhere you don’t belong. let that apply to everything. no modern state of mind is suited toward a human being, so we are all horrible except for the surviving life. and i forage for nothing, make art desperately alone not for others to enjoy, i love foolishly not for a desirable match, i exist in spaces for pleasure not necessity. in every breath i want to know i exist, and people can taste it on me

i am always staying the same

january 4th, 2025

another day of old people, talking about them and being with them. a strange mixture of worry and absolute impending doom stirred up with a righteous sense of relief and love. it could never be me but it will be one day, but by then it won’t be me. it will be somebody else. but that’s only a small comfort. we are as much ourselves forever as we are the infection that swallows the fruit, the sweet which has been bitten. do not be afraid of me, i say as i come up to the mirror, it is just you. just as we’ve always been. just the face, the body, the being is unfractured. but it cannot be true. we must lose something when we lose the vessel. a sense of vital self that can never be gained back. when we lose the ability to garden, to shower, to touch ourselves, to walk, to see, to hear, to smell, to taste; we lose the consciousness

anyway. do not be afraid of me when you come home; i am no different than the last hundred times you’ve wanted to see me, dreamed of my body—just more ferocious, more plagued by longing. aren’t we all? when will it be lost on me, i wonder. last night i could not sleep; i was busy thinking of who i will address each of my books to. poetry to my mother, fiction to [redacted], prose to my teachers. then i was busy thinking about death, and my daughter, and my mother and hers, and then myself; i was busy thinking about how i will make life totally thrilling. so far, all i have come up with is writing, moving, learning, and love

wine, mines, and people

january 3rd, 2025

sat on nana’s living room floor and went through four fat photo albums. hard to make that sound more magical than it is; i am too content maybe. how i don’t need to make you feel like it matters tells me things are working toward a better time for me. get it? i will have time to convince you of something later on. down the road, when i am becoming tired of living. soon-ish. i am not too optimistic, always hopeful. seeping into my skin. maybe. back to the floor; skimming, skimming, foot scratching back of the leg, mum on her knees, back to watching, stacking, i’ll take this good one of me, showing eagerly, bearing teeth at yourself, grinning, grinning, i was so thin. earlier today we drove up to woolombi. i thought the drive was marvelous. so lush and green and tall are the dancing hills in their bright green colors. and i kept on thinking of lines to myself, but got stuck on, “do you hear the screaming?” the cicadas were singing and fucking forever, and next year it will be even worse; twice as many babies breeding and screaming whilst they do it. dad’s cousin came over in a buggy and showed me the haunted dementia unit. all of this is timeless. feels like nothing, but i know i will remember looking into nana’s round mirror in my flesh colored nightgown and sitting on her sheets and smelling her smell that stationary earth, curve of fine wood, blossom in imaginary bloom smell, and thinking, “feels like nothing, but i know i will remember this”

sydney, i am yours if you’ll have me

january 2nd, 2025

mum and i took the plane to sydney at 6am this morning. it has been quite the day. i had the strangest sense i’d run into nicole kidman at the airport. i looked it up; she’d been photographed there a day ago. we left the hire car i finished doing my makeup in and walked around quite a bit, for quite a while, all around the harbour, the rocks, and the alleyways. i did not think i’d like sydney quite so much, but i do. everywhere is a view, the craziness. the levels. a skyscraper that towers is half-cut by an old brick building, a storefront, then the harbour bridge, the roads are strewn with trees and it smells clean. everybody looks beautiful, they walk and wear sunglasses and their perfume melts off their bodies. i became charmed today

i bought a blue journal, a tiny one, and wrote furiously in the car on the way to nana’s. mum and i spoke at the lunch table about my pursuits, which always gets inspiration going. and we’d gone to the contemporary art gallery, where there had been many of moving performance art exhibits which made me overcome to write. so i wrote poems, things i’d heard, wanted to do, and then we arrived. it is very hard to explain what confuses me so much, other than the fact i feel i want too much; this place, the other place. i looked at my clothes the other day and realised why it is that material possession incapacitates a person. there is too much of life to choose. there is no forward approach, i must go through. how do i do such a thing without going backwards? it couldn’t be the worst thing in the world. if i could know anything right now, i’d like to know where i’m meant to end up for certain. then i could move around without feeling plagued by the great mess of searching. although that is where the joy and the fear comes from, and i do not imagine i will settle for halting the search in anticipation of relief one day

new humanity, awake and truthful

january 1st, 2025

hungover and brilliantly humbled by morning. that ugly feeling about me now and there’s nothing to kill it with, no hatred too great. the understanding is mutual. although i do feel disappointed. there was a great moment last night when i was in the jumping heat of crowd and we all screamed, i did not feel like suffocating but i did feel their tenseness in front of my own mouth, our chests heaving in uncertain joy, there still. i opened my eyes and knew it was another year. we all rejoiced, me and the months. january is reaching out in front of me now with it’s very crooked brows, and i have an opportunity to steal it and hide it away as mine, in my little bag. like most things, it won’t end up being much more than imagination. a clean room and a sense of pride. a moment of grief and silence in trees. a meaningful smile in someone’s direction. a taste for life. a desire for “always” that is nothing if not selfish. that is year, after year, after year. i am lucky to live this way. we are each an animal lapping it’s own destiny up in a moving jaw, buying cars and having sex and being played and doing nothing, really, for promise of everything: that’s life as religion