Content warning for explicit and detailed suicidal thoughts.
There’s a water tower behind my workplace that I’ve thought about flinging myself off of.
Continue readingoriginal writing
Social Niceties
In the olden days—a period of time as ephemeral as the name suggests, encompassing far more than just the vague pseudo-Victorian semi-1950s era we think of when we use it—there was a societal code women used to reject unfit suitors without seeming untoward. Not that men have ever gotten the point, even with a point-blank firm “no”, but it used to seem fun—to demur, flutter your fan in this exact fashion; to snub, avoid eye contact; to let down easy, say, “it’s not you, it’s me.”
I keep my head down and I keep my answers single-syllabic.
Continue readingTHE END
Warning: some non-graphic descriptions of violence and gore.
The apocalypse came quietly, when it dawned. There were no trumpets. There were no avenging angels. There was no blood, no fire, no sign of struggle. That would come later. It started, simply, as a scribbled note on a gas station bathroom wall.
Continue readingHappY
I had a conversation with a friend recently that’s led me to some thoughts about happiness.
I struggle with depression, and it is a struggle. Various life choices and circumstances can make that depression better or worse, to say nothing of my anxiety; it’s a chemical ouroboros up in here, one feeding off the other and vice versa. Being happy isn’t a choice I can make. That was taken out of my hands whenever my genes decided “yup, this one’s gonna be a little effed up.” Of course, that’s gross simplification. Happiness isn’t just a choice, or just a feeling, it’s a state of mind, a journey. You don’t wake up one day and find yourself at Happy.
I could go into “what is Happy, anyway?” but I think I would rather dwell on the idea that while it’s perfectly okay to not be happy, it’s a crushing existence when you feel like it’s forever out of reach, always somewhere else.
Continue readinglost things
staring into space at the phone in my hands
making list after list after list of things that need to get done—
im sagging like old grapes, soft in their skins, turning into puddles with time