i write and write and get nowhere. i scroll through my phone and there’s no one to talk to. no one qualified. no one i feel comfortable burdening with my complaints. so i suck it up. i try not to cry. each and every time i am forced to wipe my tears in public, i feel like a father coaching his young son on being tougher. in the forefront i feel hurt and hopeless, but deep down i know this is just another test of my resilience. this is life. sometimes i catch myself feeling like this road i’m on is interminable, and then i realize that’s precisely what i want. to be alive. to survive. to keep on. as hard as it is to look at this way, even if life is all suffering i still survived. i know my capacity for pain is that much greater. at least that’s what i’ve been trying to tell myself and my mother. i wish i could say that i’m really out here busting my ass the way i should be to help the both of us, but maybe that’s the lesson in all this. the not saving money and not treating my job like it keeps a roof over my head… it all comes back to me later. as much as it may feel like only negative energy boomerangs, i know that’s not the case. these days i just find it so hard to apply myself to anything that doesn’t wear off in a few hours. my job stability really added to that comfort. i should’ve known better. what’s stability? everything can change in an instance.

Anonymous: What is your star sign?


7:35pm on a tuesday in July.

change is good, but sometimes it just isn’t needed. i’ve spent the past 48 hours trying to pick a new hair color to finally decide that my natural color suits me the best. i realize i may have been creating this entire new hair thing to distract myself from the fact that i’m paying $40+ for the gym each month and never going. perhaps it’s to distract me from even bigger issues, but either way, i’m glad i took notice before transforming into a troll doll.

i want to be better at a lot of things, but mostly at loving/staying true to myself. my life feels like a john mayer song (“something’s missing”) and i don’t like it. no matter how content i feel at any point in the day, i always end up with this feeling of longing and sometimes full on fucking despair. i don’t expect for life to be perfect or anything remotely close to it, but i’m searching for something i’m sure i won’t be able to identify until i’ve got it in my possession.


the new Lykke Li provides the musical backdrop for my afternoon commute to work. i didn’t make it to the gym like i had stayed up past 1am planning to. i woke up early enough but it being Monday & all, me making breakfast was an accomplishment in it’s own respect. i had instant oatmeal.

motivation has never been my forte & i admit that in itself makes me the last person who should be smoking weed first thing in the morning. scratch that. wax. i do what i do to get by though. tomorrow is another day.

from the yoga mat.

I wanted to wake up at 7am but 9am will do. I wanted to do some complicated yoga routine but some stretching will suffice. Trying to find the good in things so it’s beautiful that I’m up to feel this cool air circulating through my apartment. It’s nice to see the sun kissing the plants he just potted last night. Bunny is up cleaning himself and I envy his lack of plans or schedule. He just waits for lettuce or fruit and water. He doesn’t have any dilemmas or drama. I don’t want days off to be the only cherished free time. Mornings. Nights. Commutes. Every moment off the clock is free.

  • soon as my sneaker hit the bottom of my steps i spotted a really nice pink pen. i hadn’t even noticed until that second that i packed my journal, but nothing to write with.
  • i actually wrote for a few minutes on the subway.
  • i mustered up the courage to ask a gorgeous asian girl on the train where she got her pen, and she was super chill. 
  • i couldn’t resist the urge to fill my water bottle with a brew today. 
  • i napped for hours.
  • i cleaned everything.
  • i found new loofah gloves downstairs in my lobby’s donation spot and now i’m slathered in coconut oil. 

don’t want to feel empty tonight, but don’t want a temporary fill either. today was long and i have no desire to sleep for some strange reason. it’s as though stretching today keeps tomorrow from happening. but i know and you know that as soon as that clocks strikes midnight, it’s the umpteenth anniversary of time not waiting for me. 

taylorroanna: Your thoughts are everything! I can relate and your mind is so amazing. You're very beautiful as well.

I appreciate the love, queen.

not sure why even for a moment i believe anyone in this lifetime to be mine, and only mine. i know you’ll meet someone else, maybe even tell them about me. i know you’ll hold hands and conversations. you’ll exchange spit and secrets. you’ll create children and memories. still sometimes i want to crush your wings. i want to swat you right from the fucking sky. i just know it’s not the way. we were meant to be borrowed. we were meant to be enjoyed momentarily, like books. to be dog eared and have our margins littered with notes and insights that add to our worth and our character. if i can’t keep you then let me break you in.

growing up i always felt like home was a prison, my parents were wardens, and i was a lonely inmate. i wanted the key to the prison. to my own prison. i thought there was freedom in running things. now all i do is run from things. never really stopped to think that the guards, the wardens.. they spend all their time in and maintaining the prison too. i find it bittersweet that hindsight is so crystal clear. i hate kicking myself for not knowing better yesterday when i’m obviously learning today. 

i left home thinking i would find freedom and i’ve just found different things to keep me in place. once i took shelter, which remains to be the biggest blessing in my life, i lost most hope of travelling the way i had dreamed. i know why people don’t open their mail now. i know why people run.

i’ve lost myself in a cycle of going to work and coming home, trying to feel good, and trying to get by. i work someplace that makes me feel like i’m in school or dealing with parents. i always feel like i’m doing something wrong. and that’s where i earn my livelihood.

i don’t want to complain, anymore. i just want something to be different. the air is so perfect outside my job. freedom is not working to stay in this little crevice, however dear it is to me in this moment. i’m not satisfied. i feel like i’ve hit a ceiling in some ways, but i know that’s the most unrealistic shit i could possible tell myself. 

i’ve been up to my hairline, honestly, in distractions. attention-seeking, self-deprecating, unproductive bullshit. i try desperately to remember who i was before i got my first computer, or my first cell phone. 

i long for peace and tranquility. for ample free time. for days spent in nature. for time to know myself. i’ve been snapping pics and deleting them for years. the same goes for my writing. i have few tangible artifacts. everything is passing so quickly.

money makes me angry. money makes me greedy. it makes me envious. it has brought out the worst in me. but i need it to some degree, and i can’t change that. 

i still want what i want. i need to not be confined to dealing with people who don’t care to respect me while i help them receive a simple service, for minimal profit on my end. i need to not have anxiety and be driven to medication and coping some way, every day. 

i need real freedom.

I meet new people all the time and I never really know if I should trust them or not, but for some reason I always do. I’m not sure if that’s a bad thing but I’ve always been really open and trusting.