a place to put words

why is outreaching to others about my emotional state so haaaaaaaaard. i did it thought and i think it was the right move. i know i dont want to burden others with my presence, but i also know that people care about me and what I have to say and I trust that thats the case. let's try to be okay

i accidently deleted a post of mine. i would like to think that it was the whim of the universe and not my clumsiness that guided the act. oh well. "Sometimes things come to me Sometimes I come to things In light love covers me but it says I'm bad company" - Scallops Hotel - Lavender Chunk

idk maybe everything is meaningless, and maybe it isnt, and maybe it is and ad infinitum until we realize that the question is arbitrary. nothing in the universe has ever been destroyed or created, meerly changed form. what is me is what is you, the difference in our genome and chemical structure is so astronomically small that holding the door open is just as much self care as taking a day off. why am i on this planet? i dont fucking know, but i played my ukulele with friends and we all sang "Everything Stays" together without knowing that the others knew the world. i am in the mood to ramble about the complexities of our existence, to wax poetic about the cosmos and sing the praises of creation. yet, my words are but grunts and sighs in comparison to the symphony that surrounds me. more can be gained in a lively conversation than in all the books in the world, more can be seen in the shallow smile of the shy girl in the back of the class than in a mosaic.  maybe no on

i can't handle fragile things.

i think my illegibility is a defense mechanism i am so obsessed with being found that it obfuscates my fear of being known, or rather my fear of consequences being attributed to who i am. i just subtweeted someone and they responded to it. my actions had consequences and i cared (actually i didnt because they were a racist right wing nerd). i want what i say to be heard, and i like the idea of being known and famous, but i wish i could filter who sees my vulnerabilities. i wish my parents would never see me like this. what would i say to justfyi the space i have filled if they knew who i was. i have to own up to saying things. "fuck yeah i said that and i stand by it". i am so obsessed with being quiet, making sure no one is listening in for fear that i could be found out that i invented a whole code to prevent it. but now, amidst a sea of poor handwriting and uncodable thoughts, i cannot decipher myself. my reflection in the mirror is a painting that i just do not unde

for someone who spends all of their time talking about themselves i am really bad at it. somehow the words never seem to form right when i have something to say of value. someone will ask "so do you like guys" or "what are your pronouns" and i will freeze up. somehow certain words seem laced with poison,  or just strong feelings of strangeness to say out loud. i just cant seem to do it. everyone around me is so open, can joke so freely about their intimate selves. yet somehow for me everything stays hidden. when others confide in me i feel fine and want to comfort them. when  they say "i feel like this/am this kind of person" i applaud their bravery and ability  to articualte the nuances of their own existence within a grammar that deliniates and destroyes non-conformity. yet somehow i cannot let myself do the same. i always joke that these things "never  come up in conversation" but i just suck at talking about it. and when i actually do try