Posts

I moved to Substack!!

 I'll be updating stuff there, instead. I'll keep this archive though, for what it's worth. Unconventionaljournal.substack.com

please handle with care

i started praying to God. i don't know how people can experience something like this again and again. just the once seems plenty for me. am i supposed to gain some sort of spiritual revelation? am i supposed to feel like a better person after the hurt dies down? what, truly, is the end goal of healing from a breakup? i don't feel good. i never feel good anymore. i once felt incredibly beautiful and like a girl and like a woman. i've been reduced to apathy now, and the skin under my eyes has only gotten darker. i cut my own hair again, but all i can remember about it is how lovely it looked when it was still long. my desperation is starting to perfume the air in my shitty college dorm room. i'm silently suffering every time i shut my eyes in the dark and retreat to the reel of film i mentally recorded when i was happier. i selfishly hope the other person can think critically the way i think and come to the same conclusions i've come to and everything can go back to t...

it's still my favorite holiday

my 22nd valentine's day on Earth i'll have 22 more  and 22 more but each and every one will still be filled with love.

please remember to give yourself grace

recently, i've been coming up with excuses to hate myself. i thought closure was a right we were all entitled to. it's something expected psychologically. surely, human beings all have an unspoken agreement amongst ourselves to pass it along as a sign that we're all equals and we all respect each other and no one is as evil as evil can be. reality itself can look vastly different depending on whose eyes are viewing it. some people struggle to grasp it at all, even if it's sitting right in front of them, staring at them plainly and conspicuously and God himself is holding a bright red blinking arrow pointing to it directly. i feel like i've been choosing not to acknowledge it in hopes that things will change if i just think they will hard enough. sounds ridiculous, right? well, it is. ridiculousness will always be, and will never work. and i know this. so, i start to try and fill in the gaps and the blanks with a terrible narrative in hopes of cementing shut the ...

in actuality

my knuckles have become stiff and white. when i look down,  i realize what I'm grasping is nothing but dust.

hatred, guilt, and other pleasantries

i think we tend to run away when faced with guilt. to cope, all we can really do is look ahead, because we can only see things reflected into our iris. if we can't see our guilt, we can choose to believe that it subsequently can't see us, like children. but it can, because it takes its shape as the memory of another person. it catches up to us, anyways.  when i felt guilty, i'd never know what to do with myself. it's not tangible, so i can't release it from my arms and watch it slide down the trash deposit. but i can't stuff it somewhere deep and invisible either, because the mere action of doing that would force me to look it in the eye. i wished always to free it, even if it meant it'd flap its wings over my head. eventually, it would fly away, like most things do with time. that's not to say i was able to set my guilt loose every time. actually, i feel it caged within my heart, locked away so tightly that it constricts my ability to speak and turns my...

today i visited the bean

Image
a hallmark of chicago lives a double life in new york. i remember discovering it for the first time, on a cold winter's night, with a wonderful companion.  though it's not a timed tradition, i frequent my reflection from time to time, intrigued by the way it's changed right in front of me. today, it felt cold.  but i tried my best to stay warm.