back, but not necessarily better

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 hello, blogspot world.

i am happy to report i am reverting BACK to you. substack gave me the heebie-jeebies. 

i took a hiatus for about a month, mainly because i had nothing to write about. it was nice, believe it or not. i felt caged to my thoughts. writing has always served as my outlet and my escape, but for the first time in a while, i wasn't running away from anything.

but good things can never last, and the stillness of my body seems to have vanished. 

i won't call this relapse, but maybe...regression.

there is plenty to be said, as long as i'm not too exhausted to say it.

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neglect

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i'm trying to be a little off-the-cuff here, and i'm not sure if i'll be able to succeed. i haven't been able to write anything for a while now, and i wonder if it's simply because i'll have to face truths the second i hear the keys start to click. i've been growing out my fingernails for a month. they make my maneuvers clunky and awkward and slow. my fingernails look so beautiful in their envy, but they stop me from pushing forward. i now live in fear that something will make them snap or snag or chip. i'll have to cut them off and wait for them to grow again. but i like them now, because they're long. and maybe they mean something more. they might be the only part of me that's grown besides my cheeks. i think i'm getting a little fat. perhaps i'm becoming more of a woman. i'm packing up a life i've lived and come home to for 22 years now, still unearthing things from decades prior. picking them up stings my throat as the dust co...
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three months later

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i haven't exactly shyed away from talking about this to anyone in real life, so i figured i'd take a crack at writing about it in my shielded bubble of a blog. if you're reading this, thank you for stopping by, even if the space seems small and subsequently intimate. sometimes, i feel like i'm indulgent. maybe incredibly so. my heightened emotional subjection clearly supports this claim, where little wins become triumphs and reality checks become devastations. despite the actual mundanity of my life, i tend to see the world as this grand, beautiful place where so much good is to be given and discovered and cherished. i look for the best in people and places and experiences. i'm rarely disappointed, but when it inevitably happens, it crushes me. not because something bad happened, but because i come to believe i deserved it. a moment where i spoke or held my tongue between my teeth has now cost me the right to give good and be good and receive good. i'm devastate...
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there's a stark difference between acknowledgement and action

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sometimes, like other human beings on Earth, i feel a separation pulling my brain from my skull to float above the rest of my body. i'm entirely out of my own, almost like a birdseye lens on a camera. i am both a king and his jester. she looks like rot; haggard and vaporous. it's not necessarily contentment, unless that's synonymous with defeatedness.  there really isn't much that can be done here. so i just watch, marking a star on my calendar for Judgement day.
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