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“I have nothing planned?” “What’s nothing look like to you?”

The church plays music on the hour. The sun projects bright orange blocks on the wall. The french bulldog vinyl is for a bank, and the green sign is for soda. When I step back from checking off lists, I find these occurrences are so much more precious to me. 

Walked to school back then. Periodic days my backpack would plunge into my stomach in rhythm with my steps. I joked I was pregnant. Returning home looked the same.

I haven’t been writing “officially” lately; i’m exhausted, overstimulated, and disappointed in myself. Notes app is full, though. 

The farm and the studio were spaces i never second guessed myself. I don’t have either in the same capacity anymore. 

Stimulation is wired into my brain as a threat. I can’t remedy the sensation in my brain, so I scream out in pain. 

FOMO is pretty hardwired into me. It reaches my veins through self-inflicted needles. I don’t even go to bed the times I want to. I don’t honor my feelings or boundaries. I’m a pushover most days and cry if you raise your voice at me regardless of the emotion turning the dial. More often than not, I shrivel in confrontational settings. You’ll say what you have to, and I’ll stay silent — probably for days — agreeing with you. I think everything is my fault but never really own up to my actions. 

Day to day, I’m scared of myself. Intrusive thoughts assassinate my sanity. Maybe I really will become all of those things. Or say all of that shit. Or hurt all of those people. Or endanger myself. Sometimes I wish ultimate pain upon myself because then nobody is a threat to me. As of now, I walk around my life with simultaneous bliss, awe, and intense fear. 

Got a new job and a new apartment in one week. It’s May all over again. And I think i’m tired. I used to think about how to get out of my situation. Things have changed, and now my concern is to build everything out but better. This has moved slower. My mouth has been quieter.

I can’t wait to be older. I wish to be no closer to death, however.