this is for the bitches who felt bad for inanimate objects, who started worrying about death before the age of 8, who paced the kitchen having an anxiety attack every day before school, who always asked before doing something harmless incase it somehow impacted someone else, who always asked to eat food or shower or sleep in their own home, who took hour long showers or baths and just dissociated only to not shower for a week because you hate the way it makes you feel, who was spoken to in the hallway outside of your classroom often, who wouldnt eat the food prepared for them because the texture was off, those same people who ate it anyway because youd get told "i spent money on this/i made this for you" and feel bad, who felt bad to say they didnt like something gifted to them, who changed their opinions to match the ones of everyone else around you, who grew up with people several years older than them, who learned how to cry silently at the age of 9, who developed sexual urges before the age of 12, who just wished something so bad would happen to them so their parents/loved ones would realize how much they actually loved them and feel bad, i see you. i love you. i feel you.
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***
Blythe Baird, If My Body Could Speak / Catherynne M. Valente, Comfort Me With Apples / The Mountain Goats, Riches and Wonders / Fiona Apple, Relay / Mandolin Orange, My Brother My Keeper / Esther Ming Li, shot by Jack Petarsky / Stephen Adly Guirgis, The Last Days of Judas Iscariot / Anne Carson, The Anthropology of Water / ? / Jennifer's Body, Hole / John Batho, Present & Absent
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Heart and Soul, Joy Division
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Reflection. The past never leaves. Just as it were back then, as it’s always been, I am too scared to reveal my true thoughts. I wonder what exactly it is which I am afraid of.
December is a time for reflecting. The year seems surreal.
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Nothing Gold Can Stay, Robert Frost
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Do you think of all the things that should have been said? The different possible paths which splinter out from each decision and indecision? If you were only fearless in these moments, and more fearful in the others…
The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
Cat’s Cradle, Kurt Vonnegut
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Separation, Edvard Munch // Isolation, Joy Divison
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Regret. How many things would be different? How much better could my life be, or at least, have been?
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A day well spent with my closest friends. Christmas Eve. We had fun, which we hadn’t given ourselves in a long time. So glad to see you all again.
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Daffodowndilly, A.A. Milne
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