a place to write your heart out. an open-ended invitation. anonymous submissions. it doesn’t have to make sense.
insecurities. inspirations. great hopes and even greater fears. memories and nightmares. moments that changed everything. friends that helped you dream of who you could be. moments we let slip away.
this is a place to write about it.
inspired by my friend kyla at pure nowhere :)
August 2026
JULY 2026
•
JULY 2026 •
you succeeded in killing a part of me
i miss loving you.
i don’t know why i
still remember
how you’d get
so fucking high
on the floor
of your room
all the time
teasing me
to stumble with you
into misplaced bitterness
and
i know you wanted to
keep me
but i’m a soft girl
and i don’t like to bite
the way u
want me to
sacrifice myself
for you
but i was too excited
to realize
i never really felt safe
to ask for anything
and i don’t think you know
what to do with someone
who just wants to feel safe too
but we’ve never really
been about us
bc we’ve always been about u
i remember
kissing
in the shower
when you short circuited
overstimulated
so i found your water bottle
and sat down next to you
until you felt ready
when the moment was right
you told me it was a new experience
for you
it was nice to be cared for
and i was surprised
and hugged you even longer
i loved the way it felt
i wished i could’ve sat next to u
on that bathroom floor
forever
melting into each other
two bodies pushed up against each other
before you pushed me away
in the aftertaste
of every
self-fulfilling prophecy
that guided us apart
hallucinating
north stars in the night
it’s hard to know when
you’re being lied to
when you’re lying to yourself
i don’t know how to convince you
it’s worth it to trust me
to trust yourself
holding you all night
but you never saw me
saw how much pain you caused me
it’s always been about you
until i’m
just someone
who used to know you
for a few months
till my sanity spilled
all over your
good intentions turned violent
turned i don’t recognize you anymore
and i wish
i’d forget about you
but i forget to eat
thinking about
the part of me you killed
last year
for a long time
and i feel nothing
anymore
just like the ghosts
pacing in the attic
circling the living
i used to feel safe
i thought
you knew me but
reality is fragile
when you get too close
like a spider spinning thread
hungry
waiting
to feed on
someone
they used to love
insecurities
break out
through your pores
disfigure
hands that used to love me
that cover my mouth
whisper in my ear and
behind my back
pin me up against the wall
i thought you loved me
but i’ll just be a blip
in your life
because there’s no room
to grow
between the weight
of what’s already dead
sometimes there is no future
no real good feeling
in running away from
the parts of yourself
you can’t see
can’t see
when you’re
holding the knife
wondering why
i’m not breathing
anymore
wondering
what’s wrong with me?
wondering
why can’t i hold you
like i used to?
won’t let me help you
let me love you
so let the wound fester
how lucky i am to be engulfed by you
don’t want to lose your grip,
hold me
underwater
until i can’t tell the difference
between texts and
panic attacks
you feel like
pouring alcohol inside of raw skin
purging
and burning and
i thought i knew you
i thought i would never let
something like this
happen to me
it feels like magic
to give yourself
to someone
to let you
touch my soul
until you’re pushing me away
slowly
killing a part of me
that loves you
until you’re
drowning
in your own poison
pleading with me
to stay
just long enough
until i reconsider.
NOVEMBER 2025
•
NOVEMBER 2025 •
songwriting
feels like opening a portal. try to take too much control of where you’re going and you’ll miss the best part. i’d never considered the impacts of colonization on our art-making practice before i met fariha róisín. in their writing workshops, i pondered what decolonizing our bodies and art and relationships could look like. in writing, i think it looks like learning to detach yourself from forcing things a certain way. it feels better to let go of any certainty. to reorient around the feeling. learning to spend more time with your body. to listen to what’s already there. to listen closer. it’s not about ego or anything really to do with what you think you want at the start. the best part is learning over and over to open yourself back up again and seeing what you find behind the curtain.
APRIL 2025
•
APRIL 2025 •
What do you see?
how many times
can i sink to the bottom of the ocean
burying old memories
my eyes are too swollen to see.
looking for pieces of myself
lost in the dirt.
my memory’s not what it used to be
and my heart
won’t stop
like i hoped it would.
my body is revolting.
forcing me to look at
the lines in my cheeks
that have deepened
from a decade spent
learning to abandon myself.
39 beats per minute
a gesture of loyalty.
sometimes my heart slows down so much
i become afraid.
i realize i don’t know if i still want it to stop
like i used to.
we walk around as if
somehow
we’ll be spared.
as if
somehow
we’ll have enough time. as if
somehow
we’ll be here forever.
but we won’t.
i hope we get to stay
for a while tho.
even on the strangest days.
just a little longer.
i hope we find something beautiful
in the mess that’s been made.
JANUARY 2025
•
JANUARY 2025 •
Where does your pain live? What soothes it? What does it taste like?
i always turn the lock.
heavy handed on the porcelain and
i look different from the stories i tell myself.
brutal honesty is hard to come by.
and the years i’ve spent holding myself underwater
are catching up with me now.
i wanna see what it looks like.
the skin that doesn’t know how to repair itself.
the fatigue under my eyes.
i need to know it was real.
isolation is a poison.
killing the host slowly.
crushing dissent,
disarming,
unspeakable,
incorruptible.
i was naive for giving it a home.
for letting it leech the soul from my body.
for thinking, somehow, after everything,
i wouldn’t be so fucking alone.
i’ve been looking in the mirror lately,
where my fears become tangible.
when we are face to face.
i only look for long enough
when i’m high.
when my defenses crumble.
it’s hard to throw your life away
without guilt,
or swollen cheeks.
but the walls are beginning to
break down,
from neglect,
and carelessness.
from survival.
i think often of
the ways in which i’m not good enough.
the words with which I set myself on fire.
the poison that is killing me.
the poison that is the cure.
DECEMBER 2024
•
DECEMBER 2024 •
What part of yourself did you lose this year? What did you find?
it feels good to say, “i’m here for you”
but it’s rare to open yourself back up again
without being attacked,
though we dream of being held.
sometimes i visit my mom at her apartment,
though not as often as i should.
she teaches me how to cook
while i ask her existential questions.
she tells me laughter is the key to happiness
and i ask her more questions.
i haven’t laughed in a long time.
laughed like i’m crying.
like life feels like a miracle.
like my best friend kissing me on a swing set at 4:00 am.
like really truly knowing someone.
i haven’t felt like laughing lately.
life became so raw.
and heartbreaking.
i wonder often if she’s right.
i’m in the hospital and my friends like to tell me to
“stay positive” but i’m having trouble.
i tell the receptionists that “it’s ok” when the specialist is booked.
i tell my friends not to worry while my aneurysm is getting worse.
when the medications aren’t helping with the pain.
when my doctors are lost for words.
while my body becomes irreparable.
they tell me to “hang in there”
and i have a good attitude
while i’m having a stroke.
a calm demeanor
when i lose my vision,
when the surgery fails.
losing a part of me that won’t come back.
when my surgeons tell me i’ll be better suited for a desk job.
while i make peace with my life ending so soon.
i let go of things that used to make me happy.
i stay positive when we talk about
amputation.
losing control over my entire body.
i can’t remember the last time i laughed
since the procedure failed.
since they denied my insurance.
collections is fiending to collect.
we receive another bill.
i see martyrs
on my phone.
in flames.
in Gaza,
i see zionists killing hospital patients.
and my blood thinners aren’t enough to stop the clotting in my arm,
but i’m out of network anyways.
and it seems all i’ve been doing is trying to stay positive, but
i’m exhausted.
from having my heart prodded
and stabbed as if it were invincible.
and i know everyone wants me to smile more,
but i can’t remember feeling close to someone
who really knows me.
it gets so fucking lonely
in my room,
in the gurney
in the OR
hallucinating off the oxy
on the bathroom floor,
at a party surrounded by all of my friends.
and i’m sorry that i’m not the same person i used to be.
that i don’t laugh as much anymore.
not like I used to.
i guess you could say i haven’t been feeling like myself lately.
