whether they’ve known me for years, a month, or even just days.

whether they know my struggles and what is going on in my life, or not.

It’s almost mind bending how many selfless acts, or inconvenient favors I’ve had done for me this last month.

whether I asked, or didn’t.

They were mostly done spontaneously, no questions asked.

I am going to list mot of them here, as I want to remember them forever, but also to show that community is there if you let it be, or look for it.

whether you had it last month, or not.

I spontaneously texted my friends on a Thursday afternoon with no real heads up. I said I was leaving and hoped to be gone within hours with everything I could bring with me, if possible.

Within three hours, everything I could bring with me was packed, and most of it was loaded into a friend’s car to be hauled to their place and a storage unit that was rented for me.

So, in the first week, I had

• 3 friends showing up no notice with helping hands and a car.

• multiple friends help me store my things at their place(s) and a friend rented me a storage unit to safely store my things.

• and I slept on three different couches. Each, a safe and loving place to land temporarily.

Those first three were arguably the most stressful. I didn’t initially know what I’d be able to bring with me, where I’d put any of it, and where my dog and I would go— when I decided to start packing and leave that day.

These were done by close friends I already had but if you re in a situation in which you need to leave and you’ve been isolated without anybody left, you still have options, and I want you to know people make that work, too.

• they made me home-made meals, supplied me showers, towels, and laundry loads.

Eating was hard, but nothing had ever tasted so yummy. #shoutoutfransisco

• transporting the stuff I kept from the storage unit to my new place.

• keeping me company. taking me to fun events, or doing the mundane with me.

After the first week, I developed an injury (from sudden activity change/increase) and I couldn’t walk, really at all.

SO, the list goes on as follows

• an internet friend I’ve had a few years sent me money so I could instacart myself groceries, or buy myself food.

• I met someone that drove me to the grocery store and shopped with me (day 2 of our friendship!)

• one of my best friends instacarted me something to help my injury

• one of my best friends took me on multiple thrifting trips hunting for basic necessities.

• lots of dogsitting!

• an internet friend I just made maybe a week or two prior sent me money to help keep me on my feet (off my feet!)

• someone local I met a few days prior asked if i needed furniture (they had extra) and rented a uhaul to bring it all to me (???) she didn’t even know I needed furniture or what I was going through when she asked.

• More yummy meals and quality time from my angels.

Every day, the list grows, and I am thrown by the love I am receiving. And again, many of these people, I just met, and didn’t/don’t know my situation. The universe works in mysterious ways and I can’t wait until I’m in a place where I can give back and pass it on.

whether that’s to those who have been helping me, or to those in need that I’ve not met yet.

I have also been working my butt off for myself, and doing what I can. It hasn’t been easy, but it has been worth the work.

I have three jobs/employers now and I work almost every day. Partly because I need to, but also to keep myself busy as time passes. Spending time alone in an empty apartment just wasn’t the move and I didn’t know what to do with myself. Now that I have a desk again and can use my computer, it’s easier, but I’m still packing my schedule as I was before…

On my off time, I go down my to do list and knock off as much as I can. (ie, going to doctors appointments, signing up for foodstamps, healthcare, doing errands, etc.)

I’ve also been writing, painting and taking pictures like nobody’s business. Art is a huge outlet for me right now, but it’s also where I’ve been wanting it to be for years now— I have consistent creation and documentation.

On top of it all, I’ve been taking care of my health and preparing for life in ways I don’t usually. I am taking care of myself first and foremost— making sure I’m ready for all of my commitments. I feel like historically, a lot of things go ill-prepared or procrastinated, so to make sure I prep ahead of time for each potential need has been really fun and helpful to my overall success and wellbeing. Especially since I am working a shift/day.

Lastly, I’m letting myself cry and sob and be messy when I need or want to be. Life is too short not to do and say what you want, when they are at least reasonably safe choices… Does that make sense?

There is no guide to life and your choices are yours. Be safe, take care of yourself, but don’t be scared to do things that people will see as messy, dramatic, or “too soon.”

It’s your life and you deserve to handle it your way.

Maybe one day I’ll make my own guide on how to leave, or how I left/what got me there/here, but for now, enjoy the freshness of it all.

p.s. apps are stupid and scary, but also… they’ve been a great way to make friends and reach community (for me.)

Be unconventional and think outside the box when you need to!

BELLA

I had left many times in some way. I’m not sure I could even recall each individual time at this point.

From breaking up while I was on vacation, to leaving while he was out and sleeping on couches for days before going back, because those were not the couches that committed to me being their burden and I felt guilty for taking up space.

I tried everything— Ways to leave, ways to stay.

Tomorrow marks one month of really being out of it, although it has felt like at least nine.

The first week was almost pure bliss and my friends really pulled through for me (they still are) despite how little time I’d gotten to spend with them in recent years before leaving. They have showed me unconditional love and support, as they always have. Even when I stayed. Even when they told me to leave, and I stayed.

You might be wondering why I left, but there was not one or two reasons. There were hundreds. I usually say there were 3000, but hundreds, is probably more so around the right number.

I don’t really want to dwell on why I left, why I stayed, or why I was there in the first place. I have many regrets, but I am choosing to take them as learned lessons.

Something I’ve learned is that I really do need to prioritize myself, my wants and my needs— My individuality. I do better on my own, at least for now.

I got married really quickly, and I honestly— just got lovebombed, swept up and didn’t trust my gut or myself in general.

I’m sharing this because if I want you to take something out of my experience so to not replicate my experience, because it is truly a dangerous one.

I want you to trust yourself. Trust your gut. Take your time. If you’re confused about if you want to be in it or not, that’s not a good place to be. Don’t just be there to be somewhere. Transitions are hard, but being alone is better than being with someone you don’t feel (emotionally, physically, or mentally) safe with.

Your body, your heart and your nervous system deserve peace— With your partner, in your home, and in general.

I’ve always known, really. I just didn’t want to see it.

I hate to say it, but it’s freeing, if nothing else.

From the age of two, I wanted that fairytale love. To find someone to laugh with, to love, to share a life with. When I found someone who said they wanted to give me that, I let them. Despite despite despite.

The older I’ve gotten, the less I’ve believed in the love I’ve always craved. I wish that weren’t true, but I really held on for longer than I would’ve expected after everything I’ve gone through in relationships.

When I was 15, I was raped and then my first boyfriend told me that the love I wanted doesn’t exist. Brutal combo. Really kicked me while I was down.

All that to say, I’ve held both of those things with me since then. The sentiment that it isn’t about what I want, and that what I’ve wanted doesn’t even exist.

I’ve been trapped in a vicious cycle of prioritizing other people and experiencing violence and I would like to be done now. I think I finally learned my lesson. May the world’s worst men stop coming to my door, but that also means I need to see them for who they are when they show me and discontinue their invitation into my life. I’m not blaming myself, but I cannot continue giving access to those who don’t deserve anyone if they are going to show up like that.

Regardless, I hope to keep showing up with love — To love with my whole heart, but to bake cookies and give my patience only to those who deserve it.

All my love,

Bella (Lilith)

Thinking about the poems

I could’ve written— The poems I miss(ed).

<3

Every poem not written

is a poem lost in time.

<3

I don’t want to let

these moments pass me by.

IsabellaRaine

Life goes by regardless of what you do, or don’t.

I try to capture as many moments as I can

through photographs, paintings, or poetry.

Art solidifies the feeling, the moment, the memory.

It’s a scary and vulnerable thing to do,

as many of them are just

brief moments in time.

IsabellaRaine

we were artists.

Not even lovers,

but creative muses

sharing our passion.

i.r.

<3

You’re still ruining me. 8,9,10 years later,

but is it really you that did this? Should I blame myself?

Who is responsible for ruining me?

i.r.

<3

I probably should’ve blocked you

before I deleted your number.

To let that be the last time.

Although, It’s possible you won’t reach out either,

and we’ll have broken the cycle—

after who knows how many rotations.

I’d actually be surprised if you ever called

with the way that I left it.

I burned that bridge like I always have.

i.r.

I was 15 and cutting my hair wasn’t enough anymore. I was hung up on being blonde, and desperately wanted to escape the identity that came with it. Not the “dumb blonde” stereotype, but the fact that every girl my ex dated after me was like a copy, paste.

After having my heart broken by a boy who clearly has a thing for blondes, and immediately thereafter assaulted by someone else, I decided it was time to dye my hair. I chose purple, but only the ends, because I was pursuing a legal case and needed to be able to cut it off to avoid the stigma that came with dyed hair if I ended up in a court setting.

It was a flex, honestly. His confession to the police, that is. I saw it as a huge win when I got the call, but what I didn’t know, was that a confession meant nothing with some money and a little power. It’s all corrupt, and I watched the world I thought I knew crumble.

The light in me drained as I listened to the DA make up a bunch of BS reasons for not taking the case. She told me, if nothing else, it would be really hard for me emotionally to go through the legal process and watch the jury decimate any part of me or my story they didn’t like. I knew that going into it, obviously.

I stood up at that long table, where my support system sat across from the attorneys, and I went off. I yelled at her and told her that should be my choice to make and isn’t a valid reason to HER to dismiss a r*pe charge (with a confession on file!) and that she will not be part of the solution by dismissing cases for her own stupid ass reasons or opinions. I get that’s her job, but this felt so wrong. That part was supposed to be my decision. I gave it to her for at least several minutes, but it’s mostly a blur at this point.

When I was done, she said, “Nobody’s ever stood up to me like that before. I am proud of you.” Given she hadn’t changed her mind, I told her that doesn’t mean shit to me. I did love that at 15, I was the first person to give her it to her straight like that.

I don’t take shit sitting down.

I later heard through the grapevine that she was paid off. Or rather, that she’s known to be paid off.

Shocker.

I offered to do more investigating, and find other victims/survivors that wanted to go down this path with me, but I decided it was too much to ask anybody else to join that fight. Despite knowing of others with the same experience.

For the rest of high school, I cut and dyed my hair this or that color— purple, blue, brown— while doing a lot of peer education on sexual abuse and healthy relationships on and off campus. Eventually, he switched schools to spend his senior year in Hawaii, because he was tired of being known as a rapist.

Cry me a fucking river.

I continued to throw protests, gave speeches at community events & forums, I designed and distributed a shirt to raise awareness, and informational fliers in hopes my peers would avoid the same fate as me, have more supportive friends, or give them the courage to speak out.

Maybe I’ll talk more about my work as an advocate in high school, but this isn’t really about all that. It’s about spending the next 8 years avoiding this part of me. The fire, if nothing else.

Blah blah blah— after taking a gap year, I went off to community college with hopes to leave everything behind. It hadn’t really been my plan to go to college after that night sophomore year, but I was determined to leave for any and all reasons. I made it six months before Covid hit, and I had to move back.

Another six months, and I got my heart broken. Bad.

I realized in watching people that left, or went off to college during that time, that I wasn’t doing anything. Given, it was lockdown primetime and there wasn’t much to do anyway if you were committing to the isolation part of it all.

Since graduating high school and leaving most of my advocacy work behind, socializing was one of my biggest hobbies. Now that I didn’t much have the option, I was content sleeping all day, then watching tv and gaming all night. This was until I realized I left all my hobbies and dreams behind. Besides writing and gaming. I decided that I was going to create a fuller version of myself, as I struggled with identifying with anything other than surviving.

So I ordered some crappy roller skates, but broke my scaphoid on day one, because I didn’t wait for the protective gear. I was eager to get back to it, but I was highly encouraged not to get back on skates for a few months.

So I went back to playing Fortnite ~with one hand and a minimal second thumb~ for a while. My duos were only mad when I got eliminated until I revealed I was wearing an arm-to-thumb cast.

Otherwise, I started painting, taking more photos, dressing up intentionally, and gave myself some curtain bangs off a youtube tutorial. I also continued writing, playing video games, and of course, crying. Something I did daily since the beginning of high school.

I shaved my head in the spring while embracing being comfortable with just me, until it felt amazing. I was determined to shift where I was and how I felt about myself, so I decided that in due time, I’d leave the country, too.

After a year or so of being this new, Isabella 2.0, I did. Although in the end, I was still just running. Finding solace in being far away from everything I hated, but also everything I loved. I was still incredibly heartbroken and hellbent on getting over it. Leaving the country was supposed to put an impossible distance between us. A reason I’d feel meant it wouldn’t and couldn’t happen, no matter what. Something I didn’t have a work around for in my head.

Sorry if you’re reading this— lmfao.

My time is Canada taught me a lot, and it didn’t last as long as I had hoped (for reasons I’m not getting into right now), but I remember it very fondly. This is despite the deep depression I put myself in after leaving everyone I knew and loved behind while tapering to lower doses of my medications.

I learned that 999.6 miles is far enough to mostly forget the pain from where you’re from, but far enough to grow an unfamiliar one.

The first month or so was static bliss. I felt safe for the first time in so many years— Both personally, and in general. I had done it. I left it all behind. I escaped my roots and my reality. I told myself it would be different.

I spent my time walking around the city blasting my ears with music, painting from dusk until dawn, eating the best food I’d ever had, writing, taking pictures, crying, and trying new things. I believe this was when I went to my first drag show and gay club, and it was everything I was missing. The sense of community, the music, the vibes, and of course the tension between me and a cute girl that I’m pretty sure was waiting for me to make a move, but I lacked the courage.

The grass was greener on the other side of the border, but I couldn’t escape the fact that I was running from myself and my feelings.

As you’d imagine, I have regretted coming back to the states almost every moment of the last 3 and a half years, but am ultimately glad I did, as I met my spouse a year after I came back, when I ran away (again) to Portland. Since then, I’ve moved over a dozen times. Within the city, and back and forth between different ones.

I’m always leaving, finding a new reason to leave, and following through with it. I’ve been chasing the idea of safety and security, but I was looking at it wrong, I think. Or rather, it hadn’t been enough time to feel that way where I was supposed to already.

Home should’ve always been my safe place, but it had been stolen from me when I was 15. Earlier than some, later than many. It took ten years for me to sit in this house and not feel trapped inside of my worst memories. None of it feels the way it did, but this feels like a home again.

I still dream of running away, and imagine that I will again some day, but not because I’m running from myself, as I intend very heavily to discontinue that habit— among others.

As much as leaving the place of your traumas is helpful, running isn’t really what I’ve found most helpful, or how I spent my favorite years of adulthood. I’m happiest embracing who I am as a whole, rather than bits and pieces in different places.

Isabella Raine (Lilith)

<3

note:

These are all larger stories I’d love to dive into deeper this year, on top of the many that are missing within.

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I yelled to the ends of the earth that I was leaving everything behind, and I did. My belongings went to goodwill and I ran an almost perfect 1000 miles away. It was simultaneously the most beautiful time of my life, and the loneliest I’ve ever felt. It no longer felt like the world was ending, but that I was. This made for months painting from sunset to sunrise– which turns out not to be very long in the Canadian Rockies.

999.6 miles happens to be enough to mostly forget the pain from where you’re from, but far enough to grow an unfamiliar one. I will likely regret for a bit longer that I didn’t hold on through the pain of being alone on my journey. Sometimes It still feels like I fucked up what could’ve been the best thing I ever did for myself.

Isabella Raine Rose

Something I wrote for class ^^^^^

Something I wrote for myself vvvvv

CW— Suic1dal Ideation

I often want to run.

Not like down the block and around the corner,

but away— like forever.

I want to throw away my phone

and disappear into beautiful scenery

where nobody knows my name

and I can’t be found.

And when I don’t want to run, I try not to jump.

Not like off a bridge,

but also like, off a bridge.

The impulses are high and mighty,

but I try not to do anything too permanent these days.

The kind of decisions I can’t take back,

or get out of.

Like DMs that would ruin my life and put me in danger.

When I’m not thinking about running,

or jumping,

I’m often very happy,

and want very much to be seen.

When I don’t want to be seen,

I want to be heard.

The problem is there isn’t really an in-between.

Everything either feels perfect, or fucking ruined.

If nothing else, I am a runner.

Isabella Raine Rose

don’t worry, if you can help it.

There comes a point in the fall that feels like impulsive DMs and self-sabotage.

It’s the point where I become overwhelmed with all the questions, and feelings I have, when really, what would “answers” do for me? The unknown is hard, that’s all I really know.

At what point can you just swallow the pill and live differently?

Sometimes I feel like it takes way too long for me to get through something, and sometimes it feels like I just won’t. For me the problem with just ignoring it all feels like I’m suppressing myself. It feels like not taking any action on it is just delaying the inevitable. Maybe I just need to tell myself, “not yet” until I die and then it’ll just have been something I lived with.

I kinda hate that though.

I guess it’s grief. Something that doesn’t necessarily get easier, but something you learn to live with and grow around. I just wouldn’t say I’m doing that right now.

Depending on you you ask, and what day it is, I think you you could say I’m doing really well, but sometimes it feels like I’m a moment or two from ruin. I guess we’re all a moment or two from ruin, but maybe not in all the same ways.

For me, it’d be mental ruin. They’re decisions that would be kinda small in a sense, but it’d be months and months of emotional and mental recovery.

Maybe I’m just feeling emotional and heavy, but it feels kinda ingenuine to make only “the right” choices. Do you know what I mean? It’s almost suffocating not to act on emotion, at least sometimes.

I guess trauma lasts a long time, and there’s no easy closure. It all feels kinda open-ended, I guess.

When there’s no justice, it feels like it can’t just all be over. I hate when it feels like it exists only in my head. That it’s a silent battle in my head, and nowhere else.

If you haven’t figured it out, I usually write when I feel like making choices that others would deem, “not the move.” I’m basically replacing what I want to do that’s based on emotion with working through all my thoughts. Often it doesn’t take long for me to not resonate with it anymore. Although, there are things I’ve been pushing off for nearly a decade, and things I think will last another. I think those are the things that really need to be addressed.

I like living my day to day life quietly— It’s peaceful, but I think I need to be louder sometimes. I do blast my thoughts online like people don’t read them, but I mean much louder than just my vague daily thoughts and feelings on a blog.

Living quietly often feels like they win, because maybe I’m just scared to live in the open (again, I mean more irl than blasting on my blog). I don’t owe anyone my side of the stories people spread, but I think I owe it to myself to put them out there. Putting them out there is scary, but not putting them out there is suffocating.

It’s probably a blessing to not care about feeling heard, but I care very deeply.

For little me.

Isabella

I moved to Portland two years ago today. When I got here, I was single, working as a barista, living in a studio apartment that was maybe 200 square feet MAX. Just enough room for my bed, a counter with a fridge, and a bathroom that was weirdly spacious. I call it my shoebox apartment, and I actually loved it dearly. It encouraged me to spend a lot of time outside, with friends, and going to events. It was also very cozy and the walls were thoroughly decorated which I enjoyed.

Today I live in a beautiful one bedroom with my spouse and our dog, while I go to college for creative writing, because it’s my dream to be an author/artist full time. As well as my health having declined so much that I cannot work a normal job. We only recently found the cause to be Systemic Lupus and any kind of large treatment is still months out from now. Every day is another medical story I realize was caused by my Lupus.

It’s safe to say that every moment since I got here was a transition into or out of something. I am now hoping for a bit less change and to have a standstill moment. Even just a few months where my life didn’t change drastically would be great. Change and growth IS welcome, but maybe what I’m asking is for housing and financials/jobs to be consistent. Although that’s asking a lot in 2025.

Leaving where I grew up was life changing. My PTSD improved dramatically, and I embraced life in a way I never really had before. Always going out, meeting people and making friends wherever, trying new things and expressing myself deeply in art and relationships.

I’ve learned a lot about myself since October 2023, as I’ve really pushed myself to expand my horizons and go out of my comfort zone. There are also things I’m still trying to figure out after having moved here, but I feel like I’m close. Obviously the rest of my life, I will learn new things about myself and figure it out, but I’m talking about things I’ve pinpointed and grown into since I moved. Things I don’t think I would have ever have guessed for myself. Weird how that goes.

Isabella

in the small town where people

would rather sweep it all under the rug

than give the community care needed.

Although secretly, they love to talk about it

To their own understanding

from what he says

while they’re sitting around the dinner table.

I am deranged

for thinking they would understand rape

in the context of their own little bubble town

Where he would never.

He could never.

But he would, did, and has.

I was not the first, nor was I the last.

He will live a legacy of violence,

and I will make that very clear.

I am crazy

for “still caring about what some dumb guy

did to me in highschool”

God forbid a girl talks about, or is affected by,

the violence she experienced in her formative years.

I will never forget all the things I heard

about my own story

I will never forget all the comments on instagram

where I was shamed and blamed by my peers at best.

<3 Bella

If you think I don’t dream of you— I do, and it's usually the same plot for each of my regulars. It depends how it all ended— whether that be with heartbreak, betrayal or a more subtle distancing.

Some of my Regulars—

• My longest lasting girl best friend from high school, we drifted weirdly and I don’t have the courage to reach out. I’m terrified she hates me.

• My roommate from 2024 that ended in lots of tears, lying and betrayal. These are usually nightmares.

• My guy best friend from sophomore year, but things got complicated… We were supposed to catch up and have some ice cream in 2020 to reconcile, but he drifted off. I never truly got to explain, but I’m not sure he’d react how I’d need or want.

• My first boyfriend (ew). I don’t understand why I dream of him, but I think he symbolizes my innocence and childhood. He’s everything i experienced before experiencing traumas that have lasted a decade since.

• Two friends I thought I’d never lose, but it’s probably better this way. In my dreams, we hang out as if we never stopped.

• A guy I saw/dated on and off with that made a large impact.

• Some guy from years 6-12 I talked to like maybe twice. He usually saves me from whatever disaster is going on. I have no idea why this is his role. I think he’s a symbol of safety. I really don’t know about this one, guys.

There are lots of others, but we don’t have to get much into my nightmares/terrors today.

OKAY! CAUTION :)

mentions of SA/SV and the aftermath, etc.

I hold a lot of regrets, or something like regret, when it comes to people from the past. Mostly I just wish I still had more people from my childhood/teenage-hood around, but to be frank, being ass*ulted and r*ped by another student(…) in highschool and everyone knowing is kind of ostracizing. There are few people I still have in my life in any way from before 2020. It’s better this way for the most part. I don’t need any extra walking reminders of my traumas, but I’d definitely make exceptions for a few of them.

I used to cut and run, so I try not to anymore, because I don’t want the same to be true for my twenties. I want to still have bridges to people I love and know now in ten years. That’s unavoidable sometimes, some people just have to be left behind, but i think if it’s less than a necessity, I’d love to grow with the people around me.. Even if it’s complicated, and less than perfect.

DBT taught me not to be so black and white. That creating and maintaining of friendships is important short term and long term. I don’t always need to block and delete when I’m feeling hurt and triggered.

I hold a lot of love and comfort in people who have let me make mistakes and be anything but perfect and still stuck around. The patience is incredibly impressive for some of them. I think it’s increasingly important to let people grow from their past mistakes and behaviors. I’m not saying that for myself, but for those in my life, really.

Although there are some obvious no no’s, too. Things I don’t believe we can come back from, or “get over.” Sexual/domestic violence are black and white and I don’t need anyone telling me it’s a, “gray area” ever again. Fuck off to ya’ll forever.

To those who know anything about this kind of pain.

My whole heart is with you.

It was never your fault, and being the perfect victim/survivor does not exist. Our actions before, during and after this trauma will never change the compassion we deserve.

Fuck off to those who blame you, shame you, or make you feel like it was your fault in any capacity. The blame and the shame should always lay on the perpetrators and oppressors.

All that being said, to those who have been lost, or are in the gray area of my life—

I want you to know I miss you.

(if you ever see this.)

<3 Isabella (Lilith)

#fuckspotify

It’s Friday and I’ll probably spend the day sleeping— dreaming more of our apocalypse in different fonts.

It’s almost fall now, and I’m preparing for the nat/ional guard to be deployed in my city on its own people.

It’s 2025 and the world is burning with hatred and pain.

It’s 2025 and the world is burning with love and compassion for a better and safer future for all.

It’s almost fall now and I can feel the coziness of the weather cooling down, a good chai, and friendship.

It’s Friday and I will spend it building community in my new building and neighborhood.

It’s 3am and although it all feels like too much, I am still here— trying to find a way through. Not just for myself, but for all of us.

Different realities, but all the same, really.

It’s hard to know how to feel.

Scared. Lucky. Hopeless. Happy. Angry. Lost.

Sometimes that means I don’t write, or share, but I would like to try.

<3 Isabella (Lilith)

Oct. 6. 25— I redownloaded tiktok. My b

As summer ends, the idea of snow grows closer.

When I think snow, I think of my insides. I think blood and vomit.

Maybe I’ve seen too many winter themed horror movies. Maybe I’ve lived too many winter horrors.

Winters featuring parts of me that were meant to remain unseen untouched.

>

There is no growth to be seen during a snowstorm.

Everything is put on pause, as warmth and life whittle away.

There’s usually accelerated growth afterward,

but that is only if you survive the winter.

<

It all has a way of sticking around after the snow melts.

Everything looks a little different,

but you can sort of imagine how it looked before.

Although nothing ever looks, or feels the same as it did.

And in time, you forget there was any other way to see— or feel.

Perspective is everything. Maybe that’s what I lost that day.

The perspective of a child that felt safe with others.

When she felt warm hands, and everything went cold.

Lilith

of thoughts to think, or feelings to feel.

That my life will become boring or consistent

in a way that I wouldn’t have anything to say about it.

~

For the last few years,

I’ve begged for consistency,

but I, myself, am anything but.

<3 Lilith

August 18th, 2025

My doctor said I may have some sort of identity or self-worth crisis when we decided I’m a lot healthier without a job, and I’m afraid he was right.

It’s been 3 weeks since I quit my job. It was partly for health related issues, partly for management being mean about my health related issues, and partly to pursue my dream of being an author and an artist as a job.

I was statically happy for the first 18 days. It was day 19 that all music started to sound the same again. Days started blending together, and hope seems to have left my body.

It was day 17 my therapist and I had the grand idea of going back to an early childhood education degree and becoming a nanny again, because It’s the only job I really know how to love and keep.

But maybe that idea wasn’t so grand.

Four days have passed and I have no prospects. Usually it only takes a couple days to have a few.

I’m not sure If I’m just feeling discouraged, or if I’m just not resonating with it anymore. I realized that in the last four days, I was so excited about an income of my own that I forgot about my dreams again.

It’s day 21 and I’m thinking more back along the lines of a literary internship and preparing myself to self publish a collection of poems. Realistically, I just need to stop venturing out from my dream. It’s just hard to not fantasize about having a normal income immediately.

Now that I think about it, I quit the job I had when I was 18 to work on publishing a book of poetry. I’m 25 now, and although I feel closer than ever, that’s a little rough to realize.

That’s seven years where I prioritized a biweekly, usually low-wage income over everything I knew I wanted. It’s hard being broke, but it gets harder as time goes on and I keep switching between making progress in capitalism and making progress in my own wants and dreams. Realistically, I’ve not gotten anywhere in my career goals because I can’t stick with something. Just ONE thing. I always try to do both, and it never works for me. I just don’t have that much in me.

<3 Lilith

Taking the hard classes, getting straight A’s, and into some prestigious college was the least of my concerns after my freshman year of high school.

I’d say It was never me to care about being valedictorian and getting a ‘regular job’ out of college, but I’d be lying.

There was a time I cared about what I think of now as more traditional, or superficial things, for lack of a better word.

I just couldn’t be bothered in seeing the immense value in a system that rewards grades, oppressors and wealth above safety and community care once i was keyed in.

I’ve held art and community above grades and capitalism forever now.

Education is important, absolutely, but that feels like a separate thing than good grades in schooling, to me.

<3

It occurs to me now that people are jealous of me for what I have. What they don’t realize is that I put my heart and soul into this result for over a decade.

Whether it was finding the love of my life & getting married young, or knowing who I am, what I wanna do and living authentically.

I can’t say it’s been easy, but I’ve almost never been interested in pretending to be someone I’m not, and in prioritizing in any other way.

<3

As I’m nearing 25, I can hear people having the realization that I’ve been prioritizing well, when maybe that wasn’t the perception before.

I’ve lost friends and relationships to prioritizing careers that take them away from the things they love only to realize they wish they would’ve prioritized staying closer to loved ones after graduating and having the job pool suck so bad that they cant get a good job either way. No hate to them though and I respect the choices they made, but it was hard losing them! Additionally, sometimes I wish people could see they don’t have to do something they hate for capitalism’s sake when they could be pursuing things they love <3

Again, though, both valid choices— Our passions don’t need to become work, and we don’t have to love our work to love our life.

We live in a hard time, and I don’t think there’s necessarily anything wrong in prioritizing college and a career path that makes sense to you, but I wish we all held safety, love, and community care a little higher than we did/do.

I see a shift in people seeing that, but I wish it could’ve happened sooner, as I believe the violence and loss could have been prevented.

So when it comes to ambition in my life— I’d say it was ambitious of me to prioritize relationships and getting married in my early 20’s. I’d say it was ambitious of me to spend high school trying to educate my peers on consent and intimate partner violence, or SV, when almost everyone was pushing back. It was ambitious of me to pursue charges, and encourage/push my high school to fix their policies.

These days, my ambitions lay in my career, but not a traditional 9-5. I want to self publish collections of my art/writing, and be a full time artist while creating content online. I think I have paved the way for myself to be successful and I am very excited. I know I can do it.

<3 Lilith

p.s. don’t forget to live your truth.

I used to feel like an open book. There’s nothing I would’ve really hesitated to say if it was my truth.

I couldn’t resonate with the feeling of not asking the questions I wanted to ask, or saying the things I wanted to say— Given it was something I was feeling, or really passionate about.

I was authentically me with no second thought, usually.

These days, I resonate a bit too uncomfortably with the feeling of not being able to get things from my head out my mouth.

I’m terrified of saying things that will change my reality, even if I already know them to be true.

It’s also very possible everyone already knows the truths I don’t speak, as the people in my life generally know me more than I realize.

Nevertheless, I’m in uncharted territory and it’s uncomfortable.

I’m encountering problems, or rather- parts of life, that I never expected to.

Although I’m happy and figuring out how to live as my truest self— probably more quickly than most, this weight on my shoulders is starting to dig at me.

<3 Lilith

8.10.25 Sunday

I’ve known what I want to do with my life for years. After a lot of trial and error, doubt, shame, and just straight up quitting, I think these roots will be the ones I stick with and nurture attentively.

I’ve been writing about my life as an outlet forever, and for at least five years, I’ve known that I want to turn my life experiences into writing and art to aid those who may feel alone in their own thoughts or lives.

There were many years that I felt alone, or exceedingly hopeless, and what I want is basically to show people that it can get better.

What made life better for me?

After finding a medication regimen that balanced out my brain chemistry a bit more, I did a few things.

From picking up rollerskating outside as a hobby to change the way I viewed myself, to completing a DBT program, and finding people I loved who made me feel seen, heard, and respected. On top of all of that, sharing my life experiences with those who can resonate, or even those who can’t, changed a lot for me.

I want to be a walking example that you can start at the bottom of the depression (etc) barrel, and come out with a beautiful life that you are excited to live.

Of course, some days, or even months, I fall back into a rut, but for the most part, I’m still happy with my day to day life.

Sure, there are things I want that I’m working toward, or don’t have, but I’ve created a life of little moments that make me feel fulfilled in the grand scheme of things.

DBT taught me that it’s all about creating a life you want to be living.

So…

• I vision boarded the life I wanted on Pinterest.

• I started roller skating in the streets with music that made me feel seen.

• I started painting just for myself, on top of making collages.

• I shaved my head, dyed my hair, grew it back out, found a hairstyle I liked.

• I started wearing eyeliner and I dressed myself up every day with clothes I picked.

• I moved to Canada, just to try it, really.

• I came back, and found somewhere new that I loved.

• I found new people I loved that weren’t associated with my past, or trauma.

• I started to go out dancing.

and here I am.

I live in a dingy little studio, I need new roller skates, and I don’t always have money for the things that I want, but I have learned that life is bigger than what our home looks like, what we have, and our financial status.

Not that I’m not trying to work toward something more sustainable, or bigger, but I’m not waiting for stuff like that before I let myself be happy and grateful for what I do have.

The most important thing to me is that I’m able to take care of myself, express myself, and that I feel loved and respected by those I spend my time with.

<3 Lilith

8.11.25— Monday

I’m almost 25, but it feels like 24 flew by without me noticing. I feel like I was always transitioning into something new, or out of something old.

I started 24 with getting kicked out of my apartment by my roommate after weeks and months of lying and gaslighting me. This turned into a lot of different things.

I got a new apartment with my partner.

I quit the nanny gig that I loved, since I couldn’t commute anymore.

I got a new nanny gig.

I started a SubStack.

I got engaged and surprised everyone.

I quit the new nanny gig— that I loved.

I broke my lease.

I moved back into my parent’s house with my partner.

I got a job right away.

I got married in a small, but beautiful ceremony.

I started throwing up out of anxiety at work.

I quit my job.

I started college (again).

I moved back to the city after months of deliberation.

BREIF PAUSE, (sorta)

I got a new job.

I stopped one of my meds.

I got depressed without realizing.

I started having seizures, again.

I got a new diagnosis.

I quit my job.

I got back on my med..

I found my new normal…

Am I leaving out some details? yes, but that’s all you need to know! lol

8.11.25 Monday

More than anything, I want to spend this year NOT in tons of major transitions. I know things are gonna change and I’m going to feel a lot of growth, but I would rather it all be kinda gradual.

I think for the most part, that means— NOT breaking this lease/moving, and not getting a job that I know I’m not capable of working.

I’m realizing more than anything that my health is unable to take working for someone else. The odds of finding non-toxic management or an environment that doesn’t cause a flare-up seems to not be in my favor.

My doctor agrees that my health is much better when I don’t work, and my therapist has seen this pattern repeat itself a lot, too.

So—

What do I do with my time? or life, even?

I honestly have no real qualms with not working at this point in my life. My doctor said I may start having new questions for myself about identity, worth, and whatnot, but for me, this has been a long time coming.

I’ve known I was not meant to do any of that for a long time. I have seen my worth and purpose in expressing myself through art and movement for years, and I’m blessed to be in a position where that’s an option. Even if it really is the only effective one (for my health’s sake).

I don’t want to say I don’t think I’d survive long term continuing how I was, but… you get it.

As for college, it sounds kinda redundant to take out loans and go to school when education and information is abundant, but I don’t want to quit another thing, for one.

As my therapist reminds me, I need to complete school to prove to myself that I CAN, because I really need to see that I can do something… lol.

Outside finishing an associate’s degree that feels redundant, I am going to be spending my time creating, and expressing myself while sharing most of it. More and more as I go.

Whether that’s painting, poetry and prose, community, little videos, rollerskating, dancing, gaming, making zines, or publishing my own books, etc.

It’s never been a question to me that that’s what life is about (for me), so it’s not a huge leap for me to find my worth outside of capitalism.

Being able to spend my life doing it, though, is a blessing and a privilege. Even if it’s because I’m disabled to the point that it’s just not a viable option for me.

At this point, growing my own brand/business is my best option, if not the only one.

<3 Lilith

I spent twenty-three
dancing in the city—
embracing what it was to be free,
loving deeply—
Even when it hurt me.

<3 Lilith

It often feels like I have too many.

Not even necessarily that I’m too sensitive,

but that my heart is so big—

I have more love than I know what to do with.

My thoughts are the same.

They’re bouncing around in my head at all times,

and I can’t shut it off.

Lots of them end up coming out of my mouth,

or spilling out onto a page that goes into the void.

I can feel myself having too many to keep up with.

These last few months,

when my mental health was way down,

I was experiencing much less of both.

Feelings, thoughts and otherwise.

I thought, “damn, is this what everyone else feels like?”

When everything came back,

I realized I just have a lot going on,

and that’s ok.

Less was not better.

My brain is chaotic, and my heart is full.

That’s just who I am.

I’m not less of a valid person,

because I have so many thoughts and feelings.

It’s who I am and what makes me ME.

My spirit is usually high and playful,

and I bring it with me everywhere.

I’ve been through so much, but for the most part,

I am still a bright light in life for many.

I know this mostly because I’m told by loved ones,

and customers when I work in the service industry…

but I can also see it on the face of the woman

who owns my favorite coffee shop,

people I befriend when I go to concerts alone,

or in the bathroom at clubs.

I used to see myself as the moon.

I was low energy, often blue— practically nocturnal.

But now I am sure—

I am a twinkling star.

<3Lilith

thanks for coming to my pep talk…

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little side note— for what it’s worth <3

My ability to make friends wherever I go

can be very helpful.

Although sometimes I feel like

that’s the easiest part.

Keeping friends, or getting closer

is where I start to panic.

Often picking the wrong person

or just getting too close for comfort.

Lilith…

it started to grow.

i earned your affection—

unbearably slow.

a challenge mentally,

but our time spent pleasantly.

<3 Lilith

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also seen in:

more often than i’d like.

in these dreams, she usually looks like someone else.

i couldn’t really tell you why.

maybe because she never was herself with me.

i honestly don’t remember too much about her.

she didn’t share much in our two years.

the only times she shared intimate thoughts and feelings

was when i was my most vulnerable, and wouldn’t remember.

that was weird.

eventually i asked if that was on purpose

and she said, “yeah, obviously.”

that felt weirder.

i remember little pieces of it all, but it makes me sick.

i try hard to forget.

all the things she kept from me. all the lies she told.

everything i trusted.

what an odd feeling to know—

i shared what i loved and she took it all as her own.

i know we are a collection of everyone we have ever loved,

but i hate that i shared so much of myself with her.

she took my hobbies, my music,

where i lived, loved to dance, or eat, and so on.

i wish i shared less.

i wish she felt like she could be her own person.

i wish she would’ve just communicated with me,

or answered honestly when i tried to clarify or understand.

she will never be someone i look back on fondly

some day, i will forget her entirely.

she will always be the person i bared my soul to

and she threw it all back at me in the most painful way possible.

there were so many other easier paths she could’ve chosen.

she chose the hardest option at each fork in the road.

she chose the excruciatingly slow and painful breakup,

rather than an honest and quick one.

i gave her so many opportunities to tell the truth

and she chose every one to lie and gaslight me.

in the end,

i felt myself losing reality.

she was telling me one thing

and showing the opposite.

i couldn’t trust her,

but more importantly,

i felt like i couldn’t i trust myself.

that’s not a feeling i want to remember.

<3 Lilith

also seen in—

sometimes my chest aches,

and i can’t shake it.

it’s like my heart still breaks,

and i can’t escape it.

sometimes it feels pathetic—

the way I love so indiscreetly.

the way I care so deeply.

<3 Isabella Raine Rose

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