^{thursday, september 3}

^{a thunderstorm rolled through last night from midnight until sometime after i fell asleep. practical magic was on the television as the puppies slept next to me in bed. today, i find myself trying to recall specific nights i watched that movie with her. there is one night where it played back-to-back on cable—the ovation channel—which also used to play interviews with actors. i remember all my lights were on in my room, and i was at my altar cleaning and working some spell for love. i can’t find this moment on my letterboxd or in my camera roll. i know it existed. i know another memory where nighttime was dark. i was sitting at my altar once more while it was on tv and i remember being on a dating app. i think i might have still been smoking cigarettes because i have a faint memory of going into the garage, but maybe it was to throw herbs out into the backyard. but today i found a day with the most evidence. september twenty-second of twenty-two. i have a handful of pictures from that day and night, even what i ate. some chicken nuggets thrown into a bowl of mexican rice and onion, with some freshly fried tortilla chips. i can remember this night now that i saw the pictures. i ate, turned off the lights, and turned on practical magic. at 7:47pm i took a video of the scene where gillian is in the bathroom with the belladonna. seeing this felt so satisfying to remember, like i unlocked a piece of mundane history with her. i finally found what my mind has been searching for.}

^{the past couple of days my mind has been on an expedition. i believe it started last friday when twenty-twenty-two came rolling into my head. a formative year. i felt my like i was my best self this year—the me i have been wishing i still was. i was in a house i miss, and with a dog i can never say enough about. i have been searching—aggressively—for days with her of that year. i want to relive one day just to know when i fed her, how many times did i take her out, what did i eat for my one-meal-a-day diet i was having, did i stay on the couch or stay in my room? i want to know so desperately. i almost feel burdened by my mind. my memory is a good one, but it is almost impossible to know what you did one random day four years ago unless you documented the whole thing one way or another. ever since she died, my mind would throw me memories and moments out of the blue. a day when i sat in the garage chain-smoking while it rained, around the time i watched the crow for the first time and still believed in youtube tarot readings. in my last piece i talked about a night where i watched a playthrough of batman: arkham city. this week my mind has been circling around two moments of me playing sims with her. the first, which i feel puzzled by.}

^{it was raining and i was sitting on the couch with ghost adventures on the tv in the background. i swore i was still talking to my guy friend at this time but the date of screenshots from gameplay suggest otherwise. i know what household i was playing, so it made it easy to deduce. february of twenty-twenty-two. the second memory is less specific. i just remember being in my bed playing with a household in an apartment, which is hard to deduce with screenshots because in my legacy i always move two sisters or cousins to this one apartment. but i remember playing late into the night. my lamp was on, and there was a breeze. i even played some sims a few weeks before she died, and now i am playing it again. the same save file since twenty-twenty. a year when i apparently watched practical magic for the first time, yet that doesn’t feel right. that is such a twenty-two-to-twenty-three movie for me.}

^{but this expedition my mind has been on is likely for a lot of reasons—to which my therapist agreed with me yesterday when i spent most of the session talking about it. one: i am searching for her to feel real again. i am forgetting her, and my mind just needs to hold onto some physicality of her. two: i am trying to remember my routine before this house, before i had a strict schedule with her. i am trying to build a new routine with the puppies, and i think in some way i am searching for what once was; when she could go up and down the steps like these puppies can now. three (my therapist’s suggestion): i am looking for the peace and calmness i felt with her. i believe all three of these to be true. even if some of these moments feel mundane, i know there is something in them that is sacred. my therapist said something about “making these important”, which my mind naturally does. i have moments where i know in ten years i will look back on a night and find magic in it and wish i could relive it. usually it is obvious. there’s an alignment. how my lamp looked, what i ate, the forecast, etc. i can usually tell. it doesn’t happen much anymore. i used to know in the moment and spend a second to take it all in. now, i tend to realize it after the fact.}

^{these moments that are coming into my head with her are a mix. mostly moments i didn’t realize, because back then it was just a normal day. i keep wondering if there is some message hidden in these moments. if there is something subconsciously i need to know or if she is trying to communicate and show me what she remembers. i know that is too far-fetched, but i’d like to believe some are her, especially since i told her i wished i could know her favorite moments or memories with me. aside from them coming into my head naturally, i am just searching. there is a tab open in the back of everything that is going through days and nights trying to find something. i am searching. searching for the life i once i had. i didn’t catalog my life in the way i wished back then. i journaled, but it was all my internal thoughts; it wasn’t a play-by-play of my day. i wish i could remember everything. i wish i could go back and relive a day just so i know.}

^♰

^{friday august 28}

^{i woke up this morning and found myself looking at my life four years ago. fondness sits in this year. the fondness has plagued me for two years, constantly wishing to be the self i was and live the life i was. grief is odd in how it brings up so much you never would have thought. so much is connected; so much is brought back to the surface. i wrote a few entries ago about how i never grieved my last house, and now i am due to her. her death has awoken the untouched ribbon i (unknowingly) tied when i left that house. i found myself looking at the zillow listing, the pictures now showing empty rooms instead of our furnished ones they used for a while. i still have a screenshot of what my rooms looked like—i guess that has to be enough, even if i can walk through that house so vividly. i do wish i took a walkthrough video so i could see it all again. i find myself thinking of days and moments there and trying to find where she was.}

^{a night separate from that house, in the one before when i was in middle school, floated into my head. i was watching a let’s play of batman: arkham city. a good night. i never really had any friends or people to talk to in middle school so all i did was watch videos, movies, or sit on tumblr. i found myself trying to remember where she was that night, likely next to me. i think something that i don’t realize is how she was always there when i was alone, my best friend, my moon always there. last night i talked to her. it was thunder-storming and i lit her candle and talked to her for a while. previously, i would only talk to her while sobbing, but last night i was mostly okay. i apologized to her in case i didn’t take the best care of her in middle school; i couldn’t remember if i did what i have been doing for years. i talked to her about the puppies and apologized for that too. i asked her if i could ever see her again, in a dream or a shadow. i told her i knew what signs she had sent and that i understand if she can’t come to me in any other way than that. i think i just want to see her again, or at least have some confirmation she is still around.}

^{mediation isn’t in my wheelhouse and i know some say that’s a way. but, i think i want something crystal clear that isn’t a sign. i think i want outright communication. sometimes i feel stupid for believing that could happen, yet i know there is some magic in this world. maybe the bat and the keychain were enough for a little. maybe the tasty cake truck after i hung up the frame of her was enough. i am greedy. i think i feel, because our connection was so rare and heavy, that i’d see more signs or feel her energy more. but maybe the memories that pop into my head are her. i told her i wish i could know what moments are her favorite with me—that would be fascinating to know. i wish she could show me in a dream or in some unbelievable way. i don’t know what or where she is now, but i know energy never dies and she is around in one way or another. i keep wanting to watch charmed. something in the air smells like it. maybe that’s her.}

^{i had a bad time trying to sleep last night. i was thinking too much about death, like in the way you do when you’re a child trying to wrap your head around it, but then you get scared—where you feel hollow. i got scared thinking of all my material possessions that are me, proof of my existence and who i was. i got even more scared thinking of what would happen to her things once i am dead. i don’t know if i want children, but hypothetically, let’s pretend i would be a great-great-grandmother; would her ashes be safe? would her existence be erased? i thought about having in my will for whoever is left after me to take a chunk of my ashes and put them in their own urn, and then mix the last of me with her so we are safe together. i think about how i want some of us spread at the last house; the grass will do. i thought about how my deceased relatives barely have any possessions left to show their existence or who they were. some, but barely anything. i own so many things. my room is a depiction of my mind in the physical realm, i fear what will happen to all of it. i even thought about when i am near death’s door one day, putting my most sacred items in a box so those left know those things must be kept; that those items are the most me out of everything. energy is so strong. everything i have come in contact with holds some part of me, some time of my life. i hope whoever is left after me doesn’t let her be forgotten.}

^{may my attempt to sleep be softer tonight. i am tired, so maybe sleep will find me faster. sometimes i wish my memories could be shared like a movie. so many pop into my head, and no matter what i say, the weight or feeling of them will never be understood fully. that scares me too. how much of what i have is only mine and how nobody else is ever in my head. i guess it just makes me feel alone. i think i will try to sleep soon. it’s a little after midnight. my nose is cold from my fan because i cleaned it the other day; writing from my bed tonight. life is so different sometimes, and i don’t know how to reconcile with that.}

♰

^{thursday, august 27}

^{sipping on a cup of chicken broth on the couch. my tree line is barely visible as summer comes to an end. i wonder if it will look the same next summer at nine in the morning. i doubt it. i haven’t had much to say lately. church mouse me and church mouse grief. it is quiet. i feel like i am forgetting her aside from what i see in pictures or videos. i can still close my eyes and feel her. i hate not feeling pain over her. grief is my only connection to her now. the normalcy of life is starting to form, but there is still an overarching feeling like something is wrong. i have been watching a lot of svu lately. if i think hard enough i can remember afternoons at the old house watching it on usa with her.}

^{she sent me a sign on monday. my boyfriend and i took an overnight trip to a semi-local amusement park. i walked into a gift shop and picked up a cute bat plushie, then two seconds later i found a rack of keychains for dog lovers. ‘i heart’ with pet names, i was shocked when i saw hers. i bought both, only to realize later that night the meaning of finding the bat first. i hadn’t seen any signs from her in a while, but i knew the bat and the keychain were. my little batman sending me a sign two hours away from home. i didn’t even tell her where we were going when i told her shrine i wasn’t gonna be home that night.}

^{i should really go into detail about the trip in my physical journal but i haven’t felt like writing physically. maybe when i do my receipt journal i will put in a little note about the trip. i still don’t have a lot to say about anything lately. these journal entries are dying out i feel, like my dying view of the tree line that is being covered by full trees. i have been eating a lot lately. my discipline is frail. maybe i am bored and craving the stimulation. my chicken broth is almost gone, and it’s making me crave my homemade chicken noodle soup. almost soup season. my soup was one of her favorite meals.}

^{things have gotten easier with the dogs, about to be a month with them. a storm is coming this evening. right now, i keep seeing different memories in my head. tiny things. charmed mornings, spirit halloween, a night four years ago when i watched svu and had a salad, the trip on monday, watching halloweentown with her on a sunday morning, the first three weeks of june. i might look at pictures and videos of her after i finish this. i am losing her in my mind and that terrifies me. i thought of seeing a pet medium, just out of curiosity. this is a tiny restock of the dairy aisle. for i have almost nothing to serve.}

♰

^{sunday, august 16}

^{back in the chair today. rainy and foggy out today. this week went better with the puppies. i don’t have much to say besides they both go up and down the steps and the clouds i live in are fading. thursday was my calmest day with them. i watched svu all day and night, listened to music for the first time in a while, and did two one-hundred-piece puzzles. friday was a fine day. yesterday i took care of them all day and night. my dad went away for the night, and my mom was down the block swimming with my aunt. they woke me up before eight, and i had a multitude of dreams as i went in and out of sleep for three hours. yesterday didn’t feel as overwhelming as i thought it would—since weekends are usually my time off. i guess it is good because my weekly schedule with them is about to change next week, and i will take care of them longer in the day. but, since they go up the steps i won’t be so confined to the living room like i used to be.}

^{today’s dairy aisle restock is slim. i don’t have much to say. i can’t wait for the weather to get cooler. want my windows open and to be able to wear long sleeves and pants. i rewatched what a girl wants yesterday during lunch—which was chili’s again—and i liked it, unlike child me, who didn’t. my grief is quiet and ever-changing right now. i think i am numb again. last weekend was a lot. a big hit of grief and pain that bled into early this week. i think i have gone back to emotional church mouse. i think it’s scaring me a little. like the puppies are blocking the grief and causing me to not think about her as much. i don’t want to forget her or anything from my life with her. maybe i have just been busy. i don’t think anything is gone or healed, just quiet and on the back burner. i think there is a tiny part of me that is scared to not hurt over her because that means what we had means nothing anymore. but i know that isn’t true. i know my hurt over her is going to live forever inside me.}

^{i don’t know what to do today. i could work on my orchid diamond painting or watch charmed. i still don’t know what to do with myself since her death. nothing feels right in life. her absence makes everything feel incomplete and odd. still surreal i suppose. still can’t play my favorite video game on my playstation. i think too much about her. i thought about a new fic idea but it has no end, and i am tired today. my right knee has really been bothering me. i tend to sit criss-cross most of the day, so i think it’s starting to impact me, especially since i am moving so much more with the puppies. i hate that i don’t have much to say today. i am so church mouse. even memories feel blurry and difficult to remember. i wonder if i will have a cheesesteak today. my mom is hungover, and there isn’t much to eat in the house, so takeout is possible. i haven’t been very strict with my caloric intake this summer. somewhat plateaued in my weight loss journey i’ve been on since october when i cut out soda and counted my calories. was mainly because my stomach issues got too intense—the weight loss was just a bonus.}

^{took more pictures of my tree line yesterday while i was out with the puppies. it doesn’t look the same in late afternoon or from the street. i miss that day. i wonder what it will look like from the couch when the trees go bare. i wonder what semblance of my old life will come back when fall comes. the fog has dissipated a little. i am hungry, and my flowers are dead and dry.}

^♰

^{tuesday, august 11}

^{midnight is approaching, and i am writing from my bed again—nestled in the dip i created this summer. nobody reads my stuff. if they do, i have no idea about it. i write these a lot for myself but also because i am dying to feel less alone. always in a constant cycle of needing to be heard. today was a hard day again. nine days with these puppies. forty-two days without her. i feel like i barely remember her. maybe all the stress is impacting that. yesterday was an even harder day. my boyfriend slept over sunday; we were on puppy duty during the annual summer picnic. we went out a little yesterday. he got stuck in a restock line for almost two hours while i sat in the car. i turned the radio on, picked at my cuticles, and stared at my favorite restaurant that is no longer in business, collecting dust in the same parking lot. on the drive to the mall i added another day where i cried to the list. this week i cried a lot. i miss you was playing on the radio, and i thought of middle school. welling eyes and pink nose. i told him i wish things were how they once were. i miss my life before this summer. more memories and days flashed through my mind; random ones just fly in when something reminds me of her or my life before this. for a second, i pretended she was at home waiting for us.}

^{we got to the mall and i secured the nostalgia-porn pink perfumes, and he bought me a few gifts since i spent half an hour in the car—don’t know where i am gonna put my kratos action figure yet. we went to the craft store, and i didn’t secure much. halloween stuff is out, but it’s not on sale yet. we had longhorn, and it was one of my favorite times we’ve had there. i liked the server. my meal was good. and for a little i forgot how sad i was. we named a green onion fred and shot him across the table until he ended up on the floor. he was meant to go home last night, only coming back to get his stuff and for us to have sex for the first time in a bit—puppy hangs, and tummy issues have blocked us from that. i didn’t want him to go. the sadness of it brought on another crying session. it was short until another really big one hit. i packed his bag through tears, and he sat there telling me he couldn’t leave me like this. i knew if he left, i’d lie in the dark and cry the entire night. i didn’t mean to make it hard for him to leave or pressure him, but all i needed was him. i needed to not be alone. i needed things to feel like they used to.}

^{so he stayed. we booked our hotel for later this month. just one night. i need to be out of this house. i need to pretend things are like they used to be. i need to pretend it’s like that weekend we went away for our anniversary in a ‘bad’ snowstorm. it wasn’t what the weather said it would be. towards the end of the night, he was in his silly mood, which i always love. the pre-sleep silliness. i think he saved me last night, even just for a little while, since today i am trying to hold it together. the morning started fine. shortly before my dad came home i was losing it. i had to keep yelling at the puppies to stop. all they want to do is attack each other and chew on things they’re not supposed to. i don’t want to justify my frustration right now with the fact they are puppies. we did this too soon. we did this hastily. we did this without realizing how much work it is. i deal with the brunt of it. i am with them from morning to mid-afternoon, but soon it will be from two until ten or eleven at night. i hate admitting how i don’t care. i hate feeling frustration toward them. i hate how unhappy i am with my life.}

^{twelve minutes until midnight. i am seeing my friend tomorrow. i hope they will be calm. my girl was the only dog they liked, so i am stressed about the two puppies. they are teething. little sharks. i couldn’t live with myself if we gave them back to the company we got them from. but i also am struggling so hard with this. every day is stressful. every day is painful. not just because of them, but it all comes back to her. everything orbits around her. there’s a picture of her on my desktop right now. i cried again a few hours ago and early today; small sessions, barely any tears. my back hurts right now. the pain is cold. i don’t know how to do this. i don’t know how to be happy right now. i have moments, but i feel so worn. when my dad gets home i come into my room and decompress from all the stress. i don’t know what i am gonna do when the hours change in a few weeks. summer will be over, for the kids at least, and i will put this number one on my list of bad summers. my frustration is clouding a lot inside of me, and i feel guilt for that.}

^{the clouding is making me feel like a bad person. do i even like dogs anymore? everything is so hard. i wish things were easy. my life’s never been easy. i hope i exhale when i die. i hope the placement of that does not cause worry; that was a line i wrote in my notes app months ago. just encapsulates how much pain i have dealt with in my life. my back is really hurting. i don’t think i dreamt this morning. my mind is a little blank. protecting me from the heaviness again. i didn’t hear from the girl i met online today. i hope she is okay. i could check in but my capacity is thin. the picture on my desktop changed again. i miss her. i miss the life i knew. i hate change so aggressively. that’s why i built so much of a bubble for myself. for years i knew what made me happy and i kept it that way. for years i knew what my days looked like. change is hard when you grow up in a household that is chaotic. i can usually adapt fast, but not without utter slams of heartache. i get hit with the kitchen sink and see it all so clearly once it’s no more. i hope october is good. please let it be good. i wish i believed this summer was written in the stars, that it’ll all make sense one day. wish i could be shown why certain things happen. i plead for a reason for so much.}

^♰

^{friday, august 7}

^{for the first time in days, i am off puppy duty. the chair has met my back again, and the sun is washing through the pool. around seven this morning, my boyfriend left for work and as i laid in bed trying to go back to bed, all i could think about was the last few weeks of grief. i keep wondering if there is a possibility that certain periods of grief or heartbreak can be sacred. that you can look back on them and find something you miss. the orbit of life around you and the orbit of your own attempt at clawing for solace. i think about the days after she died and how my mother was off work and we went to the craft store a bunch. i think about the hours i would spend by this window and how i was completely in my head. the slowness and pondering—i miss. even though my pain was so fresh and debilitating, i somewhat miss the last few weeks of sitting here and pondering.}

^{i slept until ten after eventually falling asleep and having a strange dream. the world of harry potter was ending, like wizards and london were being killed off, and i was living in a cottage with dean winchester taking care of dogs. i remember there was a mastiff and him smiling at me. i was at the train station before i woke up. sometime during the dream i swear i saw her and there was an exchange either from her or me: “it’s you”, or “it’s me.” it felt faint when i woke up since dean was the last thing i saw before my eyes opened. it made me want to write more fan fiction, but as i said before, i am trying to connect. trying to stay out of my head and fantasize. there was an entry i wrote on the 24th of july that i never posted. i wrote it at night in this chair, and i spent three paragraphs talking about when i started supernatural; which was before she died. i should really post one of my entries from mid-june that i wrote on the couch during that time. i keep thinking a lot about it. maybe a part of me stopped watching the show because she’s not here anymore.}

^{the last two days my boyfriend has been here with me. wednesday night, pebbles slept in my bed while we played pokopia. last night, both of them slept while we played. improvements. i don’t know where i am in my grief anymore. my therapist says i am grieving well and processing things. but she is worried having two puppies will put me back in my old pattern where i don’t live my life because i have to take care of them. i have missed sitting in this chair. i kinda miss writing my fics. i kinda miss the month of july even if i was suffering—still am—but i can’t focus on it as much; it can’t take over because things are fast now. sometimes i find myself thinking how good of a time it was after my last breakup. i was hurting, but the fall of that year seems sacred. i find it odd to look back on times when i was in great pain and see something good in them. maybe it is the softness. the simplicity of life. or the way i found new routines and new things that fell out of orbit because life began to change.}

^{i am a very sentimental person. very nostalgic. is it really possible to be sentimental about a time i was suffering just because the routine is different now? i think some parts of me miss the aspect of doing nothing. i know people in my life believe when she was alive i did nothing—which isn’t true—i did a lot, and so many aspects of my life were built perfectly around and with her. but the weeks i didn’t have her or the puppies were days i truly did nothing. i laid, i ate, i cried, i wrote, and i pondered. i hated the loneliness and aimlessness of my days, but now i realized how nice it was to not have to do anything. i only was able to have that for a bit, and the stress of the last week is making it more apparent. i don’t regret these puppies, but there was something about the last month that is sacred to me. there is something within the days that i miss and find interesting.}

^{she isn’t super vivid in my mind anymore. granted my mind can only see something with eighty percent clarity and detail so it’s not a surprise, but i feel like i am forgetting her. forgetting certain movements, mannerisms, and just how she was. i look at pictures and videos so she stays present in her full form. sometimes i see her in the puppies. even if i can’t see her in complete detail, i can still feel parts of her without needing to touch anything. isn’t there a study that someone stays in your cells for like six years before your body forgets them? i hope my body and mind never forget what she felt like. i hope i can find a routine with the puppies that isn’t so fast and urgent so i can do things again during my day. i hope i can write on the couch again and take breaks to stare at the tree line—it is being somewhat blocked by a branch right now, though.}

^{sometimes grief feels like you’re in the corner of a department in a retailer like bon-ton, macy’s, or boscov’s and everything is moving around you but you can’t. you’re suffocated with things and memories since most of those stores are stuck in a decade that has passed. you’re watching people walk around and sitting on a scratchy carpet. sometimes i miss walking around bon-ton. sometimes i have dreams i am in the basement of boscov’s. sometimes when i go there now, i stand in the corner of a department and feel something i can’t explain. to be an observer is to succumb to all you don’t realize until it’s too late. i still have an advertisement of julia roberts from bon-ton, i asked if i could have it when they were closing. and i still remember going with my aunt and cousin to get her a dress for a school dance. i remember so much and am so alone with all of it.}

♰

^{wednesday, august 5}

^{not writing in my chair again. the august heat and humidity is clogging up my windows. i have been sweaty and sticky for days. showering in the evening once my puppy duties are done for the day. yesterday morning was hard. i laid on the couch as they played, watching charmed and feeling utterly discouraged and frustrated. i miss her. i miss that life. the one i have now is stressful and fast. i don’t dislike these puppies and if someone said i could have her back if they traded places with her, i wouldn’t—she is gone, and i know that. granted i would give anything for her back as long as it didn’t involve people or the puppies. my hurt shouldn’t take away someone’s life. hypothetical, i know.}

^{potty training is hard. my mother saw how upset i was and talked to them very sternly before they crawled on top of me and fell asleep until i made lunch. i have to take them out singularly frequently, so my sticky skin has been permanent. my rewatching of charmed is the only thing i am doing. i have to be on it with them so much i don’t have the time to melt into anything else; until i come upstairs to my room, which then, i am exhausted. i go to bed at midnight and wake up between eight and nine. they don’t like lying in my room, panic about the steps and how they can’t go down them. i am a little stressed today. i have therapy at one. my boyfriend is coming at twelve so he will stay downstairs with them. i have so much to tell my therapist. so many thoughts during my grief that i forget. so much i hope i can fit in an hour.}

^{i rewatched both dirty dancing movies last night. of course, memories of watching them in the last house with her came into my mind—and how i wish i could dance. those movies are so erotic and sensual. i just showered, but it will be pointless after taking them out later. i sweat in winter and the grotesque weather outside is making everything harder. after sunday and yesterday, i feel rather numb about her. my body let out some pain and now my mind is back in protective mode. it is cloudy today and i keep thinking of last week. that thunderstorm, my sobs, my forty-minute meal, and watching sharp objects in the dark all day and night. i haven’t figured out if i miss the weeks of being alone in this house. i did nothing, and i woke up lost and heavy. i think the stress of everything is making me miss it slightly. even if in those moments i hated it. i hated the dip i created in my bed and the way i couldn’t do anything but sit in that chair and watch or scroll.}

^{we have a big picnic on sunday. annual picnic. the weather is going to be grotesque so my boyfriend and i will be on puppy duty inside. we bought a buildable fence/pen thing, hoping it works so no drunk person steps on the dogs or we have to be outside with them. i know sunday will be stressful. i know i will need two showers. i know i have to deal with fifty or so people wanting to meet the dogs. she always loved picnics, but they also stressed her out. i know they are puppies and things will get better in time, but that still doesn’t ease the present. maybe i am numb because i am so busy. but i still think about her. i hate to admit this, but i was rubbing pebbles foot and pretending it was her a little. i still adore these puppies. i love holding them and feeling their weight on me. i love seeing their personalities and how excited they get. but she will always be on my mind no matter what. pebbles crawled on my chest when i was softly crying on the couch; maybe pebbles knew like she used to.}

^{it’s early. it’s almost ten. i am looking forward to my overnight trip with my boyfriend at the end of august. i think by then i’ll need a night away. but, it keeps reminding me of when we went away for our anniversary this year—when she was still here. i hope i don’t get homesick in the hotel like i did this past may when we went to a wedding. i love hotels. i am curious what my therapist will think about all of this. for i told many people i don’t think i could ever get a dog again. i feel stupid because of that statement. i don’t want people to think my heartbreak is gone or that it ever will be. anytime i tell people i will grieve her until i die, they try to soothe me and tell me i won’t. like they think it is wrong and they need to fix it. but, i don’t mind grieving her forever, like i will the last house. i met a girl online who just lost her dog. her dog’s name was the same as mine so i felt something cosmic there. i’ve been trying to give her some comfort, so she understands the process. it’s been similar to mine, so i think i have been giving her some comfort. but there’s no comfort in immense grief.}

^♰

^{sunday, august 2}

^{i have so much to say. it is bogging me down. it’s almost eleven, i am writing in bed for once, and i have two 3-month-old puppies downstairs. they aren’t used to the steps yet so they haven’t spent much time in my room—comfortably at least. it was a reason i cried earlier. i felt a little left out, like they only wanted my parents and were only bonding with them. they have been here since yesterday morning. two girls. catahoula mixes. pepper and pebbles. amongst my excitement of being with dogs again, i still live in grief and heartbreak. i don’t feel resentment like some people say, but going from a soul dog to two puppies who are just learning is a bit of an adjustment. earlier tonight i got very upset because i felt so alone even with two new puppies in the house; the stairs situation, along with being reminded of things i did with her, hit me like a truck.}

^{last night my boyfriend showered and i sat alone with the sleeping puppies. i haven’t spent any time in the living room at night since she died. an overwhelming bit of shock and familiarity came over me. it looked like it used to. for some reason in mid-may i felt like i had to be with her all the time—like i knew her end was near—and there were three days where all i did was watch movies while she hung on the couch. that’s all i thought of. the lamp looked the same. the lamp looked like every night i spent with her down there since we moved in here. granted, we have two lamps, and sometimes i’d change up the look and have them both on. but usually, it was just the one. in that moment and after, i realized how much of this new journey may mirror my past one. when we came back into my room i had a mix of anxiety and indigestion. i talked about her and all that was worrying me; all that hit me after a day of being on it with two new puppies.}

^{i want people to know she existed. to know what she meant to me. i told him it’s weird to think if i meet someone new, they will only know of these two girls. pepper and pebbles will be my dogs and not her—like yes, these are my new puppies, but another dog used to pitter-patter on these floors. i just want the weight of our connection to live on in something other than me and her ashes. i want it to be known, and i want to give her the space to exist even now. i cried a little before my boyfriend left. i feared being alone. at some point i brought pebbles up, and she wanted to leave within a few minutes. so, i took her down, and when i came back up, i just lost it. i laid in bed and just sobbed and looked at pictures of my girl. not comparing them. but just missing her at the same time. things are different but also in that moment they felt the same; i felt alone.}

^{i felt left out. rejected and not needed. due to the stairs issues, they have been hanging out downstairs, so naturally they are bonding faster with my parents. it’s really hurting me. especially since i took care of her so much, especially in the end—my dad too—but i spent the most time with her every day and likely will with these puppies. so i guess, a part of me—the mommy issues part—felt a little jealous. yesterday she got drunk and played her fake casino games on her tablet outside; she barely hung out with them. maybe in a way, i don’t want her getting more love than me when i will end up being with them the most, like before. she was my dog. but i wonder if these two will just be our dogs.}

^{these puppies are not here to replace her or deter grief. some may think it is too soon, and i am surprised about it also; i never thought we’d get a new dog, let alone two, only a month later. but like i said in an earlier entry, the void has been immense, and it is hard to exist in this house. i never knew if i was fully ready, and i still don’t. earlier i was questioning this decision we made, if we jumped a little hard and aren’t prepared. i missed having a dog, but i also just miss her. i am giving myself the space to have multiple feelings at once. i know that i will forever miss and grieve her. i know i will forever cry over her. i know whatever i feel for these dogs does not negate my relationship with her. i know she isn’t mad. i know she is still with me. i lit her candle and cried. i told her everything. the first thing the puppies did when they came into my room was go to her spot; they’re eye level with her. i apologized for having to adjust her space since the bowl of herbs isn’t puppy safe. but, i sat there and cried for a little until dinner arrived.}

^{sometime after that, miss pepper surprised me and shot into my room. she hung out a little but was terrified of going down the steps. i took her out after and then saw her climbing up my stairs. she saw me and turned and was brave enough to prance down them. i know it is early. i know my feelings may be because of the adjustment. and i know my grief is ever-long. but i still hope something of what i once knew is able to come back in its own way.}

♰

^{friday, july 31}

^{the coke zero i had yesterday is having a party with my luteal phase bloating. i only drink fanta zero sugar because soda, especially dark soda starts a war with my stomach. i woke up this morning and felt nauseous; the mylanta i took before bed didn’t seem to help. so, i laid in bed on the scrolling app and very quickly was crying at ten in the morning. my feed was filled with dog grief, and there i was crying without any control. the other night i sat on there for four hours and nothing. i even scared myself when i stopped to go to bed because i realized i hadn’t had a conscious thought during all of it—dissociation and derealization/depersonalization is a thing i deal with and have since a bad high when i was a teenager. but, scrolling is the only thing i know how to do right now or watch movies. i did collage last night while watching one of my childhood favorite LMN movies; i tend to watch those when i collage.}

^{i am waiting on a grocery store delivery of two cases of water, toilet paper, and pepperoni pizza rolls i will eat once it arrives. she has only secured water in the last twenty minutes; assuming she is doing multiple because that would be mind-boggling. my ac must have froze in the middle of the night due to the sopping towel and two ruined books. i am hungry and tired from crying for an hour. i thought about joining the others and posting a tiny slideshow of my girl to one of the noah kahan songs they use, but what for? i am not looking for anything. i just want people to know she existed and was my everything.}

^{something i have been coming to terms with is how singular me and her are. how what we had is just ours only. nobody else has lived my life, lived in the same houses, been in the exact same circumstances as me, or had a dog just like her. it is bittersweet. we shared something that is only reserved for her and me. yes, people have cosmic bonds with their dogs or have been with them all-day everyday, but it is solely a bond and experience that is not replicable. maybe it is beautiful that my dog and i are the only ones to have experienced what we have together. maybe the fact it is just ours is what makes it so damn difficult to exist without her. no matter what anyone believes, all of us on earth at least have one thing in common. we all share at least one thing, whether it is that we both ate at the same restaurant on the same day, or saw the same episode of a show at the same time, etc. but this, for me, is so singular. the grief is not, but the story to the grief is just mine and hers. the life i lived—we lived—is just mine and hers. and that’s okay.}

^{the shopper still hasn’t found the toilet paper or pizza rolls. debating messaging her but i am not that kind of person. even though i am starving and have been dreaming about pizza rolls for days, even if the last time i had them, they attacked my already fragile stomach. it has been a month and one day without her. she liked pizza rolls. usually would give her the ends so she didn’t deal with the lava inside. the other night when my mind was shut off, i went to bed with my fingers on my arm so i could remind myself i was real if i needed to. i dissociated a few times after her death, and it didn’t even phase me. normally my stomach drops to my ankles, and i’m terrified. but after her, i wasn’t. i have thought about dying my hair darker, but it is summer, so i should wait, even if i haven’t swum much. i just messaged the shopper.}

^{yesterday my mom called the place we met the other dog and asked why they didn’t choose us. apparently it was because we don’t crate our dogs. she let them have it. told them to rip up our application, and we will never adopt from them again. i have let it go because one of the dogs we are meeting tomorrow was uploaded online an hour after we heard the news. i’d like to think that was meant to be, but i don’t know. my shopper hasn’t replied. hope she isn’t passed out on the floor of the grocery store. i was about to talk about how good that chili’s was the other day and how the weather fit with my mood and actions—but this piece is so much about food. nonetheless, that was a day with the right setup. severe thunderstorm, freshly showered with a big meal and a silly movie. i hope i have time to shower tomorrow morning before the dogs come and before there’s a line with my mom and dad.}

^{for now, i will dream about my incoming pizza rolls and adding more noah kahan to my august playlist.}

♰

^{wednesday, july 29}

^{yesterday was a rough day. i started my morning cleaning the house incase we ended up getting the dog—to which we didn’t. charmed was on the tv as i cleaned; we all scream for ice cream, which is the episode i watched the morning i had the breakdown and couldn’t go to school. stupidly, i felt this was a sign. but they went with the other family who wanted her. my mom has been angry ever since and for some reason it hit me like a truck. i stopped cleaning and went to my room and cried for a while. i just miss her. i miss my life before all of this. i wake up so lost everyday and don’t know what to do with myself. my room was dark due to the heavy thunderstorm that rolled through. it looked like nighttime as i cried in bed and looked at pictures of her. my mom was telling me to go look at other dogs but i was over it. but, she really wants a dog. so now we have two coming to the house saturday morning.}

^{i got chili’s delivered and showered once the thunder calmed as my driver picked up my food. i rewatched ella enchanted which i haven’t seen in a while. luteal phase so i ate a lot. took me forty minutes to eat my meal. i got chips and queso and the six-piece chicken crispers—never got six before but it curbed my desire for a large meal that i could eat for a while. afterward, i masturbated and had a bowl of ice cream with a warmed cookie on top while i stared my rewatch of sharp objects. i laid in the dark all day and watched on my laptop. rolling around my bed since my spot is already getting a dip. i’ve had this mattress since march, and i am a bed dweller; more so now than i have been this year. i thought about working on my original story today, but i don’t want to. i thought about collaging, but it feels like a fight inside me.}

^{lunch was soup and a beautiful grilled cheese today. it is cloudy so sitting by my window in my ‘writing’ chair feels gross. the radio is piercing in a way that i want to turn it off. i could work on an edit. i could write. i could force myself to collage. the sun is coming out right now. the sky knew i wasn’t feeling the clouds. i need to change the water in my pitcher of flowers. i woke up feeling rested for the first time in days but i can feel my body starting to get tired. the sun is gone again. the weekend was good with my boyfriend. i missed him. i watched him do his classic beard adjust and felt a lot of love. we only hung out sunday for a few hours but i needed it. things have felt good. different and refreshing. he is coming saturday after his haircut and after the dogs.}

^{there isn’t much i want to say about anything right now. feeling very church mouse today—and lately. i don’t know what to do today, like always. i really should collage. i have wanted to for two weeks but haven’t had the capacity to. i just saw a picture of young me on my altar wall. i am wearing hair ties with those glittery tinsel balls. i should get some. i wonder if all these entries include a sentence of me saying i should collage. i think so. i might rewatch some videos of my favorite crafty creator. her content is serene, and maybe it’ll inspire me. i wish i had a snack. i wish i had more to say then just this.}

^♰

^{monday, july 27}

^{i just sat and talked to her. i lit a candle and had my first official talk with her. i have been too embarrassed to because my mind is still messed up from childhood, where i believed my posters were watching me. i told her about the dog we saw today—the one we might adopt if the place chooses us over the other family. we should know tomorrow. i started crying telling her about it because i fear she is mad at me, like we haven’t waited long enough. but the void she left is so damning it is hard to exist in this house; maybe the greater the void, the less time you give yourself to deal with it. we didn’t even really go into this thinking we would get one fast. we just looked out of curiosity, and now we might be getting an 11-month-old cutie named peach.}

^{i told her i don’t know how to talk to her. i don’t have the right spiritual devices besides tarot cards, a pendulum, and astrology dice. i used the dice. i called out numbers and star signs that relate to her and us. one question she gave me my moms sign, which i never listed, so i rolled again, and she gave me mine. i don’t know if it’s her. i don’t know what i believe, but i hope it is. i asked her if she was okay with us getting a dog, even asked her to give me a sign before i left this afternoon. when we got the place, we ended up parking next to a car with a pitbull sticker on it—wasn’t her twin but was enough.}

^{i asked her if she was mad at me. i asked her if she is with me. and i asked her if it was okay that we put her down when we did. i still question it even if she couldn’t walk and the doctor said it was time. i would give anything for her to be here with me still. i miss her. i told her how hard it is without her, how i don’t know how to exist anymore. every day i feel lost. i haven’t cried in a week over her, and now i am again. her toys are still in my room, i will keep them until i die. it has her on them. i try to not feel guilty, but i know there is no need. she knows how i feel about her. she knows the bond we had. she knows i will grieve her forever and how i want us together when i die. i told her i miss the last house—she knows the weight of that too. i don’t know where she is or if she can hear me, see me. i hope she is near always. i hope she is safe and happy.}

^{it is hard to think i could be me with a different dog. it’s always been me and her. it’s weird to think it’ll be someone new. i am trying not to hate myself for being excited. i am trying not to be upset we did this so soon. i am trying to not stress about making plans around my dog again. that’s who i am. i am trying to not care what people will think about the time frame. her void will forever live inside me, and that is a fact. i don’t want people to think my pain for her is gone. i don’t want them to think i won’t still hurt. i don’t know what will happen tomorrow. all i know is i will wake up and clean the house just in case. i will wait until lunchtime when they open and see if they call my mom. i will shower just in case.}

^♰

^note…

^{this is rather small, but i wrote it in five minutes and am posting it right after. this one is especially unedited.}

^{friday, july 24}

^{the other night before bed i watched a rerun of charmed and when i laid down to sleep, i felt the most overwhelming panic. charmed is the second thing that saved my life. my dog and charmed. scattered moments of her lying next to me while i watched the show filled my mind—even some memories from the first time i watched the show. christmas break of ninth grade. in eight and ninth, i had an obscene amount of absences and would often text my mom to come get me in the middle of a school day. school was really bad for me. in ninth, i would go to the library during lunch, listen to the saddest playlist on my way there, and my journalism teacher told me to try out an after-school group for mental health awareness. i went to the assembly for it and they told us a story of how some kid went to school one day and then took his own life when he got home. everyone knew i was unwell.}

^{that christmas break was full of ease and dread. i had a fight with my mom on the 22nd and walked to my aunt’s house. i stayed over and when i woke up in the morning the season three finale of charmed was on. i got the whole series for christmas. at some point in january, shortly after i went back, i had something of a breakdown one morning. my mom was hungover, asleep on the couch and i was pleading with her to let me stay home. i remember sobbing on the stairs that i couldn’t do this anymore. i had been begging her since second grade to let me be homeschooled—hence why i resent her for keeping me in a place of pain for years. seventh grade i wanted to die. eight grade i was catatonic and nauseous. ninth grade i was nothing.}

^{my dog came into my life the winter of sixth grade, so right before everything. charmed came in right when i needed something to fall into. both have held me safely over the course of my teen and young adult life. i’m twenty-four. is that still young adult? nonetheless, the other night i sat in that classic feeling of i can never go back to what once was. not a new concept i deal with, quite frankly, i deal with it a lot. but right now, it is so prevalent like never before. i thought about how if i ever went back to the old house it wouldn’t mean anything. she wouldn’t be with me. i wouldn’t be watching charmed with her in the morning while the sun spilled into my room. that is such a specific and special thing to me. nine in the morning, she’s in my bed, a charmed rerun is on the tv. charmed in the mornings is special in general to me but now it has an added layer. two things i can never have again: my dog and the old house. i will grieve both forever.}

^{i have lived in four houses. my childhood home survives in 8mm tapes and MacBook pro selfies. the townhome which i barely remember because it was during middle school. then the last house—from ninth grade to the summer of ‘23. my most informative years were in that house. so much happened there. so much i wish i could see again. so much that once was and can never be again. that was my home. the one i can close my eyes and walkthrough clear as day. it’s the house where me and her were at our strongest. every time i drive past it—which is frequently—i can often see what it’d look like inside based on the weather. in the last couple weeks every drive by is like twisting the knife of her. i see us there. i see her sitting at the screen door watching the street. i see her in the fenced in backyard sitting on the patio furniture. i see myself writing poetry and smoking cigarettes out the window. i have no qualms with the house i am in now, but what is this house? the house my dog declined in?}

^{there is so much that will only live inside my head and in her ashes that are right in front of me. i am sitting in the chair again. i sit here to write. i sit here so she can see me. so i can see the trees. sometimes when i lay down to sleep i feel like something is trying to claw out of my chest. half of that is because of my panic attack in january. and half of it is me not having a safe place when i’m trying to sleep. i am trying to reduce my daydreaming because it causes me to disconnect and i am trying so hard to connect. last night before bed i read a piece from blue cenobite. i don’t even have the app anymore but their newest piece intrigued me. it was about blowfly girl who i knew nothing about. great visual to see before bed. but, i remember feeling so conflicted about myself afterwards. how i desperately want to write and be heard. how i desperately want people to care about my mind and what i have to say. but i am church mouse again and church mouse me says shut up. i can journal but where is the relief if it stays between the pages. i get nothing from that. i know i should write for myself but i want to feel less alone in my head. the fact i am writing this now knowing someone will read it is like a sigh.}

^{the window is open again. maybe my thoughts can go somewhere else. maybe they will go back to the old house. maybe she can sniff the air again. she would’ve loved sitting on the porch today. i want to write more today, even if this piece is already long. i need to shower at some point and drink another water. and maybe listen to my own playlist instead of the radio. i want to write about the week i watched supernatural for the first time, it keeps coming into my head.}

♰

^{wednesday, july 22}

^{monday morning i had a dream where i was given a tarot reading. from what i remember, it seemed like the lady couldn’t resist; she moved on fast from the other person so she could read me. four cards came out: queen of swords, queen of cups, king of cups, and eleven of swords reversed. i remember she took both the cup cards and said they could also be reversed—like both directions meant something. then she looked me right in the eye and asked if i was okay. i should really sit and dissect that reading. as a tarot reader, i should understand this in a second, but my mind is unequipped at the moment. i cut an onion on sunday, and it hasn’t left my hands.}

^{criss-cross applesauce in my chair by the windows. eighty degrees and low humidity. i opened the window because i can’t resist freshness or a chance the breeze will make my curtains dance. my air conditioner is blasting through the other side of my room. there’s a child screaming outside. i wonder what my scream would sound like if i let one out of my thorned throat. church mouse is back—to some extent. today was the first day since she died that i sat downstairs for more than five minutes. every time i sat down there i cried.}

^{but today, i wanted to play the remaster of batman: arkham city. last summer was a batman summer, a resurgence of one of my oldest loves. i’ve played the trilogy at least twenty times. i thought about going through my comics when i came upstairs but i haven’t left this chair in an hour. i used to call her batman, when she was grouchy and in protective mode. she even had a batman cape i sewed as her halloween costume. bats are symbols i now connect with her. she was my batman. when i play video games downstairs i sit on this cushioned rocker—a family heirloom on my dad’s side. she would often end up on my lap. my sixty-pound girl. she’d usually fall asleep while i played batman or whatever else. i don’t think there’s been a playthrough she wasn’t there for besides today.}

^{sitting between two bouquets of flowers my boyfriend got me yesterday. one batch is sitting on my vanity and the other on my windowsill. i hear the sounds of the pool and the breeze, and i am pondering what to do tonight. there’s a fic idea running around in my head but i don’t feel like entering my imagination today. plus, i feel quite heavy today. i could be tired. my orgasm was good last night. i made sure to exhale when it happened. there wasn’t a pain in my lower stomach, and we had sex forehead to forehead. i keep thinking of how urgent he was to get my shorts off when i was grinding on him. he told me later in the night that he really likes dust bowl by ethel. surprised me.}

^{the urge to collage is pushing into me. but every time i sit down to do it, i flop like a dead fish. maybe i should reread white oleander. or copy pages of it and use it for the background of a collage—which is an idea i’ve had for a while. i want to make moodboards. i want to collage at the chair but there’s no space. i’d have to take my fan off the tv table it’s sitting on. maybe i just make boards instead. there’s something marinating in my head though. this stock of the dairy aisle is a bad batch. usually i am whole milk and today i am 1%.}

^♰

^{tuesday, july 14}

^{i just tried to collage, it is almost five. i had spaghetti and watched frankie & johnny today. didn’t like the movie as much as i used to, kind of bothered me if i am being honest. i am in slow motion, i am too tired to move. my mental state is a dying field, i keep pondering, and it’s killing me. i keep walking through the same trails, and i keep trying to find something different than what i already know. i feel heavy, my lips are parted and dry. i want to collage, i want to write, i want to be something more than suffocation and rot. but i can’t. i am a pile of twisted blankets, unable to find a way out. i am in a riddle i cannot solve. exhaustion lives in my marrow. can someone come and dig it all out?}

^{i think about halloween and how she followed me around all day when i set up the party decorations. i think about mundane mornings and nights. i think about love and lack thereof. i think about passion and understanding. oh how i would let my knees turn black and blue to be understood. can someone go inside of me and learn me. can someone recite me back to myself. can i be holy again. can i be me again. can i be with my dog again. can i write again. can i feel okay again.}

^{i think about route 837 and the girl in the mini skirt at the birthday party. i think about the tree line i can only see from one side of the living room and my aunt’s porch down the block. i think about sister honey. i think about my dog. my dog, my dog, my dog. i think about someone saying hello to her when they come into my room, for she sits in a wooden box. i think about chicken noodle soup and the sound of her paws on the kitchen tile. i think about the two diamond paintings i hope to finish. i think about orgasming and the pain i feel in my lower stomach when i do.}

^{i want to feel. i want to cry. but my body and mind won’t let me. i want to fall apart so i can rearrange myself after. i want to flirt. i want to kiss. i want to feel something other than this. throw me to the flatlands. let me burn in the plains. let me be a kid and go to the boardwalk one more time. let me go back to the last house. please let me go back to the last house. house song by searows. read my will for it will state that my and my dogs ashes should be there. even if i know there is a piece of us there, maybe living, maybe dying. am i dying? i know i am not living, just barely anyway.}

^{i want to be fucked on the floor, and in the bed, and on the counter, and somewhere other than my head. i can’t digest it all anymore. i can’t eat little anymore. i look at the couch, and i don’t see her anymore. i look at the couch and wonder how it still lives when she no longer breathes into it. i look out my window. i stare out my window. i watch, i ponder. all i do anymore is ponder. i have been pondering for weeks. i am inward again. i am maladaptive daydreaming again. i am hungry and yearning again. i am rotting again. i am stuck again.}

♰

^note…

^{hi, yes i am back. i have been going through it. my dog died on june 30th, and i am a mess. but, i have been doing these daily diary entries. so enjoy them in their unedited form.}

My hips throb, loitering long
for your touch. 
I am provocative, I am perverse, 
sat on a plate, sweetness to devour. 
Rattle me, put me on my knees,
wilt me,                           wilt me. 
Flesh craves, I am cotton
ribbon yourself around me. 
Nocturnal garden, 
hold my porcelain organs — 
touch me now, touch me there. 

note..

thank you for reading!! short little poem

- little priestess <3

I behold her, bathing in a foam-fall
ever-growing moonlight
diaphanous, draping her alabaster 
breasts. 

Her hair, a bed of nymphaeas 
swirling around her — 
another land, another time.

She moans through Cyprus stone 
I lean like Aphrodite 
on the tower balustrade, 

the Moonlit Bell twinkles, a mirror
across the fates, under the moon
she sees me too. 

note…

thank you for reading!! a poem to my goddess aphrodite

- little priestess <3

A battered pointe shoe on your lap, 
I spill, a ribbon of silk 
tart — lick me and poke me
like a violet bruise. 

Forgotten in the chapel basement, 
I pirouette around the buried altar
tie me back up, ribbon me to you

and carry me like a prayer card 
in your pocket, 
feel my dance on your thigh. 

note…

thank you for reading!! something new, wrote a few others i should have posted first to keep some order but whatever lol

- little priestess <3

Friday night.

My room smelled of autumn, the original Halloween was on my television, and my newly secured Twice album was sitting with my trinkets. And the urge to collage was hanging over my head as I sat at my desk. I rarely go into collages with an idea, usually just a collection of clippings that slowly transform into a message I’d have to explain to someone. But, halfway through I felt a poem skipping through my head. Trying to grab onto it I scribbled down some words and worked on it before bed. The poem transformed the collage into something more, at least the right side of the spread.

My collages tend to be too NSFW to post anywhere. There is always a pair of tits somewhere or some clipping from a Playboy. But, this collage had a focal point of a cam-girl I recently became fond of, with a flower I predictably placed between her thighs. (I will be keeping her anonymous since she doesn’t cam anymore and I feel it is wrong to publicize her since she isn’t active anymore.) Yet, my fondness of her doesn’t come as much of a surprise—and I assume she will be used in more collages to come.

(poem is a first draft, likely going to work on it more so bare with me)

Perverse as a swan, 
so black, so white. Flex,
and doll over 
search         for my lace, 
clench it onto my thigh 
and make me,
make me  

cake once more.
Sweet angel am I, 
suck in the bite 
of my lungs. Divine, divine 
intervention —
in the flower at the base 
of dawn.
Am I perfect yet? 

I have always had this affinity for cam girls and pornstars since I discovered it all too young. I came across porn earlier than average; most say girls between the ages of twelve and thirteen, while I hit just below the boys average of ten to eleven. In short, I discovered porn sometime between the ages of eight and ten. Now, I don’t fully know the general consensus people have on learning about sex and porn early. Is it frowned upon? Do you assume my brain is fried? Is that a good age to have been exposed?

Sometime between those ages I got my own laptop—my parents didn’t care that much and my mom spoiled me because it’s the only thing she knew how to do—but this gave me more private access to porn and the live gold shows on the hub. I would sit in cam girls streams and just listen to them talk until the private gold show came up. I would romanticize their lives heavily, I still kind of do even if I know what that world is like. I think in some alternate reality if I loved my body more I would’ve done something in that field.

As a kid I always wanted to be a “hot girl”, I felt ugly and fat and wanted to be a seductive woman when I grew up. I would circle all the sexy Halloween costumes in the Party City catalog because I wanted to be that. And in some aspects of my life now, I still want to be that. I still look at a woman and want to be her and have what she has. Probably why I surround myself with posters, pictures, and collages of women I find stunning. I appreciate their beauty and see something in them I want to emulate.

My early introduction to porn wasn’t wrong in my eyes. I knew it was fake, unlike some people existing today. But, in a lot of ways I am glad I found it out all early, mostly because I was knowledgable about sex and a woman’s body in a way people don’t figure out until their late-twenties. I understood my body with myself, I didn’t have to do it with another. My open view of sex and erotica is something I harness in a world that is misogynistic and shameful towards it. My adornment of sex, naked women, and media is practically a personality trait—I literally told my boyfriend I thought Alice in Chains were erotic. I am a perverse woman, in a way that will forever respect the woman involved. And maybe I am this way because of my early discovery, but I’d rather be like this than embarrassed by pleasure.

Yet, in the current standing of the world and internet, porn, camming, and OF has become a damning issue. An issue that deserves its own piece due to the deep dive horror of it all. But, my fondness for this cam girl is harshly connected due to the nature of her retirement. I found a clip of her on the bird app with no information about her. I thought she was pretty and wanted to know more about her. Sometimes a girl is just good at her job and I have a right to “stan” a woman in that field; the pin of a pornstar on my bag agrees.

Anyway, my research if you will, aided in my collage since she became the focal point. I though she was enchanting, she had a great energy about her, she was pretty, and her camming sessions were high quality. My admiration for her met a sad end when I found out she doesn’t cam anymore. I sat and watched a recorded video of her last stream while simultaneously watching Twilight Breaking Dawn: Part Two. I still don’t have a clear understanding of why but seeing her breakdown in tears at certain points in the stream made me love her even more.

She spoke of some of the people she dealt with while camming. The grueling callousness of her “fans”, overall lack of respect, and being unhappy with the messages she had been receiving. She spoke about being somewhat scared to retire since her life will change drastically. As I laid in bed watching her hit her vape and answer questions I began thinking of her life. My imagination is unfettered, I can easily picture myself somewhere and come up with what I think it’s like. Gotham City is the easiest for me to do this with. But, I almost got emotional with her while imagining what this life of being a cam girl was like for her—the good and the bad—and how I’d probably feel the same if I was her. How the romanticization (that I still do) of it is so far from the reality, at least for her in some areas. Maybe some girls have a better reality, but from what I gathered she was dealing with a lot.

After I finished her stream I knew she’d make her way into more collages of mine. She’s become someone I adore and find something in just like the playmates on my wall or the various pornstars I like. Or just like any other woman I admire. I cannot find a reason why I am enchanted by certain women, I just am. I recognize something in them no matter how they are viewed in the haunting gaze of the societal hierarchy. Women who like sex, make money off of it, and talk about it aren’t whores or objects, they’re just women. And I know that isn’t news but still I feel the need to reiterate it.

But, I now stan a cam girl who doesn’t post anymore.

note…

thank you for reading!! i plan to work on a poem directly about her because i feel inspired, but i will definitely post when either are finished. i hope you enjoyed this piece and find it interesting!! sending my love!!

- sister honey <3

The playlist I am opening this piece with holds the title of what was going to be my second poetry book. I spent over an hour trying to find a song to encapsulate my mood this evening, which prompted me to listen to some older playlists from ‘22 (the year the haunts me), yet through my misty eyes one song wouldn’t suffice.

Back in August I rewatched Before Sunrise on a Saturday night and was struck with a moment of the past and present coexisting. In ‘22 I religiously watched the the first two movies of the trilogy, resonating in an almost painful way to Celine. At my core, her in the first movie, but as the years went on — accompanied by additions to the playlist above — I became her in the second movie.

I don’t know which movie her I am now. But that night, I had a glimpse of a life I once lived, which filled me with bittersweetness. Even prompting me to write a tiny (and unedited) poem about it. That year, that self, that life winked at me just for a moment.

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i opened my blinds for the first time in months
before sunrise sits on my television 
as i stare at the moonlight on my floor.
in another time i have watched this before,
the moonlight on the carpet 
as i smoke out the window between poems
pondering the passing cars 
and the seventh sword in my back.
i have seen this self before 
in a different house 
with a younger dog 
a better mind, a better perspective. 
in some place and time 
this moonlight is still sitting on that carpet
just as it is right now.

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I gave up on the war of trying to be my old self about two months ago. I thought if my poet self or at least the self of ‘22 came back, everything I was struggling with would fall into place. But, the release of her eased this ever-growing muck and rot inside of me and actually led to some progression. Yet, tonight, I am struck with the longing once more. (A more in-depth piece about that war if you are interested)

This longing came and sat with me as I was journaling about my fears surrounding my lack of motivation and dreams in this little life of mine. Fears because I used to have them. I dreamt of being a poet, spending time in Italy sometime around my fourth or fifth book, possibly writing a screenplay, while having this apartment I have been using in my daydreams since I began writing Spencer Reid fan fiction in 2019 — I still use the apartment to this day, even built it in sims.

I was filled with motivation due to the poetry, it was the one thing I was working towards. Poetry felt like a calling, something I was absolutely meant to do. My empathetic self has always felt like I was meant to write to make others feel less alone, but sometime ago I stopped caring about that. My sorrows stopped being a tool, they just became sorrows I couldn’t analyze.

My main goal has always been to be happy, to not dread waking up like I used to. I have never been much of a future person, I can never see that far ahead and prefer not to. Things always change, I can’t put all my eggs in one basket. I can’t hope for much because hope has never been a friend of mine. I was once an optimistic idealist yet somewhere down the line I became quite the pessimistic nihilist. My spirituality has dwindled, my altar collects dust and I don’t romanticize much anymore. It is hard to dream when you constantly wonder what’s the point.

And maybe my motivation died when I came to the realization that my poet life wasn’t going to get me far. I saw how many people were trying to do the same as me and I didn’t see that future anymore. I didn’t believe my words mattered, I still don’t a lot of the time. I used to be such a renaissance woman and now I read my old poetry and wonder how I came up with that. I forgot so much of what I had learned and so much of what I taught myself when I dove into dealing with my trauma and understanding myself. All my work was tightly tied with a ribbon, but torturously, the knot came loose and I am scrambling to pick up the pieces.

All I see now when I think of my future is that apartment, that sometimes transforms into a house, while I work at a restaurant and maybe — if the magic comes back — being a writer on the side. I have been trying so hard to let go of who I used to be, but I feel the hole of her so drastically sometimes. I whole-heartedly believe she was ripped out of me due to a bunch of bullshit I don’t care about anymore. Maybe it was a multitude of things, but nonetheless, I lost who I always thought I’d be.

I know I have made progress in some areas and I am proud of that. I will never not take things day by day. I continue to journal to make sure my memory stays sharp. I continue to talk and hangout with the people whom I love in my life. I still get out of bed everyday because my dog greets me with utter joy. I constantly find ways to be creative. I still have my simple pleasures and my hobbies. But, tonight, I long for something I may never have again.

note…

thank you for reading if you did and i hope everyone has been well!! this is all that i know to write about anymore. but i guess it is good that my sorrow made me write something.

- little priestess <3

Being brought out of my hibernation because of the harrowing discourse surrounding Miss Sabrina Carpenter, feminism, and submissive culture is something I would’ve never anticipated. I am going to play with the sexual component first, most of the discourse is about that. Then, why this is clearly satirical, and finish it off in a pretty pink bow; I’ll tie it around my tongue to sweeten it, since I might get bitchy.

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This cover garnered a slight jaw-drop from me when I opened my email and saw the announcement. She looks to-die-for, absolutely stunning. But I also love any sort of art that is erotic, seductive, and salacious. The wall at my desk features old Playboy centerfolds, my collages include pictures of Stoya, I watch porn, and a dozen of my poems are about sex. Now, do all of these things mean I am reversing feminism? No, they don’t. Does it mean I am catering to the male gaze inside my own bedroom? No, it doesn’t.

I collect Playboy to get them out of some 50-year-old dad’s basement and give these women a place to be admired for their beauty, not sex appeal. I’ve included them in past collages to tell the story of a poem or where I was in my love life. I don’t sit here and view them as anything but beautiful women who went into the sick world of Playboy without realizing the brutality behind the scenes. Fuck Hugh Hefner. You can research that or watch the mini-series. I send my regards if you get to the part where Sondra Theodore talks about her experience, especially about Linda Lovelace.

But, do the women of Playboy — especially the ones who are still famous today — belong on a list of being anti-feminist because they posed nude or were included in a magazine that fed men? Do the women in the porn industry belong on that list too? I like sex, does that mean I am a normal person, a pick me or just a slut? Where is the line for women when it comes to being openly sexual, where does it shift from reclaiming your sexuality to degrading yourself?

It’s only degrading because it’s public, isn’t it? A public display of art that includes a submissive sexual component is automatically seen as catering to men because men are the only ones who can dominate, right? Men can only like sex, right? I am asking a lot of questions because I shouldn’t have to explain these things. I shouldn’t have to share my portfolio of experience when it comes to men only using a woman for sex, I get it. I know that men want a virgin who is a whore.

The plethora of women saying Sabrina needs to “stand up” and that she is “degrading” herself was astronomical. I understand the perspective of it being that women shouldn’t allow themselves to be viewed as less than a man; to not kneel before him and submit, but what if you’re into that in a sexual setting? Even if I enjoy being submissive in the bedroom, I still hold my power and independence outside of it. I still support feminism, pro-choice, and being treated like a human being; things can coexist. Like, does anyone actually listen to Sabrina? She likes sex. Whether or not she is into what the cover suggests, it should be somewhat understood that she is open with her sexual themes, yet has an understanding of how men are.

And yes, a majority of men tend to view women in a sexual tone, so how they appear in the bedroom is all they are to them. But, is it really that damning for a woman to want her hair pulled in the bedroom? Is it really setting feminism back 100 years? Her position being called “degrading” is so ironic to me because in any Dom/Sub sexual relationship, the sub is the one who has all the control; it is solely based on their consent.

But genuinely, like, where are the freaks? The ones who say “Me!” anytime they see a picture of Maggie Gyllenhaal in Secretary? Where are the perverted women, the ones who aren’t ashamed of liking what they like? You can’t tell a woman to stand up when she is in a position most of us take it in. The stigma around sex and women’s sexuality will never change, I fear. Kinks and fetishes will always be seen in a judgmental light — I don’t judge even if it’s not my cup of tea. As long as the kinky acts are performed consensually and aren’t illegal, then rock and roll.

It is incredibly healthy to indulge in pleasure and find physical connection with another. There shouldn’t be any shame in talking about sex. There should be no fear when saying you like pleasure. But the stigmatism is so severe, and women will be shamed for it even if they are talking about it satirically. Her cover isn’t her not “reading the room”; it is showcasing a woman being in a position she feels men view her in, or even how she crawls back to them. Yet, even if it wasn’t satirical, it is a sick album cover.

But, outside of the irony, submissive positions are what they are; they aren’t perpetrating anti-feminism. Submissive kinks and acts are pleasurable; they aren’t making you any less of a powerful person outside of the bedroom, unless you want that. You can be a feminist but find pleasure in degradation in the bedroom; they can coexist. You should be having intercourse with people who have the mental capacity to understand your kinks are just kinks and that you are a person who deserves respect, care, and understanding outside of wanting to be choked.

note…

thank you for reading if you did and i hope everyone has been well!! i know i have been gone, but just had to write something about this since it has been irritating the shit out of me. okay bye!!

- sister honey <3