don’t you like him?


I don’t know.

no more memories.

Forgot my real journal.

Going up on the lamotrigine. Really pumped about it, only not that pumped b/c I’m super down.


I hate this time of year. Obviously I think we’ve caught on to that. Waiting on the upswing.

All of my best memories are with you.

^^^^Statements that are false. But you know when you’re sad and lonely how you can only think of one thing? That’s where I am.

“I want you to see it before anyone else.”

Why? Because you love me? Because you know I’ll be upset otherwise? Because old time’s sake?

I want to see it before anyone else. But I want it to be for me.

It’s not for me, is it?

I always hear the lyrics first. You? What do you hear?

I haven’t been hungry or full in a month or more. I eat when I shake, or when I realize I took meds without food and feel nauseated. It’s like my stomach went numb.

I talk about money too much. Fixated.


Things are terrible in the world and I am selfish.

All of my best memories are done. I feel like I haven’t made a memory in a year. Isn’t that weird? All of the memorable things I’ve done this year and I feel like I can’t remember them.

I barely remember anything. Cannot get up for work. Cannot work. But I love my work. But I’m not doing any work.

I need new music. The world needs new music. I cannot write music.

Cannot cannot cannot.

I think of things that I cannot do all day every day. Because I could have done them, if I’d learned or worked hard.

Even the things I could do, I can’t do anymore.

Who am I, if not a runner, or a dancer, or an actor, or a dog trainer, or the one who dresses nice and always look good for work?

Who even am I.

Sorry for this irrelevant stream of consciousness.

Someone write it in a song, because I cannot.

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In other news

I want to stab everyone I see today. Anyone else?

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utopian fantasy

It doesn’t really matter, though, because you’re comparing apples to oranges — universities today are not what they were even a generation ago. If diversity of thought is a problem on American campuses, it’s not because kids at Yale can’t dress up in naughty costumes for Halloween. It’s because if you’re putting yourself in hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to attend university, your primary concern is getting a return on your investment. The idea of studying a subject out of interest, or for the love of knowledge, is a utopian fantasy in 2015. If everyone at your university is there to do whatever’s necessary to pass their exams, collect their degree, and get themselves a well-paid job with which to pay back those crushing loans, then you’re not exactly creating an environment conducive to intellectual growth.

From an article on Flavorwire about the Yale Halloween/race crisis.The article itself is pretty good, but this paragraph just resonated with me.

I mean, I’m glad I used school as a means to a career. But I’m interested to know what it would have been like to…not do that.

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I hate November.

[for the ones we’ve loved too much + lost too soon, all because of a past love that’s clouding their mind. oh, november and your way of breaking all our hearts]

how can i find my home
in the darkness of your mind
you talk of her too much to let it go easy
Will you Ever let go long enough to wAnt me?

oh, because i saw, bLack as a night, ocean’s abyss of her in your eyes
i saW it when you looked through me that night
i heArd it in the whispers between Your teeth,
heard it in the way you tried to Say that you loved me
heard it in your leaving, you were packing up your things
i should have known you didn’t want me
you never had room to want me

a FlickEring of innocEnt Light,
but a fire never burns all the way through a windy night
i can’t help but notice that you LOok so NicE
oh, and november’s chiLling my spine with his call

oh, because i saw, black as a night, ocean’s abYss of her In your eyes
i saw it wheN you looked Through me tHat night
i hEard it in the whispers between your teeth,
heArd it in the way yoU Tried to say that yoU loved me
heard it in your leaving, you were packing up your things
i should have known you didn’t want Me
you never had room to waNt me

(all of the lyrics, including capitalization choices, taken directly from Liza Anne’s website).

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Doing it Wrong

Last night I had a total breakdown. It was a long time coming, but I’ve been super up and down the past couple of weeks (as if you couldn’t tell) and last night I just lost it.

I realized that for the past 6-8 months, possibly more, possibly the past 5 years…oh geez, possibly the past TEN years, I have been investing in the wrong things. Okay let’s stop with the global look at disappointing things in my life and just talk about the past few months.

My friend who called off her wedding and had an eating disorder return. I invested so many tears, so many hours of counseling, only for her to suddenly decide everything is fine and now the wedding is back on. I can’t even talk to her right now because I have so little respect for what she is doing to her fiance. I haven’t heard from her since the text that said “thanks for being my friend, the wedding is back on.”

My friend who sat on my couch suicidal for a week, for whom I missed days of work and arranged inpatient care and spoke with her family and cried with for days…months. She told me to go fuck myself once she started feeling better. I mean, borderlines will be borderline, but still.

My friend who called me hyperventilating five weeks before her wedding. My best friend, with whom I’d spoken nearly every day for the past eight months, who visits regularly and who is, did I mention, my best friend. The one for whom I worried so much that I didn’t sleep for days and had heart palpitations over and over. I haven’t heard from her since her wedding day, the one where I stood by her knowing that she meant none of the promises she made. I can’t decide if I did something wrong or if she’s ashamed. I’m obsessing nearly every minute over the week that I was with her and what I could have done so wrong for her to go a month without reaching out to me, or answering my texts and calls.

My doctor.

My friend that can’t be my friend.

My ex that I love who loves me.

I tended a lot of concrete that I thought was soil. And I’m getting the blooms one would expect from such pointless toil. I realize that this is a common problem when you’re everyone’s social worker…but man. It sucks.

Glad to finally realize why I’ve been so upset recently. I’ve known that I felt abandoned. I hadn’t realized how used I feel.

Grateful for some patients who are doing much better today. I may owe my alma mater a million dollars, but for now it seems like the only worthy investment I’ve made.

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Ruminating ruminating ruminating.


Lately everything I try to say I find has already been said but in much better words. Came here to post, and at the top of my feed was this post from Michelle Bloom. Amazing words of truth and growth.

 just because a relationship ends or is messy and hurtful, does not mean it was wrong, does not mean your instincts were off.  we are not just here to experience happily ever after.  that’s the lie.  we are here to engage in messy mistake ridden unions so that we learn how to love better.  every man i have loved, i have loved with all my heart.  and when i broke it off or he did, it’s cause it was not right to continue.  it was not a mistake.  there is only the feeling of mistake.  and this feeling is to be used to grow.

Grateful someone else is pondering things on this chilly October day – a beautiful chill here in NYC. Beautiful, painful, chill.

“I don’t want to fake my way into it or try to make it happen with a crumb giver, anymore.”

Truth. A crumb is better than nothing except that it isn’t.

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Spent all my money.

Sleep too much.

Can’t sleep.

Can’t stop crying, don’t know why.





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New music Wednesday.

So frustrating when you’re medicated out of your creativity and someone writes your life in a song. Except I love it. Thank you iTunes radio for this.

Couldn’t stay with a man who would settle for nothing more than love
Wasn’t part of her plan, tied to what she’d grown tired of
She cried over and over, not knowing what words would move him on
He cried over and over, knowing the girl he loved was gone

She said, “I can’t stay here, I haven’t got the time.
Life goes by, dear, I won’t be left behind
And someday, I’ll reach the place where I won’t have to run;
There, I won’t be afraid to say that I am done.”

Couldn’t give her a reason more to stay
Every bit of her heart the girl grew more and more afraid
Couldn’t give her the patience or a guide
Every bit of her heart she felt another second die

I heard her shout, “I’d get out, let me out, get me out!
And someday, I’ll reach the place where I won’t have to run;
There, I won’t be afraid to say that I am done.”

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