the lost entries
I deleted my first two entries for the sheer fact that I feel like I overshared. Beloveds, if you're reading this: your words are, as always, a balm to me. I am glad you hold me in such high regard, but I assure you: most of what I am doing these days is drifting. I cannot find the words to describe how achingly alone I feel, despite the droves of people around me, despite these fantastical adventures (most of which I cannot even speak of) I've been on over the past year and a half. Even so -

manual
I have a few things I'm doing to bide my time. This is one of them - I'm happy to say I'm writing again, and I'm learning more about coding (although I am still! Quite! Bad!). I've taken up crochet, which is relaxing and makes me feel like I'm living in Poland circa 1760. I recently learned how to drive manual stick-shift. I'm learning how to be a Europop Rave Girly, which I'm not entirely sure I qualify for (being from the American south and all).

blue velvet
I put some secrets on this site. I'm thinking of putting more. It's nothing big - but it's sort of fun. Feels dangerous.

Have you ever been to a place that was cursed? I mean honest-to-God cursed. I wonder how many places like that exist around the world - these little pockets of void, where the rust and mold stain the wellwater.

movie reviews?
I'm thinking of making a page for movie reviews. I might just link my letterboxd somewhere. My favorite movies, as of 1/18/2025, are I Saw The TV Glow; The Florida Project; Anora; Blue Velvet; and Into the Spiderverse. I don't really watch shows, but I really like Arcane. God, does this feel shallow to you?
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in the woods
Two nights ago my purse got stolen when I went with my friend's mom to a gay bar (amazing, I know). Alcohol and I do not get along - it brings that void up to the light. I heard a song that reminded me of a boy, had a whole breakdown, and then just. Left. Found out my purse and phone was stolen by somebody living in a fucking addiction crisis center so it's just sort of, gone, because HIPAA or something. Oh! And I'm still unemployed. Wooo. Anyways, I heard footsteps yesterday in the bamboo behind the house, and I'm a little nervous to look out the sunroom windows now.

conclusion
So I'm gonna try and write some more, I think. I wish Max didn't remind me of the fucking boy so much but it's hard not to think of him when writing the descriptions. I'm noticing that words are coming to me easier, the more I submerse myself in the process of it all. I just need to remind myself not to take it too far - not to hide from reality between hastily-written entries on ill-fiting templates.