It’s difficult to focus on writing when there’s been so much life to live. I am exhausted physically but mentally wound up. I think my body needs to rest, and my mind needs to slow down. Burnout is real, and the signs of it are showing. Living is intoxicating though, despite the lows sprinkled in. If anything, those lows are merely valleys to wander through, and they help me appreciate the highs from the mountaintops once I’m there.

I’m talking far more now than I have in several years. It’s not that I didn’t want to talk before, there just wasn’t a plethora of things to say. My life was very one-note, which wasn’t a bad thing necessarily. At the very least, it wasn’t sustainable and I see that now. I wish I could take the words that run through my head and string them together. It’s taken me thirty-two minutes to write the few words that I have. I get so distracted sometimes. I don’t even know what I’m trying to write anymore. I know there’s a point to it, I feel that it exists. Perhaps my writing’s sole purpose is to help me heal. Living and writing and healing. That actually sounds a little cringe but I’m pushing past it.

Here are some things that have happened lately:

I went on a mini-vacation over Memorial Day weekend. I drank far too much, slept very little, had three seizures BUT (and I’m not being sarcastic here) was in desperate need of the trip as a whole. I needed to get away from my apartment, Chicago, and the state of Illinois altogether. I needed to not think about real life for a few days, and that’s exactly what I was able to do. I also went to a strip club and had an out-of-body experience while talking to one of the dancers, Honey. You read that correctly, I said while talking. I wonder if there’s such a thing as being too gay.
I went on a mediocre date, which turned into a bad second date, and ended with awful dry sex. I need to be better at saying no. Not every one that gives me attention is deserving of my time, regardless of how much I adore being paid attention to.
I had probably one of the best sexual experiences I’ve had in terms of going beyond what I know and am comfortable with. For anyone out there thinking about expanding what you do sexually, this is your sign to fucking do it.
There’s this person I’ve been seeing and I really like them. I think I might like them too much but I don’t even know what that means. How can you like someone too much? I think I’m just worried about being too much. But again, I don’t think it’s possible for ME to think I’M too much. Like, I need to love myself, and not edit myself so much. I'm worried they’ll think I’m too much, but I’m going to tell myself that they don’t. There’s nothing wrong with me. But also I feel like there’s something wrong with me! Why do I feel so many things! Riding the highs, and she is one of them. She brings me flowers and writes me poems and letters.
For the third time in a decade, I got my nose pierced. The third time’s the charm.
My mom texted me saying she wishes she’d have aborted me last week. There’s context to it, but know we were arguing when it was said. I’ve blocked her number.
My ex’s attorney sent over the Marital Settlement Agreement and I still need to finish reading it. I’m more than halfway through but those sentences are long as fuck. This process is (kind of) almost over.
The bar down the street from my apartment is officially my bar. As in, I’m a regular now :)
My dad and I have talked on the phone twice now. It’s a little fast for my comfort, but it’s not bad. The conversations are only 20 minutes long and usually go by pretty quickly. It does feel weird thinking of him as a parent though. I said I loved him back after he said it first when saying our goodbyes. It didn’t feel good to say because I know it’s a lie. People-pleasing is deeply rooted for me, and I hate it.

I held my breath for so long while under the waves

That sometimes I think I’m a dead woman walking.

But then, life reminds me I’m wrong.

I breathe you in as you breathe out; you do the same to me.

A therapist once told me about a grounding exercise to help manage the anxiety.

I still use it when I’m anxious.

Name one thing you can see:
your hands on my waist

Name one thing you can feel:
your lips on my skin

Name one thing you can smell:
the sweat that drips down your face

Name one thing you can hear:
me moaning your name

Name one thing you can taste:
the gift between your thighs;
your pussy is perfect