The Sun and the Moon Never See Each Other

Dear Sun,

What we had was innocent. It was nice. It brought me this fleeting joy. But it didn’t run as deep as this. It wasn’t so magnetic, it didn’t make me stand still. You made me happy, in these fleeting moments, but you didn’t change me. You weren’t my revolution. You didn’t cause me to overthrow myself. Sun, you’re magnificent, but even stars can be swallowed up by black holes, I sure have been, mysterious black holes that sweep you away to another dimension. I’m never gonna be the same, Sun. You shone on me every single day, but you never got close enough to set me on fire.

I never wanted to hurt you. I know how it happened, but I also can’t explain what I was thinking in words that you can comprehend. I never wanted to hurt you, Sun, but what’s done is done.

You were my small detail in the painting, you sprouted over it like a weed, the most beautiful weed, how can I explain to you what it feels like to bask in the presence of the person orchestrating your whole color palette?

Maybe in another world, this never had to happen, but I don’t think I want to be in that world. I don’t have to just live with my choices anymore. I can be happy with them. I can mean it.

I am not in your universe anymore.

~Brain Mistress

In your vacuous black, stars stuck all over


3:39 PM

You will always be the hole in my heart.

3:40 PM

Letting go takes too long. I wanted to just be ripped out by the roots.

3:40 PM

Why is everything so gradual.

3:40 PM

I wish I never read The Grave.

3:42 PM

I fucking need to be watered. I feel so deprived.

3:42 PM

Who wouldn’t go crazy with this on-off switch?

3:43 PM

Abuse, love, forgiveness, power game, everything goes still. I would never ever move. I will stay still. You are so good at making sure.

3:44 PM

You know what scares me now? Distance.

3:45 PM

Make up your god damn mind.

3:46 PM

I think that is the general theme of everything. Ambiguity and indecision and breaking the trance and going back to the trance and not understanding the juxtaposition between goodness and evil, and love and abuse, and breathing and drowning, how am I supposed to make myself understand, I don’t know where to get my education from.

3:47 PM

There is so much that has stunted me. These next few years will blow me open.

3:50 PM

Can I take the light?

3:52 PM

Natalie is next on my black list, Natalie, I’m coming for you.

3:55 PM

Am I oversensitive, is this real?

3:56 PM

Separation will purify me.

3:56 PM


3:58 PM

Loss of memory: never.

3:59 PM

I really wanted to see how far I could go.

4:02 PM

I’m ungrateful and it’s because I think everything has this cosmic significance.

4:06 PM

I wonder what it would be like to take everything lightly.


Overlapping Intentions


Okay, so a few days ago, I went down a water slide in my clothes (on a raft, mind you, there’s some foresight here) and didn’t realize there was going to be a pool at the bottom somehow, and then I realized that was a giant metaphor for my relationship with my future. The lack of foresight I have is just amazing. So yeah, apparently, there’s a pool. and apparently, I am now a high school graduate.


Callum made this his fucking cover photo which kills me in more ways than one.

I graduated from high school. I didn’t think I could do it and it wasn’t easy, but I now know the harder thing will be graduating from my living situation.

I fall down so easily and I think this might lead me to study ancient Greek or something just so I can be as distracted as possible at all hours of the day, except it also takes a lot to distract me from everything in my brain.

I am pretty convinced that I need to become a mystic. I’m gonna try to communicate with the dead. I might accidentally open a portal to hell but I kind of feel like I have nothing to lose.

I need to get better at using people. I thought I was pretty good at it already, but we can do better.


Now that my life has no structure anymore, I’ve realized how much structure actually motivates me, and how much not having time to do anything makes me get more done. I kind of just want to make a list of all the paradoxes present in my life, but

No. No no no. Not at all. Okay. Let’s start over.


I’m trying to play Mandy Goes to Med School on piano, but all the notes sound wrong. Maybe I’m playing in the wrong key. I’m not even totally sure what that means. Maybe I should write a screenplay, maybe I am not cut out for fucking anything.

I need to write more cohesive things here, isn’t all this jumping around making you tired? It’s making me tired.

I think that the tone shift in my novel might be a lot easier if I just reread my diary. I said ‘reread,’ but I don’t think I’ve ever done that from the beginning. It’s got to be there. I don’t want to talk about my novel, but I can’t really describe it to other people right now except as “psychological satire,” also I’m not really sure what I’m including, what I’m extracting, what I’m withholding, what I’m going with here, but it better STICK hard.


Sometimes there’s nothing you can do to stop the river

Here’s another blog post in the string of unpublished blog posts that I wrote a few days ago and then we’re done:

Dear Sun,

The truth is, I have no idea how to pinpoint what I felt for you. It didn’t end at friendship, but I don’t know what it WAS. I have this theory that society tells people that relationships need to be either romantic or platonic, but I feel like a lot of mine fall somewhere on that spectrum in between.

I do miss you. I can’t pretend I don’t miss you. There was so much we didn’t get to do and so much we didn’t get to know about each other and I felt like we were getting to that point.

The thing is, you’re not as lost as I am. The other thing is, you’re not self destructive like I am. If you were, you would never have wanted this, and I think the thing is, I am attracted to self-destruction. You have this instinct for protecting yourself that I completely lack.

Everything was so innocent and I miss that. I think I need more attention than normal people. But maybe I was wrong about that, too, because I’m doing okay right now.

I have a strong feeling like this isn’t over but I just wish I hadn’t given you space when you asked for it. I can’t fix your inability to trust me. That is a problem so completely ingrained in you my dear.

I DON’T KNOW where to go from here with you. There’s nothing I can do, right? Right? Sometimes I’m worried I give up my power before it’s really gone.

I really want to go out to dinner! That’s all. You know when you said you’d like to take me to an intimate restaurant? I want to take you up on that offer. Pretty badly. I wish we could just both meet up in our dreams and go do that.


I feel like I keep asking people for answers but no one will give them to me. Maybe the problem is that I keep looking for them somewhere else when I am the only person who can answer my own questions. But I don’t really believe that. I’m just trying to make myself feel better.


Who cares if I am late to the party

God I don’t want to leave my brother alone next year. I don’t want to have to worry about if he’s going crazy here and I’m scared we’ll drift apart, but I know that’s not true, I think things will be better, but I also don’t want to leave him all alone. At the same time, I know I can count on him to be my CIA agent. It’s funny. I can see him having all of the emotional blocks I did. It might take him even longer to become genuine, and it is still so hard for me to be genuine while I’m here. Mostly I revert back to my same mechanisms. But I had something that helped me come into myself, despite all of the ways I’ve been stunted here. I hope he finds that. I think he’s already way better at taking back power than I am. I don’t know why it’s so different for us. But at the same time, it’s not, because I can see him doing everything I used to do, except at the time, I didn’t know why I was doing it. It felt like I was running around blindfolded.

I’m glad I’ve been writing here again. I know it’s kind of a spotty record given how there are some gaps stretching over some monumental spans of time, but I think the things you don’t say are as important as the things you do say. So why am I addressing some things and not others?

I’ve been waiting so long for things to be important. They always have been, I guess, but now, they are so important that anything I do freezes forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and

Now. Now my choices are real. Now everything is consequential. It’s always been consequential. It took me so long to become acquainted with the fact that everything I do will be drilled into my head forever.

Now I have the immense desire to work in a movie theater and see all of the free movies I want. They better accept THIS freaking application.

I hope I die before I get sick. I don’t even know how I would deal with something like that. I don’t. I’m coming up empty.


Dear Sun,

I am in SO MUCH PAIN whenever I am forced to think of you. Whenever I see your name. I now know why you did what you did. You are good at protecting yourself. I wish I was that good at it.

Dear Sun,

I am such a liar.


You have been terminated

Dear Sun,

I know I said I’d only break your heart at some point, but I could picture you breaking my heart, too. My point is, this could never have ended well. You’re not somebody I could end well with. Even if you hadn’t been brave, do you think we could have ever ended well? Nothing ends well but especially not me and especially not you. Maybe my mom’s right and you have that evil glint in your eye. She makes me think I’m the devil straight out of hell, though, too, so I probably shouldn’t trust her.

Dear Sun,

You know, I feel so much clearer now that there’s nothing I can do about you, but I can’t let go of the feeling that I should have yelled at you while I was still mad. I put that candle out. I sink everything.

Dear Sun,

But you don’t hate me? Do you hate me? Because you used to love me?

Dear Sun,

I did the right thing for myself, I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.

Dear Sun,

I can’t remember anything. I’ve redacted you.


Here’s another letter I’ve written you:

Dear Sun,

I stopped wearing your jewelry after prom. Out of love I am letting you go. I’ve set the timer back to zero. You know where to find me.

xoxo, Moon

Here’s the last letter I am writing to you.

Dear Sun,

You know where to find me.


You wish, you fool

Dear Sun,

I know you have this obsession with history repeating. I used to have it, too. I think that someday you will learn history doesn’t have to repeat. The only pattern that exists in reality is how unresolved intentions constantly surface up from under severe oppression. You will see how malleable everything is.

x  Scene.

I was on the school bus for the last time today. I was writing my bus driver a love letter and I realized midway through it that I wouldn’t finish on time, so I ripped it all up when I got off and I scattered it down the drain.

Sometimes I feel like I’m on top of the world and sometimes I feel like I’m under it. Today I felt like I was transcending.

3:16 p.m. And now I don’t// But // I // Have // Made // It // This // Far // I’m // Not // Gonna // Let // It // Kill // Me


I think we spent three months as cosmic entities

Dear Sun,

I am not going to give you back the flowers. Neither am I going to burn them or throw them away. I am going to put them back in the green room where they belong. I will simply be returning a prop. Maybe you’ll see them there sometime. You shouldn’t have them and I shouldn’t have them. They never belonged to either of us, even though they belonged to both of us. It doesn’t mean that I take back what happened. I can’t take it back and I wouldn’t take it back. I needed it and someday you’ll see that you did, too. It hurts to see you, but I know you don’t hate me, and I don’t hate you, either.

You will never read this. Not any of it. Maybe if you did, you would understand. But it’s okay. I’m not trying to justify it.

I would hold onto you, but I feel like I’m reaching above-ness and I can’t touch the ground anymore. You may have taken my name, but you can’t take what I am.


Bling bling bling bling bling

(5.24.17) Yes, I know I’ve been posting a lot today. I think it’s helping me.

I have a lot of things I need to do and tomorrow is my last real day of school and I’m gonna need to somehow squeeze it all in. I have to give people back their things, I have to ask people for signatures, I have to have some serious talks with some people. I don’t know how I’m going to do it all. I guess even though I’ve been kind of scared, it’s dawned on me how the only thing keeping me alive this whole year has been the constant assurance that this is gonna be over soon. Now, the thing I’m talking about is not over yet, it may never be over, but in a few months, I’m gonna be able to distance myself from it and look at it from a bit of a removed perspective. I’ve been afraid of becoming completely removed from this thing that’s responsible for my whole identity, but I know that I’m not going that far and I could become completely re-immersed in it if I chose and I most likely will be whether I make that choice or not.

I think there are a lot of underground desires that I have that have caused the stars to align this way. I received a waitlist update from NYU a few days ago, and they said that so far, they’ve admitted 925 more students off the waitlist and they still might admit some more. At this point, my hope has almost entirely faded, but I wish I could stop being on the line all the time.

I’ve been thinking about how long it’s taken me to build up any confidence in the things I do, and how hard it will be to build that same kind of confidence up for any other thing I pursue. And that’s still not saying that much, because I am not that confident in anything. I mean, okay, I’m not giving myself enough credit again, I can ACTUALLY DEAL WITH SOME THINGS NOW.

I am now going to talk about some things I really want to do now that I’m back in the sphere of being capable of wanting things. Cool. I really want to learn to drive a motorcycle sometime. I want to drive a motorcycle while wearing a leather jacket. I also want to learn how to pilot a plane. I think it’s just a combination of romantic appeal and the illusion of power. I think it’d be cool to impulsively sneak aboard a ship and become a sailor for a little bit. I feel like I wouldn’t get too seasick. I want to travel practically everywhere. Even Australia. If there’s a snake in my shower pipes, then maybe I can write a horror story about it. I want to go to the desert. I want to recreate Ferdinand Magellan’s little sea voyage and die in the Philippines. I want to write until I am empty and then fill myself up and write again. I want to open a theater and then abandon it and I want to make films and I want to start an underground mafia that operates under the guise of a really cool and obscure restaurant and I want to architect a whole city except that would make me feel too much like I am God and I want to go dancing and I want to be in a band and I want to start my own theatre troupe and I want to expose evil scandals and I want to do only everything I want for the rest of my life but that’s not gonna happen and I want to enjoy dressing up for funerals and when the apocalypse happens, I don’t want to be there for it.

No one is going to tell me how to dress. (I might wear my bra on the outside of my shirt tomorrow because my dad said it’s better than if my bra is visible underneath.) No one is going to stress me out of my mind every time I want to make plans. No one is going to tell me what I can and cannot do. No one is going to make me feel like I don’t have power over myself.

Don’t fool yourself, sunshine, this summer isn’t going to be like anything you’ve known. The past fucking year hasn’t. There are no exceptions to this new rule. Not now not never.