On the decline!

I’ve got some things I want to say to you now. Can’t keep harboring all this resentment. You’re ridiculous. Interpret every situation as hostile. Kindness might as well be indifference. Indifference might as well be pure evil. Keep dreaming about how much you miss people. Put them into situations that never existed. I resent you. You do nothing. You claim writing is your whole life but you don’t even fucking do it. Claim to identify with things you don’t even fucking touch. Think it’s destiny because one person flicked their eyes at you one time and now they don’t even care. Think whatever is inside is automatically outside. Think you can even dream of penetrating the ocean in your head. The one that makes every sound distorted, every real thing muted. Only good for dressing up to go places and then being miserable in those places. Only good for arguing with people for some bare minimum kind of thrill. Only place you can get your thrills. Only place you can fucking get your thrills. Reject everything before it happens. Reject yourself before it happens. Live like you’re dead. Live like you’re already fucking dead. Live like you’re already fucking dead. Harbor everything, do nothing. Live like it’s all you’re fucking built for. Make up only to forget. Make up only to forget. Act like one trap could possibly be better than the next trap. Act like there could possibly be anything in this world that isn’t a dead end. Can’t even get close to anything. Can’t even have sex. Can’t even look yourself in the face without being the same person who looks every other person in the face. Can’t even let yourself down in front of yourself anymore. Can’t even remember. Can’t even fucking remember. Can’t even live with the fact that you experienced all of these things just to not be able to fucking remember. Can’t even argue with you. Can’t even muster that much.


This is Tosca’s Kiss

I wish I had black eyes and long, dark hair that curled foreseeably and constantly around my waist, and bangs that curled too, and a devoutness to something so intrinsic, not even open rebellion can overcome it, I wish I had something that would make me, Murderess, look like an angel to the eyes of God, I wish Judgment Day could be something I look forward to, because I know the court I am going to doesn’t judge blindly, I wish I had so little, I’d throw myself into the Tiber River, I wish I couldn’t tell the sound of a blank from a gunshot. I wish I could stab my attack dog in the heart and forgive him immediately, and light candles all around his body, and I wish I could not be afraid of saying “Scarpia— before God.”


Is letter writing like your hobby

Dear Eireann,

Maybe we should have stayed in Hampton together. But when I was on that page, I felt like you weren’t, and now you’re on it and I don’t think I can be anymore. What I wouldn’t kill brutally to go back to that time and place. Everything seemed like it was aligned, but it couldn’t really have been, could it? The green light is escaping us, and we’re Gatsby. We’re all just collectively Gatsby.

But I think if it’s not right now, there will be a time when everything converges. THAT is my religion. I believe it.

And there was that brief increment of time, like three weeks, where I could have done something drastic, but I didn’t do it. And I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all the drastic things I didn’t do, because I can only remember the drastic things I did do.

But you know, the other thing is, I can’t understand anything until it starts peeling away like it’s started peeling away, and maybe in the end, that’s all this will be about. Maybe in the end, I am here for the least obvious reason to anyone on the planet but the most obvious one to me.

But maybe, this is all there is and we need to remember we don’t have anything except what we have.


Apology letter to myself

To My Dearest,

I’m so sorry for all of these dead ends lately. (D-E-D, dead.) I just can’t seem to be able to put two and two together anymore. Like what you want from me and whether or not I can execute it, but the truth is, I am capable fully of executing anything in the world that you want and I will.

I haven’t been addressing you the way you deserve or with all the care you deserve. Don’t bother forgiving me for it. It can (and should) haunt my conscience. Kill me slowly.

I am mostly writing this to show you that I am not ignoring you and I’m so sorry we haven’t really spoken looking each other in the face in a while in the way we used to. I think it’s the shock tearing us apart, and trust me when I say that it isn’t business, and it isn’t love. Our mutual clarity has not been sacrificed at anybody’s hands. The only times you feel like this are when you come back to yourself. You think it’s other forces pushing you to that spot, but you’re wrong. You do it, when you’re ready. And you know that you need it. Do your best not to forget. And by that, all I really mean is don’t you fucking forget.


do ya miss me?

(from a few days ago is my guess, because i’ve been gone for a few days)

I am awake every living second.

Sometimes I lie to my roommate about what time I got up and then she tells me she came back into the room at some point and I was still sleeping. So many holes. I’m eternally exhausted. I walk around delirious, but I don’t miss a thing.

I feel slightly like I can’t reach myself, like I keep dialing and dialing but I don’t pick up, or I do, but everything is murky. I can’t even touch myself. I’m losing everything.

When ideas, when anything, sits this long, sometimes it grows, sometimes it rots.

No, I don’t feel like anything is permanent.

I’m just buying time here.



So what do you want to say to me?


Revelation 13:5: Having less makes everything more clear. And again comes the question: at what point will I deliberately rid myself of everything I have for the sake of this state of mind? Where do peripheral pursuits end? Will there come a point when I realize, that fulfilling my destiny is more important to me than peripheral pursuits? Will I ever come to think of everything else as a peripheral pursuit and not as auxiliary to my being?


Exodus 3:5: I feel like when I fully embody what I perceive to be my persona at any given moment, i.e. the person I want to be, I am chipping away and getting closer at the person I am. It is exactly the same as when I am writing something and whatever comes is a badly translated and deeply distorted version of what’s in my head that gets closer to the origin the more I work at it, like chipping away at stone until it resembles something, until it becomes clearer, until it becomes pixelated.


Genesis 1:3: Is it enough to be loved a certain way and to a certain extent, if it is not the way or extent that you need to be loved? Is it right to accept that position in which you are loved at all, if it’s not the extent you covet? Is it moral? Is it right to let yourself be loved to a certain extent?


Genesis 1:2: Complex PTSD is a psychological stress injury present in children and adults as a result of ongoing or repeated interpersonal trauma (e.g. emotional/sexual/physical abuse, neglect/abandonment, domestic violence) over which the child/adult has little or no control and from which there is no real or perceived hope of escape.

This accumulation of trauma distinguishes Complex PTSD from the better known PTSD, in which trauma involves a single, IMPERSONAL event or group of events of limited duration (e.g. witnessing a tragedy, being the victim of a car accident, short term military combat exposure.)

In PTSD, re-experiencing the past takes the form of nightmares and visual flashbacks, while CPTSD is characterized by emotional flashbacks— sudden, overwhelming rushes of emotion (anger, shame, humiliation, abandonment, and of being small and powerless like an abused child).

More symptoms include:

1) Sense of Threat— Constantly being on guard or hyper-vigilant; strong startle action.

2) Avoidance— Of thoughts, feelings, people, places, activities relating to the trauma (i.e. dissociation, derealization).

3) Emotion Regulation— Emotional sensitivity, reduced ability to respond to situations in an emotionally appropriate and flexible manner.

4) Negative self-concept— Feelings of worthlessness and defectiveness.

5) Toxic Shame— Virulent Inner + Outer Critic.

6) Interpersonal Problems— Difficulty feeling close to another person; feeling disconnected, distant, or cut off from other people (depersonalization, social anxiety).

CPTSD is different from Borderline Personality Disorder, which is characterized by fear of abandonment, shifting self-image or self-concept, shifting idealization and devaluation in relationships, and frequent impulsive and suicidal disorders.

In CPTSD, fear of abandonment is not a requirement, self-identity is consistently negative rather than shifting, and relational disturbances highlight chronic avoidance of relationships rather than a sustained chaotic engagement.

CPTSD develops when traumatic events/experiences are:

  • repetitive, prolonged, or cumulative
  • interpersonal (direct harm, exploitation, and maltreatment including neglect/abandonment/antipathy by primary caregivers or other ostensibly responsible adults).
  • occur at developmentally vulnerable times in the victim’s life— early childhood or adolescence, or later in conditions of vulnerability associated with disability, disempowerment, dependency, age, infirmity, etc.

Unlike PTSD, traumatic stressors are interpersonal, pre-meditated, planned, and caused by other humans, such as violation and/or exploitation of another person. In general, interpersonal traumatization causes more severe reaction in the victim than does traumatization that is impersonal, the result of a random event or an “act of God,” such as a disaster or an accident, due to its deliberate vs. accidental causation.

There are many causes of CPTSD, but childhood abuse (emotional, physical, sexual) and neglect are the most common. Examples of other causes of CPTSD may include ongoing exploitation (e.g. sex trade work), exposure to traumatic situations (e.g. bullying, domestic violence, war, mental illness, addiction); displacement (refugeeism), and discrimination and disempowerment as in the case of many indigenous peoples.


Developmental Trauma Disorder (DTD)

Disorders of Extreme Stress Not Otherwise Specified (DESNOS)

Traumas associated with CPTSD: long-term traumas; victim is held in captivity, physically or emotionally (e.g. concentration camps, POW camps, prostitution brothels, long-term domestic violence, long-term child physical/sexual abuse, organized child exploitation rings)

Chronic victimization + total control


  • Emotional Regulation: persistent sadness, suicidal thoughts, explosive anger, or inhibited anger.
  • Consciousness: forgetting traumatic events, reliving traumatic events, having episodes in which one feels detached from one’s mental process or body (dissociation).
  • Distorted perception of the perpetrator: attributing total power to the perpetrator, becoming preoccupied with relationship to the perpetrator or with revenge.
  • Self-perception: helplessness, shame, guilty, stigma, a sense of being completely different from other human beings.
  • Relations with others: isolation, distrust, or a repeated search for a rescuer.
  • One’s system of meanings: loss of sustaining faith or a sense of hopelessness or despair.

Symptoms similar to Borderline, Dependent, or Masochistic Personality Disorder.

Defenses become fixed and maladaptive.

FIGHT : aggression

FLIGHT : withdrawal

FREEZE : assessment

FAWN : compromise —> “pleasing people” approach

PSYCHOGENESIS: entwined serpents of perfectionism and endangerment; the inner critic; safe enough bonding and attachment is lacking

Passive abandonment = neglect

Active abandonment = abuse

Hypervigilance; child effectively becomes superego (self-critical conscience) with no room to develop identity; critic-driven child, too much or not enough

extremely rejecting families —> obsessive/compulsive perfectionism


I would love to be your witness.


I had this moment of ex-reality, I want to have it again and again and again and again and


I can feel this eternity ending.


What do you want to say to me?




Hi. Am I allowed to be free here? Whatever it is keeps eluding me. Getting closer doesn’t help. Erasing all the edges doesn’t help. There’s these rings and these rings and these rings around my brain. I’ve always been still, I can’t take it anymore, I can’t, I’d rather die, I’d rather die, I’d die, I’d die, now, I’d die.


It looks like you’re doing well. Good, I’m happy for you. You know, I’ve never really been happy for myself because I don’t feel like I’ve gone anywhere. Maybe I should leave next time. If I stay, I’ll never change.

I’ve been thinking about you because we’re in the same city and because I feel like we used to be something to each other and I find myself wanting to talk to you but I know I can’t.

I don’t blame you, if I was you confronted with someone like me, I think I’d DIE, I COULD JUST DIE.

I miss you. I don’t know what it is, but being here has made me feel like I did when we were still in each other’s worlds, and

I never got any real closure, I just kind of covered it with who I became and it’s a little

Difficult to still be that person for some reason.

And I liked her. And if I can’t be her anymore, then

I can’t do any of the things she did, then

I’m not sure how this is going to work, and

Shut up, everything’s fine.

Remember that thing I told you, about feeling like my head is underwater? That’s what this is really about.


I’m happy you’re doing well. I’m not right now. But it’s okay. When have I ever, really? Really? Really? Really? YOU’RE WHITE AS A SHEET.



that boy needs therapy, purely psychosomatic.

I couldn’t do it. I’m back home. I think I might even stay another night. It’s bizarre, how I never particularly felt like this was even my home until I left it and I came back, how this is the only place I can really be in my own bed without worrying that anyone else can see me, where I am surrounded by so much quiet that I can actually separate myself from myself, the animal mind from the conscious, fear from logic.

I’m running, I guess. I’ve quelled myself a little, kept whatever I was feeling yesterday at bay, but I don’t want to go back.

At least I didn’t, but now I’ve been thinking that I should. And I shouldn’t stop. And I should take back whatever is plaguing me, because it isn’t me. This isn’t what I asked of myself and I’ll be damned if I let it wear my face.


I Know You Want This For Life


I can’t fully process how I feel about coming back tomorrow. I feel like I’m just gonna hit the ground and crash through everything without feeling it. Is that even possible? It has to be. It’s gonna feel like when the airplane lands.

I didn’t even know the severity of my abandonment issues until today but I know now and I know that is the thing that explains everything about me, every single thing. Everything in my life and everything I’ve been afraid of and everything I’ve done has always been about this one thing.



In some horrible and off nostalgic way, I’m gonna miss this place, the winding roads at night, the trees I’ve fantasized about hitting, where the only things to do are exchange existential agonies with the dude working the Himalaya at Fun World who dares you to scream as loud as you can while he keeps the ride going because nobody else is in line and walk down dark roads leading nowhere and drive to the mattress store just to ride the elevators and go to IHOP because it might as well be the club just because it’s still open at 9 p.m. and the mattress store just closed.


I need to orchestrate a master plan to freak my roommate the fuck out because this may be my only chance. I was gonna spare her before, but she’s way too happy-go-lucky. I already have the plan where I change all our light bulbs to disco lights, but that’s not enough. I want to adopt this whole persona. Maybe I’ll wear a Halloween costume every day or put pictures of Jim Jones on the wall.




I’m trying to immunize myself to this fucking song.


I know none of this will last forever. I’m gonna un-become and become myself again. Everything I have now will die.


It has to. I want to die with it.


(Just in case anyone cares, I burned those plastic flowers to the ground) (Two of your bracelets, too) (I missed you once but I’m over the whole world) (I’m getting pretty good at this)