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In my own skin

I don't really know how to start this post, so I'll let out the word vomit. As days pass, I sometimes find myself more confident, appreciating my physical appearance and grateful for what I can handle mentally and emotionally. Some days I acknowledge I'm smart, pretty, funny. Yet other times I can't see any of that. A lot of times I don't really see myself as pretty, incapable of remembering a simple equation, I feel as if I'm a wet towel thrown on my friend's and loved ones. Maybe I compare myself to others often and that's my issue, that I see myself as lowly yet other times I put my self worth as high. I'm a very back and forth kind of girl if you didn't know already. I do have my moments however when I give in and embrace what I am, a girl who spends more time doing my makeup than studying, and what I enjoy like playing Hello Kitty games when I finish schoolwork or watch reality television, maybe spiral into a rabbit hole of lore after learning about a new game. But I can't deny the weirdness I feel when nobody understands what I'm talking about. They say 'to be cringe is to be free' but God does it make you writhe with displeasure when you're the cringey one. I'm coming to accept and realize that I can be harsh and cruel to myself, especially when it comes to my abilities to perform hobbies I'm passionate about. I've stopped drawing for a month because of these impending thoughts. It's like wearing a suit of flesh in hopes of getting some idea of what you are for some sense of clarity. Maybe it's because I am just a girl, or it's the human experience nobody talks about. If we did, maybe we wouldn't feel as alone or awkward but oh well, what can you do? Slowly but surely I have come to accept and embrace myself despite the faults I carry.

@emmita

Feb 19, 2025

1

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release yourself from the narrative

This might not make the most sense but if I don’t write it I know I’ll be angry with myself.  As someone who has always naturally been drawn to archives and journals and stories- I’ve found that I’ve been trapping myself in the narrative. The idea that life is a singular, vertical narrative, that pain is not simply pain but part of some bigger cycle of distribution and retribution. That pain is naturally repaid with love or safety or comfort. This narrative keeps me coddled in myself, it keeps me safe from having to face the fact that tomorrow might not be easier than today. That this year might not feel much better than last year. That as some things go on, they don’t always get lighter. They don’t alchemize from emotionally pain into material pleasure.  The hero’s journey tells us that the narrative follows simple steps. We are called- your alarm, a Britney Spears song, plays in the morning. Your car breaks down in an unfamiliar part of the city. There’s a death in the family. Whatever it is, the call is something that moves us from familiarity to the unknown. It pulls the hero into the journey. We will then face the unknown and hopefully overcome it.  But what about the calls that we don’t answer? Or when we get stuck in the unknown? What about when we are braver than brave and we still cannot overcome everything? I’ve learned that sometimes our pain doesn’t come with atonement. Sometimes there is no return.  Life doesn’t fit into the narrative. The alarm in itself is a narrative, you set it the night before, or maybe you set it three years ago and you’ve been waking up to the same song every single day. The car is a narrative, the unfamiliar side of the city is a narrative. Why haven’t you been there? The death is a narrative explored and experienced by every person in your family, every friend of the dead, every coworker who called the morning after to see why they didn’t show up when their alarm went off that day. Everything is a million narratives coinciding and to trap ourselves into one, to tell ourselves only one story, is blinding us to the intricate nature of life. We cannot exist in only one dimension, and to choose to exist in various different- sometimes beautiful and sometimes horrible- narratives at once is to choose to stop coddling oneself, to stop following your pain like it always has something to give you.  Sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe that’s fine. 

@dietcokecat2004

Mar 11, 2024

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pro life

in the sense that i support abortion. what happened to eagerness? to feeling your heartbeat and being inspired? everyone around me is living inside a shell of themselves and is too apathetic to set themselves free. middle ground this, minimalism that— why does our culture celebrate nonchalance? so scared of being different that we never are, we fade away into a diorama of what life ought to be: bikinis and slick backs and brat summers and winter arcs. who gives a shit? stop being so pretentious and kiss the people you love and put your hands in the soil. eat. pray. love. jesus, i don’t care, just hold something and tell it you love it, and *mean* it. where are the earnest goodnights? the tender goodbyes and good mornings? here’s something wild: i care. i really, really want to care.

@starbelly

Feb 6, 2025

Top Recs from @22

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Born to be terrified

I've been told that people in the army do more by 7:00 AM than I do in an entire day, but if I wake at 6:59 AM and turn to you to trace the outline of your lips with mine, I will have done enough and killed no one in the process. - 6:59 AM by Shane Koyczan we take love for granted, and i do more than anyone. i find it so beautiful that there is one pair of flesh and bones and eyes and a mouth that truly do belong at the top of the hierarchy. she is perfection and love in itself, and i remind myself that to be stagnant to unproductive may never be my fate if my day is long spent loving her.

@22

Feb 11, 2025

6

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i wake to another morning

as i promised -

@22

Feb 13, 2025

1

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the world is over

i forgot my headphones at home. i was about to either 1) pump black country new road 2) watch brooklyn 99. i miss being passionate about things, not being able to sleep, eat, speak, or fathom anything beyond the apple of my eye and the fruit of my thoughts. i miss waking up with one thing in mind, how i would explore it that day, and how i would explore it the next it’s been people it’s been sewing guitar driving religion philosophy photography writing filming blogging i think, regardless of any tik tok data explosion with the intention of ripping out each of my brain cells to keep me submissive and docile because of a wrecked attention span, i’m not a girl of her commitments- i get bored. and i am bored. i feel this lack of passion so deeply in my body, its been a catalyst for the recent crashouts ive had ( and there’s been plenty) i don’t know how to stay, and work hard, and allow myself to grow to what i want to be right in this instance. not to shine my own shoes, but i’m not super used to being bad at things. i’ve always always always coasted, and now that im trying to be a gaf (give a fuck) filled girl, ive realized, sucking at something hurts a lot more when you’ve put in the work to be good at it. if it wasn’t me writing this, and my best friend called me and told me this word for word, i would tell her how normal that feeling was, and that she herself knew what to do; commit. and that is my advice, dear sweet amalia, commit, commit, commit.

@22

Feb 18, 2025

6