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And now for something completely different:

I attempted journalism and a lot of people liked it!  Rated second highest views all of last week on the whole site. Here’s my article on Feminism, Playwrights, and You!:


on Facebook

  • I see you Like a link of an article that is such fucking old news that it makes me hate you a little more than I already did
  • and I thought it was impossible but here I am hating you more and more,
  • the increments measurable by how many times you change your profile picture
  • I know it’s not healthy because the other day I noticed another man from my past had listed what I considered to be a shitty new job
  • and I did not feel joy and I did not feel sympathy
  • but I felt a spot of rage
  • Just that he was continuing his existence,
  • however aimless,
  • without me
  • And then just to torture myself for a few more minutes
  • I clicked on a third and was briefly distracted by how I must be drawn to men whose name start with that certain initial
  • And if you think I’m going to indulge myself as well as you and say it here
  • then you don’t know me
  • Because anybody who’s anybody to me knows what letter of the alphabet I’m talking about
  • And if you don’t then I must not have you
  • on facebook 

Baby’s First Bonghit

We came into this bedroom
And they turned on the desk lamp and the floor lamp and the Christmas lights on the wall
And there’s always light coming through the window from some car coming or going
And there’s someone’s laptop glowing
but really there’s only one light in here that glows just for me
You know, it doesn’t matter to me how many people pass that lighter around
or if you try to tell me it’s only light because of some chemical fluid
or point out that we’re passing around in a circle of ten people
It doesn’t matter because this lighter works just for me.
I’m the only one who really makes that spark just so
just so
I love that little yellow flame and the colors mix with the green and the orange
and I know it loves me too.

Have you ever really looked at this porch?
I mean, I looked at it, but not really. 
This is the twenty-third party I’ve been to at this house
And the fifth time I’ve come out to this porch
just tonight (but who’s keeping count)
Like every time
I’m going to find
something different.
But even if there was something different
It’s too dark and I shouldn’t see shit.
They only have one light that works out here
And I guess there’s the moon.
I said I shouldn’t see shit
because I actually do
I’ve just been out here so many times
that I’m used to seeing everything in the dark
and it looks fine.
The more parties I go to here,
the more I wonder if they’re gonna fix that light
The more parties I go to at all,
I wonder if I’ll ever be able to see in the light at all
like, I wonder if I’ll ever be fully lit again.

I’m frenetic
I’m panicking
when I go back inside
I’m asking friends
I’m asking who?
I don’t even know
Have you seen that boy?
The one with the floppy hair
And the bright pink eyes
Have you seen that boy?
The one who was just puking
And he said it was serious
Have you seen that boy?
I just gave him a trash can
Have you seen that boy?
I want to give him more.

My mommy told me once that since I’m a good girl
I have this weird thing and it’s like Good Girl Points
and you build them up by being a good girl
and everyone trusts you
and lets you do anything
and loves you no matter what
as long as you never ever spend those points, just build them up forever, that’s all they do is exist.
My mommy didn’t mention that last part. I realized it myself.
But she also said not to abuse it
because one day if you use them all up by being a bad girl, no one will trust you the same way again.
Until you work to build them back up.
I bet it’s even more work every time.
My daddy told me once that if I’m ever with people
and they’re all under the influence and can’t drive me home
that I should always call him or mom
and they’ll come pick me up
and the time won’t matter
and they won’t be mad.
I never found a ride, so I called my dad.
He asked where I was, I told him, he said okay, I waited
He showed up and he wasn’t mad.
But he just said one thing, and it didn’t need to be said, because there was vomit in my hair and I was drooling a bit, he said,
“You used up all your good girl points.”

Important message to all my dear followers.


The holidays are a very difficult time for a lot of people, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and you’re not alone,

but I’m usually in a stable, relaxed emotional state in the holidays and I like to let others take advantage of that - if any of you are feeling overwhelmed for any reason these next couple days

I strongly encourage you to message me or call/text me or facebook me,

(I check this blog and facebook usually multiple times a day)

if you’re really in a tight spot, I keep my phone on throughout the night (at night, call instead of text, or I wont hear it) and if it doesn’t work you can leave a voicemail and I’ll get back to you in the morning

it is not an annoyance and I would feel worse if I knew someone was near an anxiety attack (while I sat around watching Hell’s Kitchen) because I’ve been to that point so many times I lost count.

This applies to all my followers whether I never talk to you or whether we see each other almost daily.

You don’t have to talk to me but please don’t bottle it up. You deserve better than that this holiday season.


^ Andy, Jorm, KIv, and I got your back.

[Lights up on a GIRL climbing out of a bathtub center stage.  This takes unexplainable effort.  She crawls to the toilet.]

I asked for the time ten minutes ago -
I thought that nobody cared.
Then I remembered I’m alone in here -
And I realized no one did.
You know, I sit doing homework at the computer until three AM
Thinking thoughts upon thoughts of algebra and world history
But right now
In this room
In that bath
I thought more
than ever.

My hand slipped and I got published in this cool free online zine, check it out

GAD blog.

  • TRIGGER WARNING full list available on blog.
  • Fewer or no more posts directly related to anxiety will be made on the regular writing blog
  • Some posts on this blog may be moved to the easilyspooked URL.
  • The GAD blog is very open to questions and discussion.
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