monthly me | september ’17

when your heart was open wide,
and you loved things just because
like the sick and the dying

– rilo kiley

Hey gang. No exclamation points here but I am here and I have returned for the only thing in my life that is consistent. Are you well?

from the camera roll

september

September, in truth, was my first full month in America. It’s been a lot.

This month, I (officially) started uni. Again. It’s been a strange time, because despite my having done this “wow so new!” thing before, I’m doing it on a different continent. It makes for interesting character development to say the least. I’m living in a dorm for the first time, because I definitely did not do that last year. Several of my two-days-straight-without-moving-from-bed days would have been made infinitely less possible with a roommate like 50 other people on the floor.

I’ve done a lot of watching, to tell you the truth. After my trip to New York and the UN (a really, really good time) I moved in and started class. I’m a little upset at how juvenile things are. The uni classes have been like a slap in the face – that is, they slapped me back to high school. Like, homework and attendance and participation points? Where am I? Is 2013 Shalom okay? Not to negate the upstanding nature of the university or anything, it’s just that it’s a little bit of a backwards shock after last year’s uh. Year.

Teenagers are in love and it’s both revolting and heartwarming to watch. Really, by the second week of class, there were about five or six couplings that happened within the dorm. I’ve grown tired of people meaning well and telling me, “you’ll find someone”. How many times can I flick a recent high school graduate on the nose and yell, “DID I ASK?” in my head? Every day, the number rises. Stay tuned for updates.

I’m not a sour Sally about people being happy. I could never be – I thrive on happiness, especially that of others. It’s part of my “give too much of myself and try to fill the space with positive reactions from others” complex. I’m worried about how it’ll mess up our dynamic as a family (because our hall is a family – I’m the mom. It’s fitting.) if things go south.

That said, the community I live with is lovely. The RAs are lovely, my roommate is lovely, the boys who live next door and ask me to use a bowl when they’ve run out are lovely. There are a lot of Cancerians on the floor – something like 9? Maybe that’s responsible for the vibe.

My brain, she’s trying. I had a follow up appointment with psychiatric services on Friday that I did not go to, but we all know I should have – myself included. I don’t know. I’m currently manic, and I’m a bit worried about myself. I wish I could stop thinking that everyone actually just puts up with me. I wish my hair didn’t make me so dysphoric. I also wish I had money and didn’t get fired, but here we are. Thanks, September.

tunes & vids

but the lows are so extreme that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence

when you outgrow a lover / the whole world knows but you

put on your makeup, i laid out your favourite sweater
it’s just a number darling, dry your eyes

doilooklikeimleftoffbadandboujee?

other loves

  • “Bet you rue the day you kissed a writer in the dark.” – I bet you do.
  • I read some very good fics this month. I should text Chyanne about them.
  • Beanby! We have a beanbag chair. He’s called beanby, and he’s been home to many a cry time. A good boy, a kind boy.
  • My drama teacher sent me a message saying she’s proud of me, and I haven’t opened the message because I look at it every day. (Thank you, Meghan.)

 

snippets of internal monologue

  • how much can i actually twist until i pretzel?
  • i can feel the blood moving in my veins. what is this? am i becoming something else?
  • narrator: manic. she was becoming manic.
  • i just want to not be uncomfortable with the things that everyone is happy about and that i am happy about but can’t process because brain oh BRAIN
  • i’d be a good thanksgiving sacrifice. not a lot of meat though, all the gross fatty bits.

It’s almost after one. I haven’t eaten or gotten any of the very pressing work I should have gotten done, done. I’d appreciate an injection of clarity and non-impulse filled motivation, because that gets my shit rocked. Really.

love and light,
shalom xo

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here’s to your fucking alibi

 

maybe i wish you were mine
maybe i wish you took time
to see just what you’ve done to me

hey, hey, you ever been a spent wreck at 2:19 in the morning? because same. baby, same.

i’ve been listening to alibi by clans for the last couple of days because of how i’ve been feeling. if you’ve been here a while, you’ll know of my self destructive tendencies and how i empty myself into bettering other people after i’ve run dry twice over. i went back to uni after six-ish months off, and nothing’s changed. how foolish of me to think otherwise of myself, yes?

alibi is a good song. the more i listen to it, the more i see every interpersonal relationship i’ve ever been a part of in it. the more i listen to it, the more i want to laugh hysterically and also climb out of my skin. the more i listen to it, the more i want to ask every single person in my life: where’s your fucking alibi?

she’s gonna tell you exactly what you wanna hear
she doesn’t mean it but she needs someone
who will dry up all her tears

i got food poisoning today! yesterday. whatever. i got me a dose of that good ol’ food poisoning and ended up skipping a really important class this morning. i thought i was feeling better, but i have this sinking feeling that i’m not as better as i had hoped. maybe it’s the food poisoning, maybe it’s the tightness in my chest that makes me want to fling myself into the outer reaches of the universe — either way, i still feel like i’m about to throw up.

i’m good at being good for something. which sounds…fine. until nobody needs that something anymore. it’s a shame, really, and i’d give almost anything to get out of this mindset. as for now, i’m doing the same things that 2014 and 15 and 16 shalom begged me to stop: being because someone else needs.

and though i know just what you’re doing
i’ll still pretend you’re right
and even though i see straight through it
i’ll still put my heart on the line

you know what’s the worst about this? it’s that the more i try to fix this for myself, the more invested i become in learning how to be a person for myself, the more collateral damage i cause within my already fragmented thought process. it’s a lot like a frank conversation i’m having with several versions of the same self. “there’s nothing wrong with mothering, shalom.” there is something wrong with it being your be all and end all. “i do this because i like to, and i happen to get validation from it so i like that too. it’s fine.” shalom, you’re running yourself into the ground because you’re feeding people by starving yourself. who feeds you? 

well, shalom,  i don’t know.

i see through it. i see through myself, and through those taking advantage of my nature, and those who can’t stand it. and still, my heart is everyone’s starting line – a good trampling is a reminder that you’re still alive unless it’s all you feel. is this getting a bit melodramatic? maybe. but also, i feel so so shit, so. yes.

she’s gonna make you feel like you’re the only one
when she’s done with all her fun
she’ll tell you it’s all in your head

people aren’t disposable, and yet, here i am. boy, do i wish i could get my head out of my ass. it’s a direct result of my being the way i am and also my existence in a world that doesn’t cater to it. it is all in my head. i only think people are finished with me because i convince myself that they need me more than they do, because that’s where i find worth. problematic? yep. fixable? ah. well.

at the end of the day, my interpersonal relationships are lopsided because of how i view myself and my worth. i know it. there’s no blame on the people who meet me and are simultaneously met with an outpouring of love that shocks them three ways to sunday. and yet…i still want to ask every person that’s seen me destroy myself time and again, and then allowed me to ruin myself for them once (twice, ten times) more: where’s your fucking alibi? where were you at the time of my overzealous self-sacrifice? what were you doing? why?

the thing is that it doesn’t matter. it’s on me. let me make it clear that i know this, alright? it doesn’t make it less shit. so, regardless of the when and where, those reports will do nothing until i find a way to stop doing this. @ everyone who does provide them, well.

here’s to your fucking alibi.

love and light,
shalom xo

diane young

 

hello friends. i started class again this week, which was great. i also had a very fun series of anxiety attacks and stress vomiting episodes, which was less fun. it’s a friday afternoon, and i’m feeling shit – per usual – and now i’m going to take apart a song that tears 2013 shalom out and makes me feel less shit.

pals, today we’re diane young.

i’ve been trying to keep my brain in a healthy space mostly out of necessity, since i got here. i don’t have immediate access to a psychiatrist who gets me, and i don’t have a doctor sister who i can text to come pick me up when i feel some of that good ol’ l’appel du vide. the last week has been an example of spectacular failing not for a lack of trying. i got caught in a stadium separated from the only person i knew and her friend, so ended up sat next to a stranger (a nice man at least) crying for 40 minutes through an anxiety attack. was i ready to be done? you bet buddy. you fuckin’ bet.

dy1dy2

live my life in self-defense, you know i love the past because i hate suspense

diane young is a funny little song. apart from the obvious play on “dying young”, the concept is lost on little to no one. a good time, not a long time; live fast, die young – the ever blessed yolo – as a generation (though i think a sense of this has existed forever) we’re mostly ready to be done with the living of it all.

there’s not much to look forward to if you’re between the ages of 18 and 30 these days. pardon me, alright – let my excessive optimism or mental health rambles take a break. the obvious aside, we’ve inherited a mess. all we do is live in suspense. will you be able to eat tomorrow? how close are you to not paying your rent this month? if you had a dollar for every dollar you owed in student loans, you know you’d still be broke? i guess the reason everyone hates millennials is because millennials hate everything because we’ve been dealt one of the worst cards.

my biggest kink is financial stability. student loans paid off? kinky.

dylaurabeckman.com

maybe the kennedy curse has a clause written for millennials, only discoverable at the ripe age of “well, shit. responsibility.” maybe all we are doing is waiting about for the grinding we’re doing to turn impossibly turn into something that isn’t exhausted piles of dust. maybe i need to get out of this mindset? maybe? yes.

where there is no hope in the future, there is no power in the present.

we’re all out of control, all playing a role. while modern vampires of the city is an album all about death, we’re still here. even if it’s somewhat flakey, somewhat torturous. whether we’re torching cars or dancing in the street or running from the government. we keep doing it. i suppose dying young can’t change our minds, so baby, we’re right on time.

love and light
shalom xo