velocity

my name’s shalom and i have bipolar disorder, amongst other things. friends, i am manic and i wanna write about it. it’s 11:05 pm and i can’t get my fingers to move fast enough because my brain is going far too fast, but we’re here, and now i’m gonna talk about it.

mania is a little weird, to say the least. everything is amplified and i can’t open my eyes wide enough. i get weird bursts of energy that translate to “hey, you need to spend money right now.” mostly in the form of buying stupid things like hangers, or too much tide detergent, or stickers.

according to science and medicine, my mania is hypomania. i never get to the point that i do potentially life threatening things because i’m manic, and i’m really grateful for that. i do, however, have energy levels that exhaust me. man, am i tired. my brain is a never ending “wowowowowowowow” and my body is trying to keep up with it but it really can’t.

in girl interrupted, susanna kaysen expresses it really well. she describes the two poles of mental illness as viscosity and velocity. viscosity is slow, thick, and dull. velocity is a hundred kilometers a minute. did you know that the earth moves at 1000 miles an hour to complete its rotation? i feel as though every part of my body is trying to keep up; like if i don’t move that fast i won’t rotate and make it to the next day. i know my logic is flawed, friends. overperception is one of the things that i’m very good at, manic or no. here we are. welcome to the brain.

it’s midterm season and i am spinning. i’m spinning past logic and past what i’ve worked so hard to fix, past dysphoria that i can only fix when i have long braids in, and past what i thought i knew i did when i am manic. i’ve spoken about how i feel like i’m in a plane but nobody’s flying the plane – how i dissociate and what the depersonalisation and derealisation feels like. i’m dealing.

i miss my home, and i miss my habits. i miss the island in my kitchen and the couches in the upstairs lounge. i miss crawling into the corner of my bedroom when i needed to turn things down to zero, but i’m dealing. my doctor sister told me to find support structures when i got here, and i think i have. you’d be proud, sharon.

ya girl manic, but she’s tryin’. always trying. i wonder what it’s like to be the universe, experiencing itself ironically?

love and light,
shalom xo

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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

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.

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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

monthly me | august ’17

The others can believe what they like, but I don’t believe for a second that this is the real August and the other an aberration.
And yet,  I can see how they might be fooled —

~ Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

August happened. Is still happening, as I write this. I’m reminded that this time last year was the first time I made one of these Monthly Me posts. It’s a bit strange now, when I look back on that August. Somehow, “I don’t believe for a second that this is the real August.” It sounds silly, or obscure at best, but it does the job when I’m looking for a descriptor for my feelings. In any case, August.

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Right. To begin, August has gone both agonisingly slowly and astoundingly quickly. The month began on a hill with my dear, Yasmin – who you may have become rather well acquainted with due to my frequent mentions of her and me being complete jokes singing Mary Lambert into the void and laughing about free unsweetened coffee and Macklemore. On August 5th, I began a 35 hour journey from home to new home-ish. It gets dark much later than I’m used to here, and I find myself confused at 7:30 PM because my brain and body thinks it’s 5 PM latest.

I had my parental parties with me for a week here, and I mostly just slept and went to Walmart. American shops are strange. Why are vegetables so expensive here? Systematic obesity, that’s why. All the things are crazy big here and wastefulness is terribly inherent. Except, people make a big deal of recycling. A very big deal.

My university is a goodie. By the time this is published, I’ll have moved in and just completed my leadership and advocacy program. I will also probably be crying or almost crying about near everything. I am, per usual, desperately unprepared for everything and frantically planning what little finances I have. I am, however, the newest employee of the Barnes and Noble on my campus! The things are happening and while I’m mostly terrified about everything, I’m okay with it.

SOPHIA IS GREAT. I finally met my roommate who I’d been talking to for five months prior, and our dynamic is just as good as it was over the internet, and infinitely better than the best that I could have hoped for in person. I spent the last two and a half weeks of the month in a sublet with some lovely housemates and one hell of a cat. Nalu is a mission but also a miracle. I love that boy.

August held such strange promise for me at the beginning of the year. I want to say, “Look! So much has changed!” but the biggest shift has been one of location, and despite flying for forever, the ground underneath my feet is still steady. I got here. It took a lot, and is still taking a lot, but I got here. And I got a job at the coolest cafe. And I have the coolest girl for my roommate and soul sister and forever friend. And I lived with the coolest cat for two weeks. I’m trying to stay ahead, but I’m gonna give ahead a slip and try for fully alive.

 

tunes n vids

the weather may be stormy, but the road is still before me
so pedal to the metal and drive

it could be weird, but i think i’m into it
you know i’m one for the overly passionate

oh, my heart hurts so good
i love you babe, so bad, so bad

oh, good god. this is a lot.

 

buncha other loves

  • My housemates upstairs and the stellar lil dinner we had the other night! Preston and Rachel, y’all are gems.
  • Nalu, my cat that’s not my cat.
  • Luna! My new electric-acoustic ukulele! Y’all! Life!
  • Uh, the new Kingsman II trailer. HELLO. EGGSY HELLO. HARRY’S BACK.

eggsy: we’ve got the brains, skills…skipping rope?

 

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snippets of internal monologue

  • 3 feet? That’s half a man!
  • Nobody. Has. Kettles.
  • Okay, this tax thing is getting stupid. This is stupid. I’m tired.
  • I don’t think I’ll ever read Neruda without feeling feeling again. Shalom,.the fic wasn’t even that emotional! Please girl. Get a grip. Tell Chyanne about it.
  • OOOH ground SWALLOW ME UP just like that!!!

 

That’s it done. That’s August, done. Do you mean to tell me that the end of the year is stealthily approaching and that I’m ignoring it? Well, I could have told you that.

love and light,
shalom xo

currently #4

currently, i am sat in a barnes and noble in new jersey, typing away on candice,(pronounced kan-dees) my new computer. i’m sipping on a starbucks iced vanilla latte that i got along with a fancy cheese and pesto panini sandwich (??) and a packet of chips for $8 ($8.55 after tax, because nobody told americans that a good idea would be to include the full price including tax on the shelves) and i’m confused about why they’d give me a venti for the same price as a tall. also, everything is air conditioned and it throws me off, man. america.

currently, i’m sat looking at a building that, much like the university, predates the independence of the united states. the trains from new york and further north come past every so often; right now one’s going in the other direction but i don’t know my bearings well enough to tell you where it’s headed. people get off and walk with purpose, and others breeze through the wind before summer rain. a man with a briefcase and sunglasses on his head looks up at the cloudy sky, and shakes his head at himself.

currently, i’m listening to come on eileen and thinking of 2014 and grade 11. i’m thinking of jessica craven and a joke about a red dress. i’m thinking of a history teacher that made me realise i never want to act less intelligent than i am for anyone’s comfort, ever again. i’m wondering about the time at home (it’s 10:34 pm) while it’s 4:34 in the afternoon here. i’m thinking of yasmin and her cat, and her line jumping sister. bless, wits comedy jam.

currently, i am regretting the aforementioned iced vanilla latte. i forgot that i don’t do caffeine very well anymore. it probably has something to do with my medication, which sets my resting heart rate at 122 bpm. my doctor was a liiiiiiitle terrified, but i’m always terrified, so it’s okay. i’m okay. i’m berating myself for not taking my meds on time because time zones messed up my schedule, and while i never suffered from jetlag, all the lil shortages of neurotransmitters in my head did.

currently, i’m wondering how real all of this is. i made the big mistake of re-reading jean paul sartre’s nausea on the plane, and the big existential think that is my daily disposition flew into overdrive. i’ve been stuck in that overdrive for the week that i’ve been here. so far, all that really helps bring me back is the reality of how broke i am, and the tunes of walk the moon and the arctic monkeys. ~argumentative, and you’ve got the face on.~

currently, i’m exploding with adoration and ultimate affection towards everyone, per usual, but especially towards everyone who’s made my settling in that much easier. to sophia, my darling, and all of her friends (jenna, cris, jonathan, john, sophie, tara, kate) have all been such dears. soph carts me around in her silver four wheeled carriage, and i almost cry every time i see her. to my mama, who came with me and grounded me every time my brain flew me off too far away, and to everyone – especially my ex drama teacher – who sent a kind message after i updated my number. you’re all so important to me.

currently, i am in america. i don’t know. currently, i am in america and i don’t know.

(i think i’m okay with it.)

love and light,
shalom xo

 

 

monthly me | july ’17

bloody hell.

My life, I realize suddenly, is July. Childhood is June, and old age is August, but here it is, July, and my life, this year, is July inside of July.

– Rick Bass

July is over. I am 19, my room is mostly in three suitcases bulging at the seams, and I have a plane to catch in five days. July was my last full month in South Africa, and here we are at the end of it, as we would be at the end of any other month. July inside of July; here we go.

I’m taking out my twists as I’m writing this, so to say my hands are a bit full as an understatement. This July, I grappled. While I mostly grappled with grasping the reality of leaving a home (this only hit midway through my speech at my farewell), I spent the month under Kylie’s curse, constantly realising things.

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things like, you’ll turn 19. regardless. (birthday, 2017)

I grappled with having no internet at my house for most of the month for a reason I still haven’t been able to find out. This was…how you say…awful. Most of my life is working on the internet or not working on the internet, and having the common factor of the two removed entirely set me up for a month of laziness, and behind deadlines-ness, and all the other nesses that come with no internet.

I grappled with not being able to be the person I knew myself to be because of my brain. Oh man, that brain – she’s a handful. In short, I got very (read: did not move from bed for three days at one point), very depressed. I couldn’t get up because I didn’t take my meds because I couldn’t get up, and lemme tell you guys: that shit is awful. I had a hell night where I was more dangerously suicidal that I’d been in probably two or three years, but I got through that too with the help of some pals over the ocean and one lovely one here at home. I’m still here though.

This month I had a farewell party! It’s mad – before this past weekend, I’d only ever had one party at my house because contrary to popular belief, I don’t like parties a ton. However, the spirit of my farewell was just…so good. Just pure, concentrated good, and love and enough niceness to wipe the suicidal ideation of the week before, the stress of the few hours before the party, and the disappointment at the 30 people who said they’d come, but didn’t. It’s a funny thing. I was extremely sad when I realised that all the people who said they wanted to see me and “make plans” and RSVP’d in the definite just didn’t show up, and I wondered why they would bother with the pretence. Now, I’m not talking about those who were ill, or who were away — just people who decided not to come. I wanted to cry about it, and then I thought about them all and realised that I’d rather they didn’t come. I’m grateful for intentions being made plain, and Saturday was a whole buncha that. In the end, I got to have an evening where nobody I didn’t want to see was there, where I loved on everyone who loved me through the nightmares of high schools and universities past so hard, and where I played The 1975 all night because I could. It was good.

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tunes n vidz

coming in at number one, no surprise to anybody…

i got back into the 1975’s first record this month really hard. it conjures memories of 14 year old shalom lying on the floor listening to head.cars.bending and wondering about being lorde. a good time.

fall down, write another song about your friends

danger in our consequence

this song is just cute as hell. also kermit singing? sign me the heck UP

other loves

  • this post by maxine, because i noticed and i love her and i love it
  • two fanfictions that i will not link but am having the time of my LIFE reading
  • these:IMG_20170709_001628[1]

snippets of internal monologue

July is over. Whooooosh. South Africa time is mostly over. Crying whoooooosh. Thanks for being home, you all.

love and light,
shalom xo

preamble

Right. Hey dudes.

I’ll see you all in July’s monthly me, but I’ve been wanting to write a lil something before then. As usual, things got in the way and the nature of who I am as a person did not change. As such, this is maybe the first thing I’m writing in weeks. In a month? Maybe over a month.

My draft count is up to 43 and I haven’t stopped yelling, “come on brain, think of things” since I published heart out. Developments​: I’m 19 and it’s a whole new kind of ugly. Damn that anxiety center in my brain. Top of my wishlist is that all the big anxious makers in my head would take one hell of a holiday. Goodness.

I’m moving to the garden state in just over a week and it’s very ridiculous that we’re here already. Really, I just have to sing “Lost” from the Percy Jackson and the Lightening Thief musical for my sister once I get there. Packing is weird.

Oh​, yes. I’m also really bloody ill. I had a fever and I can’t find the Sinutab and dammit my head is in my shoes.

The internet at my house has been out for most of the month as well, but I don’t know if I would have gotten work done even if it was up.

Consider this a preamble to the mess that will be the July Monthly Me. I miss writing. I miss this corner. I miss being able to breathe out of both nostrils.

love & light,

shalom xo

// h e a r t o u t //

it’s just (3,752 of) you and i tonight; why don’t you figure my heart out?

physical heart: anatomically correct (i’d hope). doing fine, bit stressed out by the amount of pizza i’ve eaten in the last three weeks and the fact that i don’t do enough cardio at all.

metaphorical brain heart: fervently passionate about the renewal of vows that i’ve had with the 1975 – we are an even happier couple now and i can’t go a day without them, it appears. also wants to write about heart out.

i like heart out for more reasons than i thought i would. in my re-listen of their first album, i wtried to figure out why i like the 1975 at all. i tried to find my favourite songs off the album, i tried to see if i liked the song more if i liked the video, and i watched so many sets of live shows to see whether i still liked the song when it’s performed live.

i like heart out for all of these reasons and obviously because i’m a gratuitous oversharer, i’m going to put more of my heart out here. if that’s even possible. if you ever need to piece me back together, i share my innermost secrets and emotions with thousands of strangers on the internet – you’ll find me there. i’m a very private person, see. can’t just be telling people you know these things.

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well, first: i love heart out now, more than i did in 2012. maybe it’s because i’ve learned how to properly listen through matty’s manchester accent, or because i really enjoy the way the video was directed and understand it  now (thanks drama directing prac). i guess because i’m older there are people who i can sing this song to and have almost every word relate to them. i’m not 14 anymore, and there are people that i  found when we were both younger much younger; people that i liked no matter what i found out about them. and now…now i sit with them after three or five or ten years of knowing them, trying to know them. still.

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the second verse always makes me laugh – it’s so very high school. it’s girls twirling their hair far too much until it tangles while talking to boys, and seeing three people in your year actively trying to mirror a girl in the year above, and that small circle of rich kids with drug problems and too much money. a reflection on their mental health? certainly.

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while i’ve (thankfully) never been addicted to cocaine and heroin, or sex, i wonder what my rocks and brown would be. what’s something i was, or am, obsessed with that most adequately reflected my mental health? perhaps how addictive my personality is to begin with and that moderation isn’t a word i can get my brain and body to understand. maybe how much i liked skins when i was 13. (that was stupid. who lets a 13 year old  with a new depression diagnosis watch skins? the internet. that’s who.) maybe my knack for self destruction by bringing other people up and quashing my need for self care? i guess i’m figuring my heart out, and figuring out what my heroin is. it makes for interesting self to self conversation.

i’ve always been good at one thing though, and that’s a lotttttta feelings. yes ma’am, that’s me, center of the feelingsverse, feels HQ – “haver of every and any feeling” is my official title. how very cancerian of me. if you’ve been around here a while, or even if this is the first post you’ve finished, i’m almost certain you can tell. i still do live in my head a massive amount. i guess…i am the adolescent on the phone; speaking like i’m bigger than my body.

heartout1heartout2

my birthday is on tuesday and i’m trying not to be scared about it but all the trying is tiring. but i don’t want to be afraid. my impulse control is non existent. i really want to take my meds every day this week but a morning dose is hard if i only muster the strength to get out of bed after noon. my room is mostly clothes and i’m tired of going shopping for my move. i hate seeing attractive boys with kind eyes because i do stupid things like repeat myself to my friends 100 times. i’m still scared that everyone who’s ever said they like me don’t, and that i’m not actually a likeable person. i think that maybe my idea that i’m good is wrong, because am i? could i really be? i have worse posture than people think – i just stand up really straight in public because it’s part of the things that i do in public. i’m so bad with money.

there it is.

/ / H E A R T   O U T / /

love and light,
shalom xo

monthly me | june ’17

Alright. OKAY. We are in the seventh month of the year, I have a migraine, and I think I’m almost out of applesauce – this was June!

from the camera roll

 

june.

June was a weird one, I gotta say. I spent most of June falling desperately deep into a low that I’m yet to come out of, and the rest of it in bed trying to come out of it. I learned that I can squat 50 kg and that I hate spin classes, and I also dropped my phone in the toilet. Incredible. Incredible is a word I use most often these days, and I’ve found myself shortening it to “incred” – it freaks me out a tad and I don’t know why. June. Lots of “feels bad man” eating disorder mentality moments. Overly excited to see Matt’s new post! June? In June I went to Collision Conference which was full of really fancy lights and really good thoughts to go home with and also Rich Wilkerson, Jr – the guy who married Kim Kardashian and Kanye West? I didn’t know that about him. In any case, he’s rad af, and Collision was a soul stunner. I appreciated every second apart from the baptism of my phone.

This month also saw me being…uh…financially reckless, to say the least. My check (?) for the articles I wrote in May & June hasn’t been delivered and my savings account took a beating because ya girl was (read: is perpetuallybroke. Processing financial aid without a US address is…a mess, to say the least. I’m dealing with the fact that my birthday is no longer sneaking up on me but is instead ramming me in the face with anxiety, and that I’m leaving the country in a month, by reading copious amounts of Supernatural fanfiction. Unashamed. 4 weeks. Yikes.

June brought about pride and the one year anniversary of the Pulse Orlando shooting. My heart is heavy.

 

tunes + vidzzz

with my feelings on fire / guess i’m a bad liar
(heaven knows why i listened to this for two days straight)

This month has been re-falling in love withe the 1975 the same way i did in 2012 – oh BOY. i’ve listened to (long title) i like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it almost every day, and it’s not an album i’ve ever wanted to cherry pick off of. Initially, I loved The Sound and UGH! more than everything else on the record, but y’all, it is one hell of a record. I listen to it from track one to track 17 the whole way through, and while it’s long as hell, it’s uh…incred. I’ve also been listening to everything off of their first record again, and it’s funny how music feels same same but different after 5 years.

a Very Good piece of Art

i’m too busy to finish —

snippets of internal monologue

  • never. EVER. ever. touching whiskey again. NEVER.
  • if i can’t get out of bed because i didn’t take my meds because i can’t get out of bed, is the root of the problem more like a leaf? or a stem?
  • Shalom, exactly what do you think you’re taking to the US? What actually. What are you doing. WHAT ARE WE DOING
  • “maybe i’m just trying to distract myself from my mortality” – sounds about VERY RIGHT

July is happening and 19 is happening and I still have a migraine. I’m trying to do more. Write every day, go outside every day, take my meds every day, eat every day – I’m trying. This was a weak as hell outro.

love and light,
shalom xo