Posts by girlwithlandline

queen of the trash pandas, lazy 25 year old whod rather paint her face with glitter and get blackout or write about her life (that no one particularly cares about)

GIRL SPEAKS: not your backup plan (but you may be mine)

at 7, i had no idea what a backup plan was, the whole meaning behind the concept, the insecurity nonexistent to my tiny little world – the innocence of it all. at 17, i made due with being the backup plan, filled with angst and self-loathing and bullshit – complacent and desperate for attention, and never truly happy, never truly worthy.

at 17, i hated myself. i hated my world, friendships so fake i couldnt even lie to myself about how much the core of these people irritated me – these people i once thought so highly about, put on a pedestal. boring, bland, basic – and i wanted so badly to be like them at one point in my life (no fucking idea why, maybe i just enjoy torturing myself) as much as they represent and illustrate everything ive learned to hate.

and like that, the main group (the one i had desired to be a part of for so long) got downgraded as i surrendered those deadend friendships in exchange for a smaller circle (only two from high school remain in my current orbit).

im 27 now (as of this week actually; cheers to the virgo/leo cusps). im 27 and i have not an earthly idea what im doing with my life. the curse of 27 is hitting at full force and all i can do is let myself spiral, silent sobs that go unheard because i dont exist.

if i tell that to myself enough times, will i disappear? (i dont exist, i dont exist, i dont exist).

maybe its all in my head, the assumption that everyone can treat me as temporary, tossed aside like trash and left to rot, forgotten. or maybe everyone has a personal hierarchy, a ranking of which friends they value most and im embodying the second-class citizen energy and bringing it to fruition.

there are so many happenings that take place in a decade.

people leave, people come back. ive made my peace with that. people are temporary – they dont matter and neither do i.

and at age 27, i realize i no longer have a backup plan (not with my friendships, not with my relationship), it just feels like im running out of friends.

i still remember the days where people in my life resided in different categories – there are “the primaries,” the friends you actually want (care) to be associated with, the ones with the privilege of priority. then there are “the secondaries” – they serve a purpose, reeking of desperation and approval, those ive bailed on once “the primaries” come calling.

if i call myself a second-class citizen in my own life, id be the first to admit to having a hierarchy, an order of who matters more.

and it amazes me, that five years ago, i was creating my own definition of chaos and reckless behavior but i always had a backup plan so id never be alone. guys queued up, ranked by how much i liked them – security blanket in the advent of rejection, but then again i always loved moping in private (my pity party), bottled up feelings and loud thoughts.

at 27, i think ive lost faith in the world – in my world – and i wonder if the nagging loneliness will ever leave for good.

i wonder whether its time to find some more unsuspecting, lonely-hearted people (temporary friends, so reminiscent of my past) to become victims to my backup plan, lining them up like plushies on an assembly belt, neatly packaging them away in boxes with gift wrap, only to be opened when needed, “secondary” friends like some fucked up consolation prize for all thats loved and lost.

“i told myself im tired of holding up your backup plans.”

this time, ill return as the one in control, curating my backup plans in case my current world fails to work out according to my plan.

maybe emotional attachment isnt for me, and if i need to let go of my life as it stands, ill need to be ready.

id rather be an asshole who plays with heartstrings than be alone.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: dark blue

does anyone else ever feel like a second class citizen in their own universe? as if those you chose to be your friends are always superior to you and you just exist in their realm for the sake of it.

ive always been the girl with a consistent friend group and a girl i call my twin that i met on tumblr who lives across the country; but ive also been the girl with the occasional new (and inconsistent) “best friend” popping into the picture, usually someone i just met and barely know but the we-must-must-must-hang-out somehow leads to something that vaguely resembles a friendship.

the foundations of these friendships (these temporary best friends) are built on loneliness and convenience. they usually end when i realize that i never intended for them to be my best friend in the first place, that i dont want to be like them or i just completely fucking hate their personality (after all, i already have a best friend, my twin).

these friendships, they never end well.

as for these unfortunate souls that sit in the “non-permanent” category, its usually infatuation on their part. the only reason id know that is because i know myself (and they dont know me) – i refuse to reach out, initiate or anything. at the same time i wouldnt say im shy; i guess some of us are just built more fragile (like porcelain dolls) and we just cant handle rejection, too arrogant to come off as desperate.

i keep these miserable people around even though i know are temporary (and that ill eventually reach a breaking point with them) all to soothe my injured ego, to make me feel superior in having a minion.

maybe im power hungry (or maybe im just a bitch).

maybe i dont get enough of that in my current friendships – the power-trip of having someone willing to bend backwards to please you, someone you can look down on and keep to make yourself feel better. the temporary friendships are never real, doomed to fail from the start.

its fucked up. im fucked up.

in the words of jacks mannequin, “have you ever been alone in a crowded room?”

its like everyones in on an inside joke that you just dont get, like i dont belong here (not in this friend group and not on this planet) and im just here for the convenience. and i think about whether theres too much history and mutual friends and acquaintances to just cut me out completely, as if im not worthy. i just exist among them, neither here nor there, a side character even in my own movie. existing but not participating, invisibility cloak and all with the “mute” button constantly on.

im ok – im always just ok.

“what could you possibly expect under this condition?”

at least when im here with you, the whole town feels less lonely, the water subsiding and im able to breathe; the chirps of my friends, conversations im not a part of, fading into the background and none of it fucking matters anyways.

“if youve ever been alone, youll know.”

and you do know – you know me better than i know myself and id be so completely lost without you. youve felt the same way in our universe, unheard and unseen.

so you know – and you see me, thats all that should matter.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: blurry vision, blurry life

sometimes i wonder if im a real person still, or if ive just spent too long blindly complying to everyones wishes with no free will of my own.

what is free will at this point?

passive – its a word i simultaneously embody and despise. and i let the days fly by as if they dont matter; as if i dont matter.

i see people (shadows) of the past, their lives moving forward as if everyday had been filled with intent and these cliche life milestones while mine just lingers, my mind rarely ever present. my life just is.

and i feel translucent as the days continue to lose their opacity, fading away into the abysmal non-world. i cant tell whether the events of last week happened months ago or years ago; time is bleeding together into a whirlwind of “what if’s” and the immense unknowns.

blurry vision and even blurrier memories. how can i know what i want if i cant even remember yesterday (the basic events and conversations and all)?

and i listen to the old playlists, trying to recreate a past forgotten, to help regenerate the person i once was – someone with adventures to call her own, with stories to tell instead of bitch rants; someone with a bit of darkness, bittersweet humor, and glitter woven in between the seams of it all (this could still apply to me today).

once, i was someone who wasnt afraid.

maybe im still unafraid, ive just been too zonked out to react or too fucked up to remember. then again this weekend, i did kick the door shut aggressively and yelled at my neighbor to “go fuck yourself, you stupid bitch.”

hindsight is 20/20. however, i have no regrets (no shame) in telling her to shut the fuck up. at least theres still some fight (somewhere) in me. unhinged, out-of-control; maybe i just miss the chaos of my previous life. i crave the disorderly.

i need a sign (for clarity, of course) – whether it be a shooting star, or a message in a bottle concealed by sand and weathered by the waves, a treasure map guiding me in the “right direction” (whatever the fuck that means).

a sign – something that happens (and this could all be chalked up to a timely coincidence maybe); a text at the right time, a song that randomly plays on shuffle that has the truth written between the lyrics, the meaning youve been looking for this whole time, but its something that strikes precisely when you need it the most.

i look for truth – answers – in every surrounding im placed in. in traffic, i look for signs in the billboards for concealed, subliminal messages, observe the cars that speed past me; their colors, their bumper stickers, their license plates as if they contain some cryptic code. i surround myself with my comfort shows, as they always seem to offer sound advice like the universe had summoned it (or maybe i just know what episodes hit at the right time).

and i look for answers in music – i want to feel. to absorb the sadness and the pain certain tracks evoke, the lightness in others that allows me to time travel, rewind, to brighter days.

theres a hopefulness that resides in youngboy’s “astronaut kid,” the same hope that lies with vampire weekends “step” and kacey musgraves “rainbow.”

i hope those songs never lose their magic, the personal application, the infatuation behind the song itself. my thoughts might contain a few black voids, the details fuzzy but at least the music will always be there.

today i want to reclaim myself – my identity, my independence, my chaos and disorderly. i dont know how, or even where to start but maybe the universe will give me a sign (because i sure as hell need it right now).

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: my demons turned to angels (now theyre flirting with each other)

the loudest thoughts come out to play at night, demons crawling on all fours out of the shadows, the thoughts buzzing through my brain at rapid pace. beside me, my boyfriend breathes softly, his exhales tickling the thin hairs on my arm as i lie awake, tossing and turning with only the ceiling fan maintaining the steady, ambient noise.

silence is so fucking loud.

the ceiling fan is keeping me company tonight, quelling my inner monologue and i appreciate it for that. i wonder how many rotations the ceiling fan does in a minute. maybe counting the rotations will help me fall asleep.

i fill my life up with podcasts, music, anything to run away from my own thoughts. sometimes i wonder if the magic in the world will ever return or if its gone for good.

sometimes i wonder if the music, the shows, the art that i like even matter if no one else in my circle gives a shit about my wants and opinions. in a small posse of intense, judgmental personalities and varying interests, i wonder if anyone will listen – all i want is to be heard.

im learning to stand up for myself – i mean, ive always known how to fight back, but when it comes to my friend group, i feel like im always compromising.

im so FUCKING god damn tired of compromising.

im not that generous, and maybe were all selfish and unaware of our behavior, how some of us steamroll others more than desired (and it is never desired), how some of us are tonedeaf to those were supposed to genuinely give shits about, how some of us seem to believe their interests are more important.

i love my friends, but i question whether they love me.

maybe one day, ill fight through the pain of life, learn to be less sensitive to ignorant comments and negativity, be able to accept that people give a shit. maybe one day, ill find my way back to sanity.

maybe im just a small fish in a small pond, and thats all ill ever be.

“guess hell on earth needs company.”

hell on earth, for sure. at least the demons will always be there (for company, you know).

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: elmers glue is just a temporary fix

by default, having something automatically equates to the possibility of you losing that something.

sometimes i wonder if itd be easier to have nothing at all. i think about the clean slate, new identity all too often lately.

i wanted escape – clearly that didnt work out. sometimes i think im the cause of conflict, the catalyst or whatever. sometimes its hard not to think im the problem.

overly emotional, as my parents put it.

and as my boyfriend puts it, you snap at people all the time so (by default), you should be okay when people snap back at you.

i dont know why im like this, why i cant stop bitching, grand gestures and resentment over misunderstandings. im trying to drill into my thick skull that were all human, and we all snap when we reach our breaking point (at least thats how my therapist puts it; we all have emotions, and my emotions should be valid).

maybe my breaking point is more fragile, built differently, as if im constantly shattering for tiny happenings, and in the end, im just porcelain pieces precariously pasted back together with washable elmers glue (yes, the shit thats fun to smear on your hand and peel off in one whole layer).

sometimes i cant tell if i feel trapped; by my life as its entirety, the influences, the proximity. uncertainty – lost, empty with nowhere to escape to.

and maybe i just dont know how to love fully, without the charged emotions or toxicity involved.

i dont know how to just flip the off switch on my brain, and im working on it (i promise). its just empty promises anyway if no one believes you.

and thats something even elmers glue cant fix – rampant, explosive emotions, being on defense because the worlds always fucking raining on me, the problem and the agent or chaos and hostility.

its always raining on me – and the elmers glue is just going to wash away until all that remains is a pile of porcelain shards.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: better off mute (or dead, according to hammurabi)

if i cant be snippy, i may as well be a mute.

i wonder why people tolerate me, why they let me get away with shit they wouldnt let anyone else do – is it because they pity me for simply not knowing, naive (and intoxicated, for the most part), stumbling around aimlessly and blindly? is it because im cute?

i can think so highly of myself sometimes.

i put myself on a pedestal, holding true to my heart that i have priority on rights – and i deserve to have what i want. maybe its my only child syndrome outshining itself, making me feel like i always need to be the center of attention.

if we were still following the code of hammurabi, i probably would have been put to death a long time ago (or at least, my tongue cut out – i clearly welcome myself speaking out of turn, and ive been told i write letters that ruin egos and break hearts).

take what you can from this – to each their own.

maybe a bitch will always be a bitch. maybe im just a spoiled, self-serving narcissist that reeks of privilege.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: bitch is being a bitch

sometimes i wonder if i actively choose to make my life complicated or if im just complicated and i cant help it – its a part of me.

it seems like i cant stop aggravating people lately; whether intentional or not, i cant stop snipping at people, pulling away from the physical touch and acts of affection. maybe im too stubborn to admit that im not always right.

i guess you can call me a hypocrite – someone who constantly bitches, goes off for no reason in particular but cant handle being spoken to in a harsher tone of voice or yelled at (i retaliate or i crumble – fight or flight taking action).

i crumbled today.

my boyfriend takes the short end of the stick with my parents as a close second when it comes to my emotional outburts, my constant lashing out and fussiness, unwillingness to forgive and forget because i feel wronged (remember, im always the victim, at least in my eyes).

everyone keeps saying im too emotional.

what does it even mean to control your emotions?

i truly believe that im incapable of controlling my emotions (physically or emotionally) even with therapy, with benzos, with support and love.

sometimes i think my parents have started to love me less in the past few years because im a pain in the ass. even my boyfriend tells me that im wearing on him, with my constant chaos, explosive anger and uncompromising temperament. sometimes i feel like theyre obligated to love me, as if i were some chore on the list that needs to be dealt with.

my parents say their love is unconditional – but is it? theyll leave me one day and im terrified for that day.

and im scared my boyfriends going to get fed up and leave me, once he realizes im not worth the trouble – and i cant handle being alone. is it time to find other options in case he leaves me?

i dont think he can love me forever (people always leave).

when im mad, im fucking livid. and i want justice – for all the things wronged, things taken.

im toxic and i know it. i just cant help it.

i dont want to lose my relationship with my parents, but being scolded for having a voice, yelled at to “listen,” i cant handle it. i just left my parents home, still reeling, still angry despite all the shit theyre going through with my evil, deluded aunts (we can call them “thing 1” and “thing 2”; for what was supposed to be a relaxing staycation and an escape from my life as it is (i need to gain some clarity), it was a fucking disaster.

and im sorry to my parents, that i cant learn to shut the fuck up and i feel the need to interrupt because im tired of always listening, that theyre under a lot of stress unrelated to me but im selfish enough to just walk out anyway to prove that they can lose me if this trend continues.

and im sorry to my boyfriend, who i put down more than i want and i wear the passive aggression and use it against him. and when he snapped last weekend after bitch (me) was being a bitch, all i wanted was to escape to my parents home, a retreat to all thats familiar. i was so excited for this weekend.

but look how well that worked out? jokes on me.

and i wonder whether love can ever actually be unconditional, as i grind peoples gears and continually poke the bear to get some form of reaction.

i dont think anyone can love me unconditionally at this point. damaged goods and too many emotions and breakdowns – who wants trash?

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: national clase azul day

im starting to get the hang of this whole blogging thing again (i think). i guess you could say its like riding a bike and old habits die hard (flashback to my early 2010s tumblr era).

welcome to my stream-of-consciousness (its dark in here, im aware). maybe its good for me to put my thoughts out there, release them into the world and see what happens instead of locking my feelings in a bottle. i guess this is my way of cleansing myself of the things i could never say out loud.

whos even 100% honest these days?

when people ask how you are doing, you plaster on a fake smile and you reply, “im fine.” anything less leads to prying eyes and unwarranted questions.

im fine, im always fine. just fine.

i dont remember a lot of my last year or so, but i do know where i was a year ago from today. i was at silverlake reservoir, celebrating a friends birthday over zankou chicken and drinks. he had wanted clase azul, insisted (and disinvited a friend over the friend not getting him fancy, fancy tequila, a pettiness i know and appreciate).

he would have been 30 today.

i knew of him since my freshman year – scattered encounters here and there, as he was a few years older. he was always the person who had the drug connections – pick your poison, and hed probably know one or two people in your city who sell. the guy who took a line of molly (thinking it was adderall) when we were all coming down from it during my absurd month of rolling every single weekend; the guy id ask for a coke connect in houston; the guy who tried to get me to hook up with his friend (who was so desperately awkward then, but i consider him my friend now too).

i got to know him last summer, when he came to los angeles for my roommates birthday and didnt leave los angeles for the next six months. he stayed with us for the greater part of that summer (on and off), and id admit, it felt like he became our sixth roommate. and through it all he became my friend, over shopping on la brea, smearing on chunky clay face masks with me and my boyfriend, bonding over flum vapes (the group chat you started with us on instagram hasnt been active without you).

while we were no way as close to him as our roommates were, im so grateful we got to know a personal side to him this summer – endless pit of energy, networker, a bit egotistical (arent we all a bit of narcissists here?) but also entertaining, kind. he was a leo, and i feel like ive always gotten along with leos.

and there are these memories that i hold, bottled up, knowing he wont be here to make those moments happen, the action of bringing people together. ill never be invited to the 100 thieves mansion in venice again, to a party with a guest list that my name was actually on, watching “insecure” stoned out of my mind with him and my roommate on halloween night as lines of coke were being passed around. and ill never see that picture he had taken of us, the college reunion and the summer of revival after the long covid season.

he was the reason i gave people a chance, the people i automatically assumed id hate in college suddenly making their way into my life. so thank you – i never got to say thank you, for any of those memories.

and there are the things we were supposed to do – the double date we were going to go on with my boyfriend and my friend who you were attracted to, the weed swap meet with the entry fee.

he was just always around.

maybe thats the most unsettling thing about an unexpected, early death. you never know its your last time seeing them until theyre gone.

its the anxiety of not knowing – that this accident was going to happen, if theres an afterlife and if youre happy. i dont believe in a god (i guess id consider myself agnostic but lately i lost all belief in a higher power lately), but if theres a heaven, let me know by giving me a sign?

do you believe in signs?

im on the fence, but id like to. we all need some hope, id think.

a month ago when i was in las vegas (just a few days before my roommates birthday), i had found a ticket in my purse. it was for the rose bowl flee market (i think theyre every sunday, but my memorys not the most accurate), and i remember taking numerous photos of our three flum pens, laid out in a row on top of my purse, my legs in the backdrop as he drove me and my boyfriend to pasadena.

vapes and shopping and drugs – as it always will be (its the small things i choose to remember). clase azul and the text war that ensued.

whats the difference between a sign and just another stupid coincidence?

i cant be sure.

so happy 30th, and heres to a petition to make july 20th national clase azul day in your honor and name.

your presence is felt and we miss you.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: whats behind the loewe sunglasses?

one day, i hope to look back at my present self and laugh – for all the moments that could have been dealt with more grace, the moments that seemed like the world was gonna shatter because of one wrong word, an insensitive action inflicted upon me (the melodramatic victim, always).

i relish in my self pity, feeling miserable over nothing in particular. theres a part of me that is truly convinced that i love feeling sorry for myself and no one else can sympathize as much as i do (for myself). old habits die hard, especially on a past built on self-hatred, negative energies, always wanting more.

selfish, no?

i balance between thinking im the badass queenpin that controls this world (and this is where my narcissism peaks through), to feeling im a nobody, no voice, no worth (and this is the side of me dictated by my withering mental health).

when i talk to my therapist about my identity crisis, she says that maybe im already on the side of the greener grass, that ive grown so accustomed to my world where the vibrancy and brilliance, the novelty of it all, have dulled out into muted earth tones with shades of blue splotched in between.

maybe im so used to wearing my loewe sunglasses with blue tinted lens, the color is getting lost in translation. im not taking them off though – i refuse to take them off.

maybe i just cant stop being hard on myself and putting myself down for all of the things i dont know instead of celebrating the things i do know (pity parties for one are much easier than me recognizing my strengths).

maybe im not as lost as i feel – maybe i take things for granted.

maybe i need to lose what i have in order to appreciate it.

but for now, i take comfort in hiding behind my loewe sunglasses and i make peace with the blues, just so i can throw my own pity party.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: when the grass is greener on the other side

one of my most cherished (and brilliant) friends and i have endless conversation about what it means to be happy, how happiness or the feeling of “content” is even achieved in the first place, in a polarized world void of the colors that lie in between. we wonder if enough is ever really “enough,” chained in the prison of our own minds. the grass is always greener on the other side and we yearn to “do better” (whatever the fuck that means).

we jump from feeling “happy-go-lucky”, that lightness we want so badly to maintain, to feeling empty, sad because the worlds a disaster (and our lives feel like it too).

we chase the highs, mourn our lows, silence dispersed in between for all the times weve struggled too much to speak.

sometimes i think ive run out of things to say to the world. other times, i hold deep in my heart the things i wish to say, but then i remember that the things i want to say dont matter.

its all so pointless sometimes, isnt it? moments that are supposed to matter forgotten, while that offputting comment made at you – mocking – it live rentfree.

does everyone else view happiness as walking on eggshells? one wrong song, one unwarranted statement – everything id treated as fact, shattered by such minor happenings.

“dont let me drown.”

who am i supposed to be? where am i supposed to be?

is this my life? what the fuck am i supposed to do with it?

am i on the side of greener grass already?

maybe the green, green grass is suffocating me. maybe i cant read my hearts desire, handicapped by the coulda’s, woulda’s, shoulda’s.

GFY, fleur