GIRL WITH BLOG: an introduction (take 2)

*** TRIGGER WARNING: self-harm, ed, substances ***

if i missed any, LMK

ok, so here’s take two on introducing myself. clearly i don’t know how to do this *blogging thing* without the angst and the self-pity. trust me, i’m trying. the last time i did this was on tumblr (circa 2011-2014) under the names featherlightobsession and porcelain-dollfaces where my life revolved around wanting to lose weight and punishing myself for binging and being a “fat, ugly failure” by marking my wrists and legs with thin, red tiger stripes.

later on, i primarily wrote at the airport high off edibles when thoughts were too loud to ignore, urgency resulting in chicken scratch, sloppily scribbled in sharpie on the glossy magazine pages. i had lamented over lack of love, both for myself and others for me. it was like tumblr but only private.

my tumblr wasn’t all negative though. before featherlightobsession was shut down, i actually prided myself in creating that safe space i had always desired. i put my suffering on display, confessions and all, and the community responded.

i gave people advice (i probably wasn’t remotely qualified at 16/17, but who’s judging?) and let people rant anonymously about their deepest, darkest secrets. i talked people i followed out of suicide. thinking back, that might have been the only time in my life i’ve ever felt like i had a purpose.

a lot has changed since then — i’ve since clawed my way out of college with my glittering new degree, started dating my best friend/roommate, maintained a solid group of friends, and stopped hating myself for my shortcomings (kind of).

i’ve tripped off pulque in mexico city while getting served free tequila shots, courtesy of the stranger stuck in a k-hole at the club. i’ve dressed up in pink bob wigs with a friend after guiltlessly catfishing a guy on tinder to observe him getting stood up by “morgy” at yogurtland — “morgy” was there, he just didn’t realize. i’ve befriended my erratic, drug-dealing neighbor, essentially taking the role as his sidekick (no, i didn’t deal but i was just always there for some reason or another) until i decided i don’t wanna do this anymore.

i have stories now (and none of them revolve around dieting or self-harm, although a few do contain some negative energies and unfavorable characters). maybe i’m just looking for some validation, that i have a little more to offer than what i’ve given myself credit for. maybe i’m just scared of forgetting the past, one that i’ve been both proud of and ashamed of, and penning the memories down might be the only way to ensure that the stories are worthy of being remembered (even if i’m the only person who ever looks at this page).

it’d be an overstatement to say that i’m happy. but i’d say that comparatively, i’m ok these days — just ok, but that’s the best i could ask for.

in a society ridden with injustice and unrest and death at the moment, i’m just trying to work with what i have and not drown in the anxiety of it all.

Who’s even truly happy these days?

GFY, fleur

GIRL WITH BLOG: an introduction

i don’t know why i’m doing this. call it my quarter-life crisis, an episode of identity confusion — whatever. all that truly matters is that i’m here, getting off my lazy, unmotivated ass and doing something for once. i’m not good at these intro posts because i never know what to say.

then again, i’m a nobody. if a tree fell in a forest and no one was there to bear witness, would it make a sound? if a nobody speaks, would anyone even listen?

for the time being, you don’t need to know my real name but you can call me fleur. i’m 25, LA born and raised, a little bitter and a lot of angry for reasons unknown, and kind of a living contradiction.

i’m a little narcissistic but still insecure; stubborn but also sometimes a pushover; trustworthy but a little bit of a liar; reckless and spontaneous but a creature of habit. i’m the gray area and how the emotions range depends on the day, time of day, the person, my opinion regarding said person. it’s all in the environmental details really, the fine-tooth-comb type of specifics that matter.

they say to not let my environment control me, but that’s always easier said than done. so here’s to finding a safe space (or rather, creating my own) — a place where the bottled emotions can freely explode, a place where i can learn not to take things too personally, a place to escape to not feel alone. or maybe being a highly sensitive and emotional human being is just who i am, always an orchid child at heart, unable to deal with rejection or stress for fear any challenge might obliterate me completely.

welcome to the pity party of a confused, aimless nobody. if anything, i hope this helps me find my voice again (and maybe my mind too). maybe this could help someone out there realize they’re not alone in feeling the emotional rollercoaster as i do.

misery loves company.

GFY, fleur