GIRL SPEAKS: tiger stripes

* trigger warning: self-harm*

for the past few weeks, ive been dreaming of relapse – of gliding the cold shiny tip of the blade along my skin, of a well deserved self-punishment for the attributes i lack and for the toxicity ive put forth.

im tired of making everyone around me miserable, of constantly shattering like a ticking emotional time bomb. im tired of forcing everyone to dance around me just to appease my fragile ego. im tired of being me, an unworthy, spiteful little bitch who cant appreciate the accomplishments of others because im so boggled down by the voice in my head.

and i hate myself for that – for not being stronger, for not making more money or having that financial stability, for not being a supportive girlfriend, for pushing everyone away, for being a complete monster to the one person whos supposed to matter most.

i did it last night, an impulse action on my end (and im so sorry, im not strong enough – im not enough, period).

i gave myself some more tiger stripes last night, running the x-acto blade in long horizontal lines, letting the beads of blood drip down onto the pink tile floors of our bathroom as i kept the door locked.

and it was my boyfriend who came to my rescue (why are you always saving me?), taking initiative to clean me up, bandaids to stop the bleeding. it was my boyfriend who had to wipe the blood off our bathroom floor because i was (am) too catatonic and broken to take care of myself.

so im sorry, for not being enough. i dont deserve him, especially with all the gentleness and care hes handled me with as i throw child-like tantrums, reuniting with my old coping mechanisms.

i deserve it – this self-punishment, this heaviness of being unworthy. and id be lying if i admit it wasnt satisfying, to turn the knife on myself because i keep hurting the ones i love the most.

i fucking deserve it – these red gashes on my upper thigh, the tiger stripes formed in moments of weakness.

im never going to amount to anything, and i just dont understand what the point is anymore of my aimless little life.

im just a moody little nobody, and i dont deserve the kindness or the love or the sympathy.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: shamelessly crying in red balenciagas (in public)

“lets leave no words unspoken.”

at this point, ive tried everything to accept my boyfriend will be making twice what i make, as hell be transitioning into his new job tomorrow. ive tried running away from home so i can blast music and go on my clarity drives, ive tried the plain-and-simple method of “just talking it out.” ive acted out like a child, ive ranted to my circle of support.

nothing is working. its a travesty, really – with congratulations flying all around him from our friends, family, the only person left bitter is me and maybe i just resent him for that.

i had expected to grow together, but that doesnt seem to be the case either way because one job change. and theres a sudden looming air of superiority (at least how i picture it; so far no one else feels this way) and i dont even know what to say to him anymore, about anything.

its ridiculous maybe, wanting to break up with someone because theyre suddenly making more money than you, that you no longer feel satisfied because this isnt what you pictured for yourself.

today my boyfriend took me to our nearby shopping plaza (mostly for errands but also ended up staying for lunch). he feels the resentment from me and i tell him im trying, i just cant be happy and maybe im just a selfish bitch for not being satisfied with anything in my life lately.

i called it “our last supper” – not because were ending, but i get this gut feeling that everything is about to change, the second his hourly worth is higher than mine, when he subconsciously transitions into the finance fuckboy we all know and love to hate.

i dont want him to be like his dad, controlling his mom to the point where she barely speaks. i dont want to be like my aunt, whos hid in the garage from her husband – a doctor, even – because she was fucking terrified and money equals power.

im convinced hes going to change (with the money and the power), and i dont want him to change.

“our last supper” – the only bit of normalcy that i have left to cling onto, our last time between us where we are equals.

no words left unspoken – because i told him this after two valiums and two glasses of champagne, sobbing in my red balenciaga sunglasses in the french restaurant at the farmers market portion.

“and save regrets for the broken.”

and i keep wondering if ill regret it, if i just moved out today, cut ties and ran away indefinitely this time. if ill regret not letting him in, for all the resentment i hold for him, for the self-pity i shower myself in.

its getting harder and harder for him to love because im a difficult bitch. and i know im hurting him, being vengeful even by building my wall up all because of a stupid fucking job and some more money on his part.

so heres what ill do, in the words of a day to remembers “all i want”; “to keep your hopes up high and your head down low.”

of course, emo music is the mood – throwback to the 2010s era, a day to remember, bring me the horizon, and pierce the veil on a loop.

im not doing too well lately – and it shows. and if you didnt know that im drowning (both in the literal sense, but also figurative as i drown my emotions out with pills), the music playlist as of late should show you all.

so ill continue listening to my emo playlists, cry in public from the distress and pain of just simply existing, try to play nice with my boyfriend who has done nothing except try to better himself.

maybe i can try the same, to better myself so i have other things to think about besides the fact hes better than me. just not today, crying has completely obliterated my energy.

GFY, fleur (in the red balenciagas)

GIRL SPEAKS: “riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a bitch”

as a kid, i felt like my life was defined by competition – who was smarter, more talented, who was prettier, skinnier than me. at times, i still find myself defensive because my childhood was painted with so much inferiority and it felt like i always had the short end of the stick.

if i dont stick up for myself, who the fuck will?

no one in this life is perfect and maybe thats just that – its life itself; messy, unpredictable, and so completely fucking out of control.

we search for truth, for answers, and as much as we deny it, the unknown scares the shit out of us. so honestly, whats the point of it all?

whats the point in being a good person, in wearing your heart on your sleeve, if life continues to kick you in the ass no matter how much effort you put forth?

whats the point in putting forth kindness and positivity when karma turns a blind eye to the injustice and those whove wronged you just get away, scott-free? the wrongs are never made right and people are riddled with lies and empty promises; the only guarantee is the inescapable disappointment in the universe as a whole.

i dont need anyone coming to my rescue. i believe im fully capable of taking care of my own shit – ill fight my battles alone, simmer alone in my hatred for all those whove wronged me.

i dont need anything from anyone, and i dont owe anyone a single fucking thing.

but i feel like the world owes me; for all thats taken and lost, for the lack of signs or direction, for putting my soul in this body and this brain, for forcing me to deal with shitty people who still live in my mind rentfree.

nothing lasts forever – not you, not me, not this shitty ass universe that is on a mission to welcome us all to the dark side.

maybe none of it – nothing – even matters (everything and everyones temporary anyway). my default is just angst and recklessness, the inability to forget and forgive and the inability to let go.

if this were a competition, id be taking the prize for angry, bitter bitch. years of pent up resentment – thats what i hold.

i hate my ex-best friend who ive known since we were in preschool, who was always trying to one up me as we rounded the corner into high school, the type a kind of asshole whod push me to tell her my test scores even though she knew i had failed.

i hate the first boy who decimated my faith and trust in humanity (its been almost a decade and i still dream of the day he gets run over by a bus).

i hate my ex-dogsitter (“friend”), who would always remind me how much skinnier she was compared to me and wouldnt shut the fuck up about how “tiny” she was. she knew i struggled with body image, but she just had to push me to my breaking point in which ive opted to skip meals for the spirit of competition. if only she could see me now, the drastic weight loss – i just survive, barely eating unless stoned and feeding off pills for sustenance (and sanity).

i guess i always feel like i have something i need to prove to show that im worthy. im tired of trying, to vouch for myself and show im capable.

ive made my peace with letting people go – its not so difficult when you dont really let them in to begin with. letting go of the situations and learning to forgive – now thats out of the question (even if it destroys me from the inside).

in the end of the day, maybe im just “a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a bitch.”

and im okay with that. being a “good person” has never lead to anything but hurt and betrayal anyway.

nothing lasts forever, and there is no point in supporting and tiptoeing around people who dont have a place in your life when there was never a silver lining to begin with.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: selective mutism

i can pin point when it all started, when i just stopped talking, opting to bottle every emotion i had and letting the heaviness (the burden of carrying this weight) rot me from the insides. it was memorial day weekend of 2019, my return home after graduating from college and learning to navigate (or at least trying to) a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend after living with him for months.

i hate change. maybe thats obvious at this point. too much change, and i crack completely (orchid children or whatever they call it, the fragile ones prone to breaking).

i hated living in houston for pretty much the entire time that i was there for college, retreating back to my hometown the second i finished my last in-person final, spirit flights purchased on impulse out of the need to be home.

you changed that. my last year in houston was by far my favorite, and its all thanks to you. i owe you for that, for making the best year of my houston/college experience, for being part of my story; i cherish those days when things between us were just easy, light and i just really fucking loved you.

i was happy. maybe the happiest id ever been.

i dont even know if im capable of that happiness anymore.

and on my final year, i found myself struggling to let go of that dirty, old houston apartment, even though the apartment has smelled like cat piss since we moved in and no amount of baking soda or professional cleaners and products had been able to successfully eliminate the atrocious scent. but that apartments important, monumental; because thats where we began, thats where our story started.

sometimes i wonder if those days are gone for good, that our lives together will ever feel as pivotal as it was back then and all i needed was you. and i wonder if we hold on to these memories too tightly, and were just lying to ourselves to try to make “us” work.

what changed between us? did we already reach our peak, and all thats destined is the inevitable fall?

i need clarity, so fucking badly (ive even reached out to my psychic, since all her predictions have come to pass and the universe refuses to offer me a sign).

and i cant stop thinking about when things went south with us, why i cant stop snapping at you lately, what happened between us to make conversations more scarce to the point of just pure silence. i cant stop being a bitch to you and i know im going to push you away, and maybe i already have.

i miss “us,” the old “us,” and i mourn that loss everyday as i continue to give you the silent treatment, plotting my escape to my parents house just for the sake of running away.

im shutting you out – i know i am. i just cant help it, imagining the worst case scenarios, that youll leave me because i dont think i make you happy.

maybe theres still a part of me that resents you for putting me through a long-distance relationship in the first place (through no fault of your own). youre here now; physically, i guess i am too but mentally, ive been checked out, engulfed in my own world, consuming thoughts.

you werent there when i needed you the most and maybe theres a part of me thats unable to forgive you for that. you werent there that night my 16 year-old maltese passed away, when i received that frenzied phone call from my parents while out to dinner with our friends. they said he wasnt able to hold his head up, and doesnt seem to be lucid, that were losing him.

you werent there when my mom told me my nanny/my third grandmother died due to surgery complications when i was in my last semester of college. my parents never fucking told me when it happened. conveniently my mom had to tell me this immediately after my dogs passing (great timing, mother).

it signaled an end of an era – the end of college, the end of childhood itself with the combined losses of my dog and my nanny, someone i had gone to visit each time i returned. the last time i saw her, i had a breakdown. maybe even then, i knew i would never see her again.

too much change, too many endings – so i stopped talking. i shut the world off, closing the blinds and surrounding myself with my thoughts. i kept (keep) everyone at a distance, and the shift was palpable.

these days it seems like anger is my primary reaction to everything, and i cant seem to find a balance in any aspect of my life; not with my boyfriend, not with my friends, not within myself.

“im gonna tell you how it is, dont give a shit about how you feel.”

im trying to find my voice again, to have the ownership and power of my own words. i need to be in control of my life again.

“look me right inside my eyes and you tell me the truth.”

what exactly do you even see anymore?

emptiness and sadness built on resentment, selective mutism, and the refusal to forgive, but maybe a slight glimmer of hope (the light at the end of the tunnel). thats what youll see.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: (S)ugar (H)oney (I)ce (T)ea

id like to think im self-sufficient, despite reckless shopping on stupid expensive shit while on klonopin and the occasional treat for myself (maybe more often than most). think $100 supreme t-shirts and mini mini jacquemus joke bags that cant even fit my keys.

i make enough to support myself even though my credit card bills through the roof right now, but if i just learned how to reign in the excessive shopping i think id be able to be in a “better financial place.”

maybe the shopping has truly become an addiction, just something to fill the void in my heart because my life always feels like theres a missing chunk. the idea of a package arriving and having something to look forward to, the ownership aspect of possessing pretty things to display and show off becomes your means of moving forward, deal with the pain in the ass we call life. sometimes its hard planning for a future when you dont really have a direction.

its all so superficial, but i need it (for my wellbeing). maybe in a world thats painted by material objects and possessions, im just the byproduct of a consumer-driven, hierarchy-obsessed society.

so really, who can truly blame me?

everyone is always looking for “more.” and enough never really feels like “enough.”

theres so much pride in appearance, the vanity of it all – in clothes, designer accessories; in having your eyebrows threaded, the arched shape i like maintained; in perfectly manicured nails that scream, “im fucking put together” (my version of self-care, in its purest form).

and theres pride in my career – being validated for doing a good job from my higher ups, recognition showcased with a recent raise and five additional vacation days per year after my latest performance review. being able to support myself, the freedom to afford the things i want (kind of).

at least there was pride in my career.

im not sure why everything in my life has to translate to a competition – who holds the better stories with the biggest “wow” factor, whos the skinniest or the prettiest, whos more successful with the most income, making the most of the time theyre given.

and i know im supposed to be happy for my boyfriend and his new sparkling job offer. hes been struggling for years and ive tried (from the depth of my core) to be supportive. he had clawed his way out of university, fought his way through a severely underpaid job with barely any benefits and no overtime pay. and finally, he found a job that suddenly would pay him double the amount im paid (including my raise). six-digit salary, and im completely fucking shook.

makes one feel inferior, no?

i want to be happy for him, but its so fucking difficult to be, knowing this tremendous change would make him somehow superior to me. i dont want him to think less of me and id rather be the one to leave than be the one left.

“i think were too close for comfort / so dont rock the boat, dont calm the storm.”

all i ever wanted in a relationship was to be equals. and we had that – similar in pay, similar and shared sensitivity amongst our inner circle. the shared anxiety of wanting to be better and im doubtful he can relate now since he got his fucking wish, of making six figures – that because of that, i feel less than than him, and im no longer comfortable with him.

were not equals anymore. and growing up in a world painted by competition, i cant stop comparing myself to others, not even someone whos supposed to be my “partner” or whatever.

were not equals anymore – the scale has tipped (in his favor), the balance fucked and offset, and i lose once again.

the equilibrium is off as is (even though he starts his new job in two weeks). id rather be alone than be with someone who looks down on me.

and i dont know what this holds for me, what it means for us, and where i stand in this relationship. my bets are that everything between us is doomed to fail (but maybe its my inner pessimist speaking).

so just leave a message after the tone.

GFY, fleur

GIRL SPEAKS: mememe (do i sound like a joke when im talking to you?)

i hate forced positivity. its so toxic and fake, plastering on a smile for the sake of someone elses wellbeing even though your silent wounds ache.

its always about everyone else, isnt it? everyone else – anyone else but me. each day since entering 27, i just seem to get more transparent. ill eventually become one with the background, vanishing into nothing. im trapped in a soundproof glass box thats my life, and i need an escape.

phantom pain – going unspoken about, untended to. were all hurting and no one gives a damn (especially if they dont know).

theres a part of me that stays silent because i dont believe that others deserve to know what im thinking at the core, how i feel about them, whether theyve done something to bother me to the point of these happenings living rentfree.

if i said all the things i want to say, id probably be left by everyone (and maybe its time to make my peace with that).

words bite – both mine and theirs. and “forgiveness” isnt an emotional attribute that im capable of, foreign to my vocabulary completely. if i dont forget, i cannot forgive.

but silence and unknowing – that might be worse to receive versus a confrontation. forever a guessing game, and whether one rude comment would push me over the edge and the silence that follows, thats up to their own interpretation.

so ill leave apology texts unread, issues unresolved for weeks while i simmer in my anger, boiling into hatred. silent pain on both parties, but at least im in control.

theres another part of me that holds everything in my heart because i truly believe they wouldnt give a fuck, that no one gives a rats ass about me and my fragile emotions.

ive befriended my pain, my misery. its a part of me, my secret to hold, my comfort to keep. ive learned to rely on it (the misery, and no one else). maybe once youve had enough practice – years, even – of playing the role of “ok,” you become the expert of hiding behind that mask.

i guess its such an easy game.

theres a weight, a heaviness that i cant get rid of because my mind keeps whispering to me that no one cares.

mememe – i cant help but wanting to make more conversations revolve around me. and i expect everyone around me to be psychic, dancing around my expectations and creating a me-centric world.

i thrive off attention.

the third part of me knows i have a delayed reaction to anger (and most other emotions) and i cant tell if my anger and dissatisfaction is justified or all in my head.

i dont really know me (in that case). whats real, whats fake – it all blends together and love immediately transforms into hate and sometimes back again, an endless cycle depending on how much they hear me.

maybe no one really knew me to begin with.

maybe youll never know anything about me.

GFY, fleur

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: 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