GIRL SPEAKS: 7 years later

i remember when i had first spoken to you – september 18, 2010; a date thats been engrained in my memory, the password to my iphone for all thats worth.

i was 19 when you died (it still feels so strange saying that you had died – even more bizarre that its been over 7 years since then and the words still sting). when i first learned that you had passed away, it was like a sucker punch to the gut.

you were one of the strongest people i knew, and i envied you for your confidence, boldness throughout our friendship.

when did the world dull that inner radiance you wore so well?

im sorry i never tried harder to keep in touch. im still shitty at keeping in touch (too many thoughts for my little brain to process).

i still think about you. a few days ago when i was back in my parents house, back in my childhood bedroom, i went through my sophomore yearbook.

your message was the first one i saw – i mean, it was inevitable since you wrote on the cover, your note scribbled in purple sharpie, mostly written in german with a hint to use google translate. i never translated your message and maybe that was a good thing. maybe knowing what you had actually said would make it lose its magic, the mystery of it all.

in english, you had written that you love and will miss me (you were going to boarding school the following year).

im sorry i never told you how much you mean to me. its always been second nature to pretend i care less than i genuinely did (i guess i still do this – a defense mechanism and all?).

im sorry, for not telling you that i give a shit about you, that you matter. the “i love yous” mean nothing if youre not in this orbit anymore.

if i say it now, could you hear me?

and i wonder what youd think of me today, if youre currently looking down on me from wherever you are in the afterlife.

are you disappointed, are you proud?

this is my first time writing about (to) you in years. to be fair, i had a writing hiatus as i found more comfort in drugs, intoxication and recklessness to drown out the sorrows, the guilt and the regret.

i wonder if you know about all the external chaos in my life (and the internal chaos that i hold privately).

i never wanted to be, the person you see,

but thank you.

thank you for giving me the voice i needed to find so badly when i met you at 15, the boldness i held because of you (up until my 2019 breakdown). im trying to find it again.

can you help me?

i still think about you, even seven years later.

GFY, fleur


when i started this blog, i had imagined something a bit more curated. then i realized i dont have the mental capacity to tell the stories i wanted to tell. im not in a place where i can tell my stories and give them the voice and meaning they deserve.

nowadays (when i actually have the brain capacity to form cohesive thoughts), this has become my personal, disorganized stream-of-consciousness hot mess that i pass along as a “blog”, just a page of my bullshit rants and endless complaints. its just me, venting to an empty room – no one is watching, no one cares.

for years, i was obsessed with courtney love’s band hole (and yes, til this day i still think she is an ICON) – music to love to, hate to, cry to, laugh to, dream to. courtney hits differently when youre dealing with shit.

“someday you will ache like i ache” –

does anyone else think happiness is temporary? like an fleeting illusion thats never destined to last long. its like when my best friend asks me about whether she should end her upcoming book on a happy or sad poem, and my gut instinct says sad. because not everything has a happy ending.

and the worst part about feeling that happiness never lasts? i have everything. i literally have NOT A FUCKING THING to be complaining about because my life is good? so what the FUCK am i aching for?

and im ashamed. and im guilty, for not appreciating all that i have (not to sound cliche as fuck).

saturday nights are best spent having breakdowns and hiding in the closet to text my twin and choking on my tears because no one else ever seems to understand. and even when im not publicly breaking down, its all overthinking, spiraling with all the chaos thats in my head.

“i want to be the girl with the most cake” –

and i am the girl with the most cake. in the back of my mind, a voice always whispered that one day, when i was the girl with the most cake, i would be happy and happiness would no longer feel like walking on eggshells.

i have a boyfriend with kind eyes (and kind soul), i live in a gorgeous home with four of the closest friends i have and i basically consider family. ive always struggled with being alone and now im never alone; that should have been the cure-all to everything. i have a job that i dont hate (to clarify i dont hate the job, but i may hate a coworker lol), and i have parents that give a shit about me.

and for the record, this was never supposed to be a humble brag. this is just me pointing out that im an ungrateful bitch thats struggling with having consistent happiness or content.

maybe happiness is overrated, were all aching and burnt the fuck out, and life is just a miserable experience we have to learn to just fucking deal with. best not to deal with that alone, although im still struggling to comprehend what is even wrong in the first place.

and now i sit in my bed, writing a post that no one will read but myself, ignoring my boyfriend calling me for dinner because im a petty bitch and quite honestly, a pain in the ass to deal with. i guess ill wait here, playing a one-sided hide-and-seek game and seeing if anyone gives enough fucks about me to come find me.

“i fake it so real, i am beyond fake” –

GFY, fleur