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: 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: 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