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: 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

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: (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: 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 WITH COVID: quarantini

so i currently have covid. apparently, its the gift that keeps on giving, as ive graciously given covid to all my roommates (theyll thank me for the following months of immunity after this all passes).

covid – miserable? yes.

quarantine – lonely? yes.

reason why i got covid – worth it? yes.

ive (tried) to be the type of person who “doesnt shit where they eat,” my mind automatically painting neutral situations as either black or white, categorizing people as good or bad – defined boundaries, a fine line between two polar opposites (minding my own fucking business in hopes of you minding yours too).

but the happenings tell a different story.

“dont shit where you eat,” they say.

yet im the girl who hooked up with her roommate and best friend, all wrapped into one.

he said he wouldnt date me – and i said “ok.” he said to hook up with other guys, as if i should prove that im non-committal to him – and i said “ok.” vulnerability refuses to unravel, and feelings are left unspoken. and all i can say is, “ok” – for the fear of knowing, the fear of fear itself.

at some point, the walls come caving in, crumpling like paper mache; the line is blurred, and theres no escape from the undeniable reality – the chemistry being the most obvious, rejection a coping mechanism for the both of us. he said he wouldnt date me – well today, hes still my roommate but hes also officially been my boyfriend since then.

i guess with risk there comes reward (or vice versa?). i won the lottery with who i chose to be with. no awkward introductions, or act of approval from the friends whos opinions i value so much – they already know you and i do too (the perks of dating someone in your close-knit friend group).

so how my relationship started – i shat where i ate, and in return, i received a boyfriend, one whos reserved in his emotions at times, but shows his love in actions, checking on me to make sure im okay (because we all know i love attention).

and sometimes i wonder how we got to this place – a place of comfort, safety, and trust. i wonder where time has gone, as we continue to live in this streamline modern historic home with our two roommates (another couple), this place weve called home for almost two years. i wonder where time is going, what to expect as naturally, i always picture the worst case scenario.

and then i wonder if ive changed, if im still that self-sabotaging, manipulative bitch that the ghosts of my past claim i am (was?). i wonder if i just continue hurting person after person (why does everyone like playing the victim?), half-assed promises thrown out the window and words piercing like glass shards. i wonder whether the calm in you can balance the anger in me. i wonder if you deserve a category of “be better” that i cant offer.

and i wonder what life would be like if i were with someone who didnt let me blast “sincerely, kentrell” on drives together, the songs we skip when listening to the album by ourselves the same as one another, as if our brains communicate telepathically (“sad boy never happy again,” our little inside joke). i wonder what life would be like if i werent with someone as patient as ive needed, someone who makes me coffee each morning, someone who force feeds me gatorade as im slurring, plastered and shitfaced, to soothe my morning hangover (or hold my hair as i puke and holding my cup of ice cubes for me, if all else fails).

am i worthy? thats yet to be determined.

“dont shit where you eat,” i say.

i say that to my boyfriend whos ever-present eagerness to meet new people shines through as he started befriending his coworkers, seeing them on a more personal level i wasnt able to relate to.

i judged him even, for befriending his coworkers, looking down on them from my trash throne. maybe i was angry (jealous even) – to want something you dont have, to have people you can actually be honest with at work instead of pasting on a fake mask. maybe my competitive side always needs to be the center of attention, my ego tended to and nurtured.

work and personal life – two separate matters and two separate worlds, the overlap of the venn diagram blank for all the emotional, private aspects that shouldnt cross over into the professional realm.

it took one week – a business trip in vegas, a few days without the comfort of my roommates, boyfriend, home. one week – a slowly changing perspective, stories told over copious amounts of alcohol, a line thats losing its definition, fading gradually.

it took me almost three years to realize – i dont hate my coworkers. even the ones i thought i disliked, and im still trying to understand – their unspoken traumas, their loneliness in this large world and billions of souls.

it took me three years to realize that the people around me are more similar to me than i would have ever assumed on a surface-level. the self-described “geriatric man whos bedtime is 10 pm sharp” coworker (shes closer to my age by the way) recognizes the anxiety and the darkness too, and were both still learning how to deal with it.

and tales told over a bottle of “demon slayer” sake at the bougie japanese fusion restaurant we were treated out to, secrets unravel – psychic readings that have your future written out in stone, the edibles experience at some live action new york event with vanishing faces, people disappearing as the light strobes, (really trippy i hear), the golf tournament after popping some shrooms chocolate. not work appropriate conversation, id think, but those taboo talks speak deeper than the exterior “professional” shell we put on. its real.

so anyways, i guess that makes me the hypocrite, queen of mixing emotions into every situation, a chaotic worldwind. center of attention, self-declared queen of who belongs and who needs to get the fuck out – its all been needs, not wants, and sometimes were cornered in our mind, forced to pick a side before the whole story is revealed.

if theres any takeaway, i judge too soon. i expect the worst out of people most of all, as not all intentions are as pure as they may seem initially. im trying to not see everyone as evil.

but overall im grateful – to get to know my colleagues and work relationships for what they are, who they are on the other side, without the fake “happy colleague” mask or business casual attire – just some drinks, slots, and clubbing in a funny but fascinating “professional development” stance. worth it, even if i got covid as a result.

it would have been sad not to see that side – who we are underneath the mask.

“dont shit where you eat,” they say.

but sometimes honesty can come as a relief – youre not alone. and people see you for who you truly are, and maybe thats ok.

GFY, fleur

GIRL WITH BLOG: my intention was never for this to be depressing

is the glass half empty or half full?

glass half empty (10000%).

maybe i expect the worst of everything. i mean, the worlds a fucking shitshow. im a mess and i cant clean myself up. i cannot accept reality yet im angry at this world, the higher powers or whatever karmic universe that controls us like puppets from the beyond.

and this was never my intention: a repeat of my tumblr days, my continued qualms with life itself. this was supposed to be fun – about the memories i want to keep.

“i wanna paint down my memories, so i dont forget.”

and ive forgotten so much – scatterbrained, empty-minded and stumbling my way through. memories are all thats left and im ashamed and terrified of all that ive forgotten, moments that meant something but i was too black-out to recall.

“the darkness doesnt have any answers.”

and thats what it call comes down to – the vulnerability, the pain, the heaviness. looking for answers in the wrong places, my darkness.

the feeling that the world owes me for what its taken, whats lost. anger, geared at anyone who dares step into my war path. i hate. and i keep hating people, circumstances, the way life plays out. i hate the higher powers who clearly havent given a flying fuck, watching us scramble, tittering to each other as we suffer.

“what happened to us?”

in my world, its so fucking black and white. tiptoeing that fine line between love and hate, walking on thin ice thats crackling with every step. instability? clarity? who the fuck knows.

im taking my anger out on all the wrong people – but theres just so much to be livid about. and if there was a blinking red *SOS* button in my brain to turn it all off – the “stop using others as a human punching bag”, the guilt of brainfog and lack of memory, tragedy.

and in this world, are we just infatuated by the idea of love or is it remotely possible to be in love (if we dare admit it)? is it real love? or love due to convenience?

why is it so hard for me to admit love or show that i care?

i dont know. i guess im still trying to find the answers to that one.

and lastly, “people always leave.”

and it was never my intention to hurt those i love the most.

but its easier to be the one leaving. its easier to give someone reasons to leave you, self-sabotage to barricade the lonely heart, the one who plays the mindgames and tests the other as vulnerability lingers above me – the enemy, like a black cloud.

it was never my intention, my 2013 angsty tumblr days (take two).

and im not really sure what to do anymore. maybe were all broken, and we just learn to deal – to function – as if we were shattered pieces of a porcelain doll, precariously pasted back together with an elmers gluestick. maybe were all hot fucking messes who cover it up with fake smalltalk, cheap facades to hide who we really are underneath the mask, the things weve mourned, the shit life has put us through, the truths and realities we want to bury.

my intention for this blog was so i could remember – the good and the bad, cherished moments and moments where i need a safe space to empty out my thoughts.

im just trying to find the healing in all of this – in writing, in music, in art. to have faith in people, and not thinking the worst in everybody right off the bat.

im just trying.

and thats probably all i can ask for right now.

GFY, fleur

GIRL WITH REFLECTIONS: a confession

if i thought 2021 was disturbing, i dont even know what to call 2022. a nightmare from hell? a shitshow? a wakeup call that were all supposed to be fucking miserable in this lifetime and all we can do is to learn to live with this heaviness?

i dont even FUCKING know at this point.

in retrospect, maybe 2021 wasnt as horrible as i had made it out to be – a depressing exaggeration of one-sided fights (in my head) with my boyfriend; hiding in my closet (literally), my refuge and safe haven from this unkind world; a belief that happiness is fleeting, an unattainable goal that we blindly chase with a false sense that we would ever achieve said “happiness.”

maybe 2021 wasnt as horrible as i had thought (maybe i would have posted more if “fun” was absolutely nonexistent in my life or maybe its the benzos that have literally obliterated my short-term memory, which recognizes sadness and anger more than the positive emotions). for someone whos cherished memories and feeling for all my life (heart on my sleeve or whatever BS), its ironic how much ive induced my own amnesia (is this my heaven or hell?).

in times of loneliness and trauma, my first instinct had always been to write in order to release those toxic, bottled up emotions that live rent free in my little low IQ mind. maybe i have nothing left to say anymore, or i realize that my words dont matter.

i let my thoughts rot, letting them devour my braincells as i weep to myself in a corner – and it doesnt fucking matter.

so today i take relief in klonopin, to make myself more of a smooth brain, to feel less so i could be “normal” and mildly functional.

i crave floating on clouds with quiet, nonintrusive thoughts: nothing matters, nothing exists. not you, not me, just complete silence.

and lately, numbness is my only retreat – to feel absolute nothing (the cleanest feeling in the world imo), to continue existing in my dreamworld where people we have lost are just “traveling to a foreign land” and not gone (forever), fantasy fueled by pills and time-traveling for days at a time because life is fucking miserable.

so heres my question for whatever this shitty ass universe has to offer, only to collect our miseries and suffering: am i supposed to expect that each year gets worse and worse or am i a spoiled little bitch that always needs to have her way? or do i just lack appreciation or awareness for the moments as they unwind in real time, only to reflect later: “it wasnt so bad.”

its the high highs and low lows with no sense of middle ground or stability, rollercoaster of emotions torpedoing over my life.

but the high highs – those moments make life bearable. “tiny dots on an endless timeline.”

just tiny dots, endless timeline – moments worth remembering, moments well pine the rest of our lives for knowing well never get them back, moments wed rather obliterate, concealed in the shadows of our minds.

looking back, 2021 wasnt awful at all – breakdowns (yes, of fucking course) but also cherished memories with those who are still here and those we will reunite with on the other side.

im not okay. im absolutely not fucking okay, but ill plaster on a fake dollfaced smile, and when people ask me how im doing, the autoresponse so theyd not interrogate further: “im fine.”

im fine. just fine. nothing is wrong, and nothing exists.

GFY, fleur (on klonopin)

GIRL WITH TWO BRAINCELLS: AN INTOXICATED AND POINTLESS TRAIN OF THOUGHT

*** TRIGGER WARNING: substances ***

if i missed any, LMK

im not really sure why im doing this to be honest (clearly i have not a single fucking clue why im even writing this at 4 am; its really time for me to channel in on the peak of my tumblr days and write more). maybe its my therapists advice, finally sinking into my thick skull that its time to log/journal, let go of pent-up emotions through actually doing something productive in understanding my triggers and spite. maybe its the dramatic, soapy spanish shows ive been binge watching on netflix that have the the sudden craving to be poetic.

but im not poetic (not to the least bit). this whole post probably wont make any sense, just stream-of-consciousness bullshit from an intoxicated human being. and probably no one will care, and i probably wont remember this in the morning (so i might not care either).

so today i went to a part of the city i havent really gone to since i moved out from the area. being in the vicinity, my anxiety has always skyrocketed; its like second nature.

“im literally on my knees begging to the higher powers that i do not run into adam*.”

in the past, ive definitely gone to that same area with adam, and its close to his house too. adam probably despises me at this point. it doesnt help knowing his last social media post was him holding two threatening, gigantic rifles aimed straight at the camera. im not sure how he took it when i suddenly decided to drop off the face of the earth, cut all communications with him. and when he started using different numbers to try to contact me, i had a full-on breakdown over this whole shitshow, during office hours in my work restroom.

but it wasnt always like that – there were better memories with adam, and he represents an actually *fun* past time. and im grateful for that, the recklessness and the memories that i wouldnt have the nerve to do on my own. and i was someone he’d confide in, sacrifice his trust to.

i was happy to pretend to be someone else for a while, and surrounded by a bunch of strangers who automatically think im smart because i graduated from college, i encouraged the ego feed. and i played into the partying, despite my true friends’ warnings about him.

now?

ultimately, i feel guilt. guilt i had to let him down, that i had to pick a side in the end of the day, and the final decision was not him. im still sorry.

i used to be the type of person whod write everything down, literally day of the event’s happening. but this one, im still processing but just needed to get off my chest a little bit. this will probably be brought up again at some point, but for now, im not ready.

ok, rant done and im done.

GFY, fleur

*name changed for privacy reasons 🙂