a manageable mess
i haven’t written in a while. partly because my computer dies if it’s not plugged in and partly because i felt like there wasn’t much to write about i restrict myself to writing when something hurts so my blog reads like i romanticize every bad thing that’s ever crossed my path. writing because i forgot to schedule therapy or because i forgot to take my meds and decide death is the best option or because im not good at eating or because i fell in love and it didn’t go well or that i miss my dad or that someone passed which at some point these were all true and sometimes still feel accurate but maybe i just have a better perception or maybe i have learned to accept these things maybe i have grown in the ways i lied about. (somewhat) because now when my room is a mess or my laundry becomes a geologic timeline or my calendar insists it’s last month when my trash is overflowing and dishes gather in every corner my mom says i act like im living in a hotel and my cat makes it clear he’...