february 2nd 2024

everywhere i go i feel like i’m performing and i wonder if i’ve lost my mind

i’m hugging every wall and eyeing the party like i landed here by mistake

ahead is a collection of colors and shapes and voices, and i can’t sift anything else from the sandbox. i want to carve my way out and circle the damage and see it all from some other angle, as they stand there paused, photograph-people. 

when the actors and flats and set retire offstage i see through to the other side, the wide black wall, and i get a look at the gears that are turning and catch the fumes of the steam. and faced with those forbidden corners of my design i don't see a lot of reason to keep going

for some time i’ve been greatly depressed, vulnerable to psychotic episodes—unrelated to you, more about my facility in the act of perception itself. it comes at night, but most nights i have a task to make nice with people, who i then must commit to masking for. at least they don't find me aggressive--i'm at best a blank slate in fae drag, at most a dainty trembling sort of girl burdened by lack of socialization. i just get so lonely and sad because i scramble inside my safehouse body, but then i can’t convince the spinning wheel to stop or run its course. and i honestly think it’s because a lot of me doesn’t want to be alive. i think i have lost sight of the 'magic', or whatever bullshit script i came up with when i was small to glamorize my future. i don’t like the world, and i think we’re all just scrapping around to stay breathing like animals do, not for something we’ll find further down the road, but because eventually we’re old and everything we’d have done was huge, and it’ll be okay to leave. but i think i might have cracked right through that system, so i can’t die normal, and i probably won’t. instead i’m going to shred out of here in some other way and i don’t know when it’s coming, but god at every moment might be on his way to call me away. in the meantime i prance through concrete in french new wave costumes as if everyone can’t see that i’m nothing, that i'm a cliché, compensation. a mirror palace tease

tell me the flaws in me 

tell me what's wrong so i'll be good for the next one

only you know

so there must be a reason