I wanna be known enough to not be alone when I die. I wanna be known when I walk down certain streets and ignored when I stomp down others. I wanna be hugged at the door. I wanna be asked for my opinion. I wanna be known by my chewed cuticle, by the hitch in my left lung, by the outline I leave in the sheets in the morning. I want other people’s dogs to lift their heads on the sidewalk. I want other people’s lovers to lift their heads on the train. I wanna be reckless with words and still have friends leftover. I wanna kiss someone new every spring.
When I was nine years old I wrote a letter to Oprah on a yellow legal pad. In this letter I asked for three things; a horse, a house we wouldn’t have to leave, and to go to college. My mother mailed it for me and I’ve always wondered if she read it (or sent it at all). What does it feel like to know that your daughter believes her dreams have a better chance of coming true if she asks someone else to birth them?
That summer I spent every weekday sitting with my younger sister on the floor of my grandmother’s living room, watching TV in front of a box fan. We were alone starting at the midmorning beginning of The Price Is Right until Oprah finished her show at 4pm. I could write trite lies about the lessons I learned during long summers spent keeping watch over someone else’s safety. I could tell you that responsibility for another life bloomed in me and gave me my first taste of a life with purpose. I could focus on the details of the comforts my mother tried to imagine into existence every morning before she left. The rare luxury of a bag of frozen grapes in the freezer. A sheet fastened to the curtain rods and draped around the box fan in a whimsical attempt at air conditioning. Her cheerful reminder that we were lucky to have what we have.
And for the first time in a year I’m missing picking through my thoughts and feelings and lining them up until they make more sense. My hands are cramped and there is a fog in my brain and all the other tired phrases people use to say “I am out of practice” apply. I’m ready to write again.
Two years ago I sat on a dirty kitchen floor with two women, one whom I already loved and one whom I did not. The one I loved had a baby, a house full of men and a yearning for connection with other women. She brought a list of questions with her, intent on asking & answering each one until she felt heard enough to go home and continue the loving drudgery of child care and a husband in grad school. These 36 questions were published in the New York Times under the headline “To Fall in Love With Anyone, Do This”. Asking & answering these questions is supposed to put two people in the middle of a frog pot where intimacy increases and mutual affection blooms before either party realizes what is happening.
No one fell in love that night in the kitchen, but I haven’t forgotten the experiment. This morning I saw a link to this blog, where a writer is answering one question a day for 36 weeks. I got inspired. So I’m going to answer these questions here, in this liminal internet space I keep for myself and a few others. Stay tuned.
Every boy I have dated is now happily with someone and experiencing love they have never felt before.
h8 u all
i actually got bored halfway through and stopped watching because i have taste
The tea’s kicking in now and… hhhhn… I want snugs and to fall asleep in someones arms…
No but I listened and liked it <3 so thanks, love me some indie soft vibes for the oranges… long drives in Kenny’s truck, getting ice cream on a warm night. hell yeah.
god why am I so bitter but also why does my ex only talk to me when it’s about herself like she doesnt even pretend to ask how I am before she jumps straight into how her and this guy who is kinda well known in this circle are flirting now and it’s like yeah I want her to be happy, but also, damn, she says were still friends but I also don’t think she really likes me. I just don’t think she ever really cared about me, even though she tried to, she just couldn’t and that shit still kinda hurts.
When are they putting season 2 of 911 back on Hulu
anyway i finished season 4 and oof boy it sure was something. i am both afraid of season 5 and also super hopeful, because this literally cannot be worse, right?
I love discovering a new show and just becoming absolutely PUMPED about it. LIKE YES. MORE PLEASE. MORE FOR ME TO SILENTLY OBSESS ABOUT. I LOVE THIS.
I ain’t get wet thoughts on my period 😔 all I be thinking bout is soft as shit like cuddles and falling in love
i’m in a fucking Soft Ass Mood and listening to Please Don’t Make Me Love You on repeat.
its rlly cute how instead of confronting my feelings for someone i just block them on all platforms and ghost them 🤪🤪l
*to the tune of ‘I Need a Hero’* I need a himbo
i had a dream that i met a girl and we fell in love and the last part where we had to say goodbye was genuinely heartbreaking.goomy if youre out there,
Me needing room on my computer: ugh I’ll get get rid of DAI. I’ll never play it. It’s a stupid game.
Me remembering you can play as a lady Qunari in DAI: fuck my life
ive played a lot of visual novel games and not once has the mc ever said someone else’s name while she was getting it on with another LI. and if you get the JD scene and romance logan, saying his name absolutely ruins the sex in some way bc when its over she tells him to get off of her. it is hilarious.