machine

when i wake up / the first thing i do is check my phone / and when i go to bed / i count out the seconds in my head / until i don’t have to be alone / yeah, i can’t think of anything new / cause it’s swimming through my brain / it’s drowning / just off the coast as the wind grows louder / and the sky shakes through to its core / when i wake up / i’m just as exhausted as i felt the night before / it just never ends / when it comes down to it / yeah it’s 24/7 and i’m sitting down at my desk and i’m trying to find a meaning / but it just keeps on spinning / and if we could just stop for a moment / put this whole thing on ice / maybe i could catch a breath / figure out how to apologize / cause the words are spewing out of me too fast to count / i hope they keep on coming / i hope i never buy a house / or have a family / hope i work and work and work / and i burn myself down so you won’t forget me / hope i’m never satisfied, or happy / hope i’m everything i dreamed and more / hope the walls turn to fog, and smoke clogs my throat like cotton candy / hope i’m better than everyone else / like, really / and when i wake up / the first thing i do is check my phone, scroll through pictures of things i will never be / check my notifications / and go back to sleep


So… I have basically been on social media nonstop for a good three years now–and it’s starting to wear on me. At first, it was super fun, and exciting and all. But these days, it’s starting to wear on me. So I’ve been taking a semi-break of late, where once a week or so I’ll do the bare essentials and go back into hibernation. I think it’s good for me, not to spend so much time thinking about what strangers on the internet are doing with their lives, because sometimes, just scrolling through Instagram for five minutes makes me feel like garbage. I really love the internet–but I don’t love certain unavoidable aspects of it, and I think I just need a little bit of a break.

Lots of love,

Lorna

cellophane

the mesmerized city whispers its name. and it all makes sense, suddenly.

aching shoulders, and the ground beneath my feet. breath in my lungs, wind in the trees…

so just let it go. and leave it be. and let the bridges crumble. surrender my body to the ever-churning lies of history.

force your eyes wide open at two in the morning. hold the crushed glass in your palms, and tiptoe through the debri.

i prick my finger, like a half-ass sleeping beauty. but… i’m old enough to know now that no one’s coming to save me.


If I had a dollar for every time I’d been told to stop worrying about the future and live in the present, I’d be rich enough to… I don’t know, buy so many plants that they would gradually consume my entire house and eat me alive in my sleep. Okay, yeah, that metaphor is not helping prove the point.

Aaaanyhow. My point is, I am the type of person who’s financial planned out into my thirties; who’s got a monthly budget and an earning goal per month to help me save up to afford to rent or buy an apartment when I’m older. I am the type of person who freaks out when plans change, and who goes insane not knowing what exactly I have to do in a day. I like to know how my future is going to look.

But I get so caught up in that sometimes… well, I know this sounds cliche, but I lose sight of what’s actually happening around me.

I’m just so terrified by the passage of time. By the knowledge that I’ll only get to do this once, and I could mess it up, but… I mean, you can’t mess it up if you can’t do anything at all. Right?

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

highway exit: home

it’s funny, isn’t it? how the loneliness never really goes away, no matter how happy i am. because in the end, as it stands on the precipice of something like a doorway, i will always be crying on the floor like a fucking little kid, begging it to stay.

how the road stretches out to infinity. and i switch lanes; close my eyes, and despise the sound of blood pounding through my veins. because if my life was a movie, i’d skip right past this part of it, okay?

but god. i can’t wait to see you again. for a minute of normalcy before the sky finally caves. and i know it’s dramatic, but no matter what happens, the gentle gravity of your shoulder will never push me away.

and so my eyes slip closed as i turn down the exit. because we have to be home. don’t we, now? we have to be okay….

how to break free of gravity

  1. take in a big, deep breath. square your shoulders.
  2. focus on the steady thrum of gravity. lie down. let it bury you, in a cheap plastic crown. and you don’t want to move, but you have to, somehow… somehow… and someday, maybe this’ll all be worth it. but for now, you just don’t give a shit…
  3. run, like the fate of the universe depends on you. but it’s useless. because the monsters in your head are never going to leave you.
  4. feel the endless friction, grating against your skin. wearing your scraped, bleeding knees to nothing.
  5. scream at the top of your lungs. because if they get anywhere near you they’re going to hurt you. they’re going to kill you. and you’re so focused on surviving, you forget sometimes why you even bother trying like this…
  6. build a ladder to the moon out of scrap metal and school glue, and somehow feel genuinely surprised when its rungs refuse to hold you.
  7. let your shoulders slump, and your puffy eyes slip shut. you know those images, of forests after the wildfire has passed? in this moment, i know exactly what it is to be made up of pinecones, and ash.
  8. crash into the pillow at 1am, after finally finishing a project. dream about goat cults, or healing, or something else completely ridiculous.
  9. twirl around in a cute dress. take a rose-scented bath. make yourself pancakes for breakfast, and do not feel guilty about the time you could have spent on something more productive than your own happiness. romanticize the little things in your life. pretend to be a studio ghibli protagonist. because… i mean… that’s something, isn’t it?

Anxiety and depression are very confusing, conflicting experiences. They feed off each other, and often I’m feeling depressed and anxious at the same time, but they’re also total opposite experiences, anxiety making me hyperactive and frenetic and depression making me placid and numb. And if just having one at a time was a headache, and strongly feeling both at the same time is even worse.

Being in my own brain can just feel so overwhelming, sometimes. Like every day is just one massive game of tug-of-war where a thousand screaming little children, aka my many mental health problems fight for control.

But sometimes it feels… more like those games of Would You Rather my friends and I used to play on long car rides. You know, you’d come up with two terrible, and usually mildly gross situations, and try and pick between them. (For some reason, that game always gave my anxiety—still does, to be honest.) For example, go to school, and experience crippling panic and self-hatred; spend the rest of the day burnt out and exhausted. Or stay at home all day in my room, and feel depressed and numb and dissociative all day, staring at a screen doing nothing at all, gradually becoming more and more paranoid. It’s like I can never escape it, no matter where I turn, is what I’m trying to get it.

I don’t have an easy, conclusive answer to any of this stuff. I don’t think there is one, and honestly I’m not in a great place right now—this is my first real bout of depression since I got out of therapy, and it really sucks. But I hope this blog can be a refuge from the storm raging in your mind, even if only for a couple of minutes.

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings

ya novel protagonist

today, i am a ya novel protagonist. except… i can’t do anything about this. and the world falls apart before me; armageddon unfolding live on tv, and maybe nothing is ever going to be okay again.

because the people i love could leave. and everything i’ve worked so hard to build up could fall apart in a second.

today, the walls collapse in on me. but maybe, if i squint, i can still imagine my life pretty. and yet no matter how hard i try, it still won’t mask the stench of this reality.

today, the laugh track plays as i try to wean myself off this obsession. but i can’t. i can’t do it. because the honest truth is… i don’t know who i am without it.

and i tried asking the stars for help. yesterday. but all they did was laugh down on me, their eyes twinkling with pride. and they told me… little girl, don’t lie to yourself. you’re nobody.

and, i mean… they’re not wrong, honestly.


My therapist says it’s bad self-talk, but no matter what she tells me… sometimes, I just can’t help but feel just a little bit broken. It’s panic-writing-on-a-Sunday-night-because-I-never-learned-healthy-work-habits-and-go-between-completely-ignoring-all-of-my-responsibilities-and-working-for-eight-hours-straight hours, so I really can’t remember how much detail I’ve previously gone into about this. But anyhow, essentially the deal is that I had a pretty unconventional childhood, even if you leave out my mental illness, which manifested at a very early age, it often feels like there are these… missing pieces, I guess. Things I should have learned or experienced–but never did. Memos the other kids seemed to all get, and I just… missed out on. And more than that, parts of my brain that just refuse to cooperate with me, no matter how hard I try and force them to work with me. Like I’m just barely limping through my life, because no matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to truly experience it in any positive way. Does that make sense? I’m damaged goods, is what I’m trying to get at. The broken piece of pie, the sad, drooping lettuce, an old laptop that won’t turn on.

And, like, what are you supposed to do about that? How do you go on? That’s a question I’ve been grappling with for a really long time, and what I tried to base this poem on.

Anyhow, I am very tired, and chugged a very intense and mildly disgusting matcha latte to get this post done (which I am starting to regret) so hopefully you enjoyed, and now I’m going to try and sleep. Maybe I’ll proofread this tomorrow or something; hopefully it’s coherent.

Lots of love,

dragonwritesthings