rare video footage of the first time ryan asked me to hang out
Depression is stupid and not a thing that makes me a better writer. One time I went a whole year without writing and I stayed in bed and drank. Fuck your Bukowskisms. I want sunlight and love and running down some street I’ve never been on where it’s warm and cool at the same time and I’m smiling. I want nothing to ever be bad again- and I don’t mean that I want a life free of conflict, I mean that I want a life free of meaningless conflict. Not being able to will oneself to take a shower or leave the house is meaningless. There is nothing to be gained, no lesson to be learned from that kind of life. My heart is stale, my prose is stale. Give me fire if you want to hurt me. Give me something I can taste. There’s nothing romantic or mysterious about where I am. There’s nothing here worth holding onto.
what is this guy’s deal?
i don’t know!! he is impressively muscular and he is an engineer and his name is patrick. one of the regulars - sean,* who i hate - brought him in the other morning and he gave me his number. sean was incredulous. “i don’t understand,” he said. “i’ve been hitting on her for weeks and then you just sit down and she takes your number? what’s up with that?” and i said, well, sean, he has the distinct advantage of making it through an entire conversation with me without calling me “hotpants” or “sweet tits” and also his arms are bigger than my waist so maybe you should think about that over your next round of mojitos, sean.
* overtanned, wears a lot of polo shirts, talks constantly while still managing to always be looking at his phone, sings along to the jukebox, mentions his jaguar - his “jag” - at least once every ten minutes, and is generally the bane of my weekday mornings.
seriously, though! you should tell me about your cities! i am slowly realizing that i could go anywhere i want and it is overwhelming.
met this lil guy waiting for the bus, bought flowers for myself, and my face is almost healed.
dude solidarity is the most garbage thing on earth, for real
i mean, i know you can’t run away from your problems, but it couldn’t hurt to have a few hundred miles in between them and me
lately i have been thinking more and more about leaving seattle. i am lonely and bored and restless. i’ve been here for almost two years and i have no friends, no partner, and (if we are being honest) a dead end job. why not?
i don’t know where, though. i’ve never even been further east than nevada! i’ve only ever lived in my hometown with my parents, then olympia for college, then seattle. portland was the first city i thought of, but i feel like if i am going to move i might as well go somewhere instead of just shuffling over to a slightly different version of seattle.
coleman - who i avoid now, for infinite reasons, including this one - does this thing where he mentions ryan, mentions talking about me with ryan, and then when i inevitably become agitated and anxious to know what was said he laughs at me and refuses to tell me. i ran into him at a bar last night and he told me ryan is a good dude - they drink together! he gave coleman a pack of cigarettes! a good dude, you see - and that it’s my own fault for provoking him. “he says you’re a sweet girl,” coleman said, “when you’re not drinking.”
when it comes to sewing patches onto things, i’m not trying to talk shit here, like, you do you, but also i cannot help but point out that a spool of thread costs about the same as dental floss
my floss is missing and my roommate has some new patches on his vest
i look at pictures of myself from earlier this year and remember how i thought and felt and i can’t help but think, oh my god, what a kid. not that i’m any kind of grownup now and not that i wasn’t already a cynical, mean little thing back then but the difference is still staggering. i had no idea. i still don’t! but like, i was with max and i thought we would be in love forever; i could not imagine at all being assaulted again; i was delighted and welcoming of any attention anyone paid me; i trusted my friends. i am sad for that person and i miss them and i also want to slap them a little, like, you baby, get ready.