Dear Nobody™️, @addressedtonobody - Tumblr Blog

Nobody™️ 2025

It all feels like a dream - a bad dream at that. I’m sitting here recalling the Senate confirmation hearing for Project 2025 champion Steve Vought as our Director of Management and Budget under the Cheeto master himself, Donald J Trump. I’m willing to bet the J stands for Jackass. Nobody™️ (who matters) likes him. Anyway.

There Steve sits, with his prickly white mustache hugging greasy pursed lips the color of irritated skin. Fumes of carefully controlled, self-righteous, haughty anger and indignation steaming under the surface of a barely concealed scowl, hinting at a private inner temper tantrum triggered by the audacity of a people that would challenge his God-given right to exert control over a population that will never, ever respect him.

It reads villain from a movie I would normally watch to escape real life, but this is real life. How is this real life? When did reality transform into a horror flick of gruesome proportions? How did the sketchy characters come to life (and power)? When did we fall asleep and enter this nightmare of a clown show? Is that why there were forest clowns in 2016? Did I really just say that? How the fuck is any of this real?

Turn the goddamn movie off; I’ve had enough! But I am curious…what role do I play? Always imagined myself as the main character, a heroine worthy of love, admiration, and respect who swoops in to save the day and rides off on her own goddamn white horse (it could be any color, really, as long as there’s a horse). The ego is strong with this one.

Why then do I feel like an extra in my own movie, slinking around in the background of my own fucked up life? Will I find courage when it matters most? Or is now that time, the time when it matters, and here I am just waiting around for a better opportunity to be brave?

What the fuck do I do? Flee with the scholars to brave a new life on foreign lands, or keep my feet planted firmly on home soil and join the resistance? Run, hide, fight - those are the options. Whatever happens, I can’t let them change me. I can’t let them darken my soul.

Addickted to Nobody™️

The moth is drawn to his flame.

Will he envelop her in a warm embrace?

Or is she destined to burn again?

Does the outcome even matter?

Will knowing make a difference?

Or does she welcome the inferno either way?

Should she be ashamed?

Or was it always meant to be this way?

Does he burn low enough to keep her safe?

Or is it a fantasy helping her accept fate?

No one can say.

But the moth is on her way.

Steady path toward the blaze.

Nobody™️ v. Nobody™️

[Reposting from 2022 on FB]

🇺🇸 This is not the America I grew up in. I dedicate a good portion of my life serving the people who defend our nation, and I show up every day because I still believe in the country that broke my heart.

Before today, I was disheartened by the overturn of RvW and the idea that a state and its constituents have more rights to my body than I do. I wanted to throw up when I learned about a child who would be forced to carry her own sibling inside her; real stories of beautiful people who wouldn’t otherwise be here; and how SA/DV victims will be further terrorized. 🥺

But I didn’t think it would impact me directly, not under the circumstances. Today, I learned that I’m not as privileged as I thought, and that I can’t take for granted what rights I still have. I didn’t realize what else was on the table; hadn’t even considered it a possibility. Then again, I took RvW for granted (having lived under its protection my entire life).

I was raised Catholic. I understand and even support your personal beliefs. Your religious freedoms are, and should be, protected by the people I serve. Separation of Church and State means that you get to live and make decisions for yourself according to your own religious beliefs, AND I get to do the same. Don’t forget the “and.” My decisions may surprise you. But I’m the only one who gets to decide for me, and I don’t get to decide for anyone else, and neither do you. I support every single human who made reproductive decisions that were right for them, and I’m grateful they had a choice.

Real lives will be destroyed. Change your vote. 🇺🇸

Nobody™️ Cares

Small talk isn’t my thing and it shows. I don’t care about trivial facts like what your favorite movie is or where you went to school. Invite me inside your mind and tell me how that movie shaped your character, what school was like for you and how it influenced your sense of humor. Show me your soul so I can recognize you in the next life.

Born to Be Free

Words screaming of possession

Painted upon the canvas of a beautiful creature

Trapped in a cage of seclusion.

She is majestic…

Lovely to observe from a distance,

Yet still a wild animal.

She knows where she belongs, and

This is not it.

Yearning to spread her wings and fly away,

She breaks free of the chains,

Never looking back.

She sees poachers

From a vantage point miles high…

May even swoop down,

Gaze into their eyes...

But a glimpse of that smile takes her back.

She remembers feeling trapped.

Freedom in jeopardy,

Heart beating with anxiety,

She flees.

Soaring away as if there’s no tomorrow;

Her happiness depends on it.

The fog lifts, and to her dismay,

She can feel again

The weight of ball and chain.

It was only a dream.

There is nothing wrong with the cage.

The problem lies within;

She is wild.

Born to be Free.

Picture this:

Santa’s elves, but in heaven. Weaving together all the different pieces of a human. Accounting for margin of error in manual processes, “nobody™️ is perfect” - but most still pass quality inspection.

Now picture this:

One little shit elf took the quality inspector out for their birthday and the next morning they stumble in smelling of liver failure. They’re just trying to make it through the day and get these human things out the door so they can clock out and crash. Nobody™️ stops them.

It’s me. They were building me. I’ve solved the mystery of my fucked up existence. The end.

We’re still here, and you did that.

All of the things you hate about yourself are the things I love the most about you. People like you. Believe them when they say you light up the room. Don’t believe the ones who told you you were bad when you were actually being the *best* kind of good.

You are strong *and* soft, a rebel fighter whose heart is full of love. You didn't let them turn you into a monster. You are smart and kind and fucking hilarious. You have a unique capacity to see beauty in the darkest of places.

No child should have to feel this way, but you survived it. You got us this far.

You rest, and I’ll take it from here.

I’ve got this, kid. I love you. 🫂

Nobody™️ Winds

Is there something else about this wind that took everything? Does it represent youth, or innocence lost trying to find its way back to me in a force of pure rage, desperate to reach me through the obstacles designed to test our strength at every bend? Meanwhile the inner child cries out I’M NOT BAD and the higher self returns IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT and I am here swirling about in the wake of their delicate waltz, the fire blazing inside as strong and bright as the gusts that threaten to snuff it out, even if they’re only just trying to help. Disappointment left behind in the absence of hope, but I choose my own company.

I’m back on my bullshit, y’all. Nobody™️ reads this anyway so whatever. I’m only having a moment (albeit intense) - it’ll pass. Super healing has occurred within me on like a magical fucking unbelievable level over the years, but some wounds cut deep and fester. Though I’m making SO much progress I still wonder, will I ever meet the mark? Yeah, probably. I compare to 10 years ago and the core of my personality is still there, but without the toxic cloud. Tick tock though, motherfucker. I don’t want to be working this hard and sacrifice the beauty that life has to offer, then finally get to the finish line and it’s like, cool, welcome to the pearly gates. The fuck?

Stumbled on a poem I wrote/read at an open mic in 2018 and it appears to be pieced together from my other posts:

In a room full of people I am often alone. With a steady hum of voices whirling around me, I retreat into myself. Deep inside, their drowning words fail to penetrate my mind. Tiny hands extend from my brain, reaching out to grasp my face as if to say - PAY ATTENTION to this life, you only get one chance. But I can’t.

You see, at 13 my innocence was stolen from me, lost to the bottom of a can of Milwaukee’s Best Light and into the sheets we laid on that night, this not long before I attempted to take my own life. At 14 I ran away from home, into the arms of a man full grown. Twice my age, he knew wrong from right, but that night he chose to steal my inner light. I stumbled into the suffocating embrace of a boy who showed me the meaning of hate, he grabbed me by the face after letting me get raped, and guess who he blamed? He sealed my fate. Four long years he stripped me of my dignity until all that was left was an empty shell of who I used to be. I thought he set me free until I became my own worst enemy. Too much to drink, they slipped inside of me, leaving behind their greedy seed until the last attack, when I fought back. Surrounded by friends but nobody™️ stepped in, they said I LET him.

Two years later he struck again - with a child...so I could no longer pretend. I couldn’t let him get away - she was 16! So I took him to court and I’ll never forget that day. “Do you remember helping my client put a condom on? Do you remember performing falacio on him? Do you remember being on top of him? No? So you don’t know if you had sex. Oh, you felt it. Please tell me in graphic, intimate detail what it is you felt. Your honor, what we have, quite honestly, is a one night stand - if, in fact, it happened, because she doesn’t remember.”

This scene plays over and over like some cruel form of torture. Instead of strobe lights and nursery rhymes on repeat my thoughts are invaded by pictures of this creep flopping on top of me. Before the image reel moves to a place I cannot bear to recall, my brain shuts down, blocking it all. My heart’s barrier hardens and its core temperature drops a degree, every trace of my soul tormented as I crumble to pieces. Bile creeps up, a dull ache weighing on my chest, suffocating my heart like a snake coiled around its prey, slithering its way into ugly knots until it feels like my eyes are gonna pop, fear pulsating through my veins as I struggle to breathe - this is what PTSD is like for me.

There is no present threat besides this noose resting around my neck, but no matter. My body believes danger lurks around every corner, and why shouldn’t it? Monsters are real. They live inside of us and are more dangerous than the creatures we imagined hiding under our childhood beds. Maybe children do know more than we do. Maybe they sense the evil around them and manifest that into a gruesome image, because how else do you make sense of it? Maybe if I had continued believing in monsters none of this would have happened.

The comfort of home is lost to me forever and I mourn the darkening of my soul when I know it was meant for so much more. I stew over the injustice of it all, wishing I could have stood up to the world with all its shadows and pain and said, ‘here I am, to stay.’

Just then the wind stirs, small and quiet at first, whispering, growing in volume as if it has something to say, picking up strength, like that small fire deep inside, summoned by the heart to keep moving forward. The trees begin to respond, damp leaves casting ripples on the pond and as lights flicker, people look up.

We hear you.

Nobody’s™️ Privileged

Fun fact: I was technically homeless for a short period in my adult life - more accurately, between homes. I don’t really think about it much because it wasn’t all that bad for me - I had a warm bed to sleep in at night (RIP Granny 😘), a clean bathroom to bathe in, food to eat, a car to keep my belongings in, and parents to eventually move in with. I had a safety net and a foundation to start from, slowly climbing my way back to where I am today. I was loved and cared for, and Nobody™️ made me feel ashamed that I couldn’t afford my own home. That’s what privilege looks like. That’s the difference between me and that guy sleeping out in the cold tonight, the one we look down on because we forget how easily we too could lose everything. We take our privileges for granted and try to deny that we had a leg up, as if that would somehow negate our hard work and achievement. Yeah, I worked hard for what I have...but I didn’t have to fight as hard as he does. He is not less than, he just *had* less than, and it’s a damn miracle that he’s still out there trying to survive in a world where the odds are stacked against him. I would argue in some cases that he is “more than,” because he doesn’t see someone who is struggling and kick them while they’re down.

Dear Self-Doubt,

I started writing to powerlessness, but then I realized that the power I seek resides within me; I just can’t access it, because of you. While I recognize that your cautionary ways have had their place in keeping me safe, you’ve abused your power and taken mine away. Your role is advisory; you were never meant to dictate my life.

Because of your overwhelming influence I feel trapped by circumstance, powerless to make a difference, unable to accept that my dreams are within the realm of possibility. I hate my job and the stress of it makes me sick, but I stay put...because it’s comfortable, because it’s known...because I don’t believe in myself. I want to brave a new career, one that is meaningful and enjoyable, but I don’t even know what it is I would like to do because you interrupt the creative process even as I brainstorm the possibilities; you shut me down with the fear of uncertainty.

Your voice says, “Who do you think you are? What makes you think you deserve this? Do you really think you have what it takes? What if it doesn’t work out - will you be able to survive this? Can you handle the disappointment? Is your ego strong enough to withstand failure? Will you still be able to take care of yourself?”

You are a self-inflicted weapon rooted in fear and shame, and because of you I live half a life. I want to be able to take chances even when I’m not sure of the outcome, to consider the risks without dismissing the possibilities, to strike the balance between bravery and caution, recklessness and careful planning. I want to be able to connect with people without placing the responsibility of my self-worth in their hands and to stand up to others instead of accepting the consequences of being small. I want to chase my dreams and reach my potential without your weight on my shoulders, holding me back.

I can’t do any of that if I don’t believe in myself, and until now you’ve taken that power away from me. I deserve better, though, so I no longer accept the mediocre way of life that you’ve offered as a price for my safety. From now on that power and responsibility is my own. I am strong enough and I am smart enough, and I can do this without you. So, this is goodbye.

But will I ever be strong enough again to open my mouth and not have a cry of raw pain leap out?

Draft...beer?

I’m sitting at a bar by myself, downtown, desperate to escape my self-imposed isolation. You see, I crave and fear human connection in equal measure. Sitting alone in the safety of my home, I feel a yearning to reach out, extend my reality beyond these walls, but the moment I start planning departure I freeze, paralyzed by the thoughts running through the maze of my shattered brain. The pieces broken long ago, no Magellan can navigate the dark, jagged twists and turns...but the rare seeing eye will tell you it’s like a broken mirror glued back together, solid and everlasting, stronger than ever before, and beautiful in its destruction. It emits a signal, the siren of love, so strong and unyielding but hidden behind the cracks, protected by a force just as strong. The struggle between light and dark as old as time, the same old story told again and again. She wants to love, to feel, to connect, but she remembers a time when all of that destroyed her and she never wants to feel that pain again. She is not me. She is the ancient part of me that died long ago, but she lives within me like a steady heartbeat, a reminder that I’m still alive and I better stay that way, because there is so much left to do.

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Dear Nobody™️,