the writer is a sad kitty

i romanticize shallow thoughts in my head and put them here

[its-funnytwittertweets]

[mattcannotsitstill]

Hard to top a desert sunset. #desert #desertsunset #taos #newmexico #fujifilmxt20 #fujixt20

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Hello Reader, It's 2026, Let's be Delusional

This year, I will be delusional — extra delusional. I will be more intentional with my actions, my words, my dreams, and the steps I'm taking to get there. I will be more disciplined but forgiving, be happier, angrier, sadder, funnier, be more. This year, I will be more me.

I keep thinking about how I never know what I wanted to be, so maybe it’s better to just list down everything I want to be and then narrow them down to what comes rational. I want to make more music, I want to post more episodes on my own podcast, I want to write more, I want to start making audio recordings of my voice and try voice acting. I want to dress more like me, I want to be healthier, I want to be better. I want to actually be better. I want to read all of the books on my bookshelf before I buy anything new. I want to be more active, use more of the things I pay for, and find things to do that don't cost money. I want to be more open, more vulnerable with my friends. I want to spend more time with my family. I want to be more present with my pets. I want to continuously be a better partner for my love. I want to be more eco-conscious, I want to start paying off my debts, I want to start saving. I want to stop comparing myself to whatever other people are doing. I want to be somebody, I want to be me.

I want to drink more water, eat better, cook more, consume the right amount without being gluttonous. I want to consume more music, create more playlists, I want to be a DJ in my own home. I want to make more art, I want to be a part of the future. I want to design more, I want to create more. I want to get to know more people, be more alive with people, be more open to the concept of knowing people. I want to take up space, I want to actually — like, actually — stop caring about what other people think. I want to walk more, I want to run more, I want to commute more. I want to convert my Ubers into bus rides, into train rides, into cut rides, even if they don't make sense. I want to go to parties, to cafes, to restaurants I haven't tried. I want to be at people's weddings, at babies' baptisms, people's birthdays, anniversaries. I want to clean more, kill more roaches in the house even. I just want to be me — but better. Me — but wiser. Me — with more and better boundaries. Me — but more intentional. Me — and more excited with the prospect of life. Me — but towards the dreams I've always wanted to achieve.

I want to be in movies, I want to be in music, I want to be in conversations, I want to be a bigger version of me. I want to stop being afraid of aging, I want to love that each year I get older, I become more myself. I want to take up space. I want to live my life more because I only get to be me once, and I'll be damned if I don't give myself that.

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sudden death by not going viral

There’s a certain contained recklessness to being a writer — like a really good writer. I keep reading things and continuously find out I’m not that writer yet, which isn’t at all demotivating, but more like wow, I never thought this sentence could ever have been formulated, or I never thought anyone could think about this thought the way it’s put on paper. And I am in deep determination to write a strew of paragraphs so addicting you’ll wonder, in frustration, why it even ended.

As you may or may not know, I’ve had a love-hate relationship with writing since I was a child. Now that I think about it, it’s not the writing per se, but the aftermath of what comes once things get published. Mostly, I battle either an overwhelming sense of wow, I did that, or a deep, guttural ache of regret. Like, hello? The evil eye is amongst us type shit. And I constantly think I write for myself — which I know I do — I’m one of those people who stalk themselves and can’t get enough. But sometimes I’m like, why hasn’t anything I’ve written gone viral yet? Then I realize it might be because I’ve mostly written about myself, for myself, and so it’s never really reached a target audience.

And I’m fully aware that for the past couple of years I’ve always been telling myself I’m going to start putting myself out there, but never do. Maybe now is really the time I walk the shit I’ve been talking. And so now I’m trying to figure out if I should be posting this, or let the evil eye completely take over my psyche, drive me into fear of ever posting anything, and just enter sudden death.

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blogger scammer yapper popper

I had the itch to write, so here I am. You know how most of the things I've dreamt about doing don't usually come to fruition? I think about how it’s most probably me who's the cause — because it is true, the enemy is the inner me. What are the dreams broken and left in shambles, only to be found in the chasmic archive of my life? Ah yes — to be interviewed by Ellen before she got cancelled by the almighty Dakota Johnson; then by Kimmel before he got banned by Disney for having opinions — for being a musician, or the first Asian actress, or at least Filipino, to be in the Star Wars franchise. Both spots are already taken by now, I'm afraid.

I think about the years that have gone by and what I've done on the daily. And while I understand empires aren't built in a day, I wonder — how many Romes would I have built if I wasn't a raging procrastinator with huge tendencies to daydream and not do anything about it? I think about all of the hobbies I started but never even reached the amateur level of mastering, the projects I’ve begun and hated during the process of — more so hating myself while making them, for being so incompetent and impatient.

Perhaps it is the environment I was raised in, plus the aching need to survive on the daily, that I've never really purposefully followed any of my dreams. But also this — exactly this: the need to blame something on a system. A system I was raised in but never defied, to the point that my esteem has dwindled with it — vaporized in front of my eyes — so I have to settle with being mediocre. And I forget sometimes that being mediocre can be fun, especially when you've fully embraced it. It becomes so obsolete that embracing mediocrity might even push me to be great, if that even makes any sense.

And so, I type this instead of working, because yet again I'm in daydream mode — procrastinating on things that need to be done, and maybe self-sabotaging a future that I've longed for. There's a reason people like me are obsessed with fanfiction: there's so much possibility, so much structured drama, and endless chances for disappointment without actual repercussions. Which now leads us to not being afraid to fail — such a common phrase that even I'm annoyed to see myself typing it out loud. To be cringe is to be free — and perhaps it's time for me to be.

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Typing this on my work issued laptop

I'm on my fourth job of the year! Hooray? Sike! Its honestly a new position so even I nor the person I report to, knows what the fuck I'm doing. So far, all I know is that I need to dress well and know the product, that's all. After that, my brain dwindles into a crisp and I have no idea what else to do. Well I'm only ever on my third week? So that's a valid experience. I also want to start working out, I'm getting bigger by the minute bro. Aside from that, I also wanna start writing again. I have more time in the evenings, so I'm really not stoked, but the second emotion to that. My goal is to just show up to work til I learn what the fuck there is to learn.

I mean I've been studying for the past couple of days but I'm not sure that corresponds to actually knowing stuff. It's mostly looking at catalogs and whatever the fuck I can get my eyes on.

Oh! Another thing I've realized this early on is that everyone knows almost everything, so I better shut the fuck up. Everyone talks loudly in spaces and everyone is in the know about fuck ups and even the most minute things so you know what? I'm just gonna shut the fuck up and not say a word, if I can be mysterious, however impossible that might be, I will be lol. HONESTLY LOL but whatever it takes to survive.

I'm also starting to get really depressed again, I have no idea why. Well actually, I know why but its a clusterfuck of things. Money, time, energy - the basics, you know.

I also resubscribed to chatgpt and got the plus, I know, it's crazy, I'm broke but still managed to do it - it's stupid. But I honestly just feel more secure having a robot tell me things and be at my beck and call.

I even ran this through the chat but it sounded so weird (I know! I write my blog posts then run them through the chat? I do so what? I just wanna see how else it can be written)

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these photos exist

also will my bf mind if i tag @rcameronofficial

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brb will be hiding

In light of everything going terribly wrong in my life, I’ve decided to retreat. I’ll be consciously choosing only the trips and company I feel up for—beyond what I’d already planned two weeks ago. I’m broke, depressed, anxious, and currently in the middle of a full-blown crisis. I’m in no condition to be out socializing or pretending I’m okay.

So, I’m going to hide for a while—sit with myself, stew in my own little echo chamber. This is an unnecessary apology in advance to anyone who wants to see or talk to me. I’m not trying to be an asshole, I just really need to disappear for a bit.

It’s reached a point where I know I’m going to make mistakes, and I don’t need an audience for it—whether to cheer me on, pity me, or offer advice I didn’t ask for. I’m about to dive deeper into the mess, and for now, only this blog and my journal will bear witness.

Yes, I know how ironic that sounds.

Let this be a mess of truths: I hate my life. I hate it. Yeah, there are a few good things—a couple of friends who make it bearable, a lover, a tight-knit family. But none of that erases the fact that things feel deeply, painfully shitty.

I'm broke. And honestly, I don’t even mind being broke—if only I could just pull myself together enough to pay the bills. I don’t care about missing hangouts or skipping out on plans. I’m checked out. Maybe it’s surrender, maybe it’s something else—I can’t even tell anymore. But if this is how the rest of my year will go—me not seeing anyone, me disappearing—then so be it. I think I need it.

Maybe it’s the evil eye. Maybe it’s depression digging its heels into my brain. Either way, I’m not okay.

I have two trips planned. I have a job I’m not even sure I like. And yeah, I feel guilty admitting that—this is the second time I’ve been hired here, and it’s insane that I’m even in this position again. But I’ve hit a point where I have to do what’s best for me—or at least what feels like it could be better.

It’s a chill job, not exactly low-risk, and if we’re talking money, maybe even high reward. But I’m miserable. I know part of that is my mental health. But the rest? It’s because I genuinely have no idea what I’m doing. I'm honestly embarrassed sometimes. I know it's only been a month, but I can't help it. I want to grow, who wouldn't? But I also have this looming feeling of imposter syndrome coming along.

People keep telling me to use this time to explore other things. But what if there’s nothing else I want to do? What if the only thing I want to get paid for is the thing I can’t figure out how to make happen yet?

I’m at my wit’s end. Another looming problem is quitting this job. Because then what? Where will I go? I won’t quit until I find something else—but when will that be?

I am so fucking pissed. It’s crazy.

[cybersadchats]

Going through a quarter life crisis

and its really bad. Im working a job that doesn't have to o with my degree, I am terrified of phone calls and I am lowkey highkey dying inside. My friends have been saying to not care that my job isn't remotely related to my degree as long as I'm able to pay my bills but I'm craving something creative. I guess I should just find a hobby, but it would be so nice to get paid doing what I love. I'm so burnt out I've literally been depressed for almost a year and down bad for almost 6 months now its crazy

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I'm getting bigger

It's crazy, bigger as in physically bigger. Not bigger like I've suddenly gotten famous, or bigger like I've grown 2 inches taller, bigger like I've gained weight. This post will be about body dysmorphia so if that is triggering to you, please scroll away. I' stick between just accepting I've gotten overweight to locking in and actually doing something about it. I lie to myself by going on the treadmill as if that's enough for me to reach my goal weight and scroll endlessly on Pinterest looking at the bodies of women I would want for myself, knowing I'm not doing the work. My arms are fucking thick, I've got back fat - rolls of them, and a belly. I know it's a functioning body, but sometimes it's not enough. I'm turning 27 and I know that if I get to 30 without changing anything I'm going to be stuck there forever and that cannot happen.

Aside from my weight, I've also been stuck in corporate limbo - I have no idea what I want to do, my roommate said that I need to find fulfillment elsewhere and that shouldn't just be with my job but I can't help but be like that you know? It's all I've ever known, design is all I've ever known. And now I'm working a totally different job regardless if it is one of the chillest jobs I've ever gotten. I do have huge anxiety when it comes to phone calls though, which I need to be immune to soon.

I really have no idea what I'm doing - which is the understatement of the century. I'm in a job I don't remotely like but tolerate, I live in an apartment that doesn't feel like home anymore, and I'm in an age where I know I need to get my shit together even by a bit at this point. Like it's not even me pressuring myself too much at this point, but really just to at least get some things to a T.

Blaze

0 notes

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been a while

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at the beach, life is so small sometimes and it feels relieving to know it is.

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It'sa different kind of pain to say goodbye to your mom as she exits the doorway to head home from your home. :(((( I never thought I'd say this, but I wished we lived in the same house again :((((

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Who knew listening to the 2AM Club

Would help curb my anxiety. Not fully but at least to accompany it and help sort of manage it. I get anxious over the littlest things, the most miniscule news can pass my radar and my chest would be heavy for hours, my mood would totally shift and stay in that low feeling for a long time. And then I'd be in limbo - doing God knows what. And to be honest, I think I'm not even mentally fit to work. I am not okay bro, I am not okay. But then what the fuck can I do? I need a job. I need money to survive. I need to survive. I fucking hate it here.

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To yap is to let go

I am still jobless hehe - and honestly am panicking but what can one do? I keep thinking about opportunities I've said no to, but also things that will come in the future and I am getting hopeless. I'm getting more hopeless and hopeless by the minute. Not just because I haven't found a job yet but because I honestly feel useless... Like I shouldn't be here. I'm not really sure what to do anymore.

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I'm literally shadowbanned everywhere

It could be metaphorical, or it could be literal. Literal in the sense that no one is liking the things I'm putting out on social media—the highest number of likes I think I've ever gotten is, like, 60. And the comments? Phew, you can't even read any. It's like I'm in the wrong crowd, which I probably am. This is where the metaphorical sense comes in: no one likes what I put out, but it's probably because I'm not surrounded by anyone other than my roommate, my boyfriend, and maybe my family. I've shrunk my circle so much it's become a dot.

I've put myself in this weird purgatory that's been cultivated by people who hate me, actually using this as a reason to engage. And I'm not saying this for the sake of self-pity; I'm just stating something I've observed over the past year. I know I've posted less and less, but I also just haven't been cultivating any relationships over the past couple of months.

Pause. I think I have to give myself some slack because I did manage to form new friendships with people—genuine friendships with at least 4 or 5 people. And that's honestly a lot because these are actual, genuine relationships that I'm happy to have built. Lol, I'm saying "built" as if it's a game. But really, I think I have to give myself some slack because, even though I've been dwelling in the gutters of the internet and invisible in real life, I still managed to form relationships with these people.

Plus, everyone's been talking about the evil eye. It's honestly annoying to me now. Everyone's so scared about sharing a part of themselves because of the evil eye—you know what I mean? I feel like everyone's projecting because they know how bad it can get behind closed doors since they take part in it too. And it's really ridiculous. I don't know.

And now I'm literally scared because of it, bro. Like, it's not even funny. Everyone talking about it is making me paranoid that people just genuinely hate people. And I myself am a hater, but it honestly can't be that bad—let people post what they want to post.

I'm trying to be more free with it so I myself won't have to care what they think. And even if it'll shrink my small little dot more, I'm hoping it'll attract the right people.

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The Manifestation Tactic

I was writing a whole entry just 10 minutes ago about the exact same topic, but it honestly didn't even feel like it was me writing it. It felt like I was rushing all just to produce something like it was homework, which is definitely not the way to go. It felt absolutely pretentious. It also felt like it had to be checked by ChatGPT just to make it a decent read - which is something I want to stop doing. Did you know, I almost haven't written anything without that damn robot giving my stuff a once over? It's really got to stop. I've gotten to a point where my anxiety is so strong that I need to have a literal robot filter whatever I put out. My ADHD also is still at an all time high but to be honest, I'm trying to change perspectives. I would love to beat my anxiety to a pulp and be a functional member of my delusional society and be relevant. My new therapist keeps trying to negate me and says I should be rational, which I get it, I do. I mean I'm already hopeless - so her saying that? Doesn't really help my case. But fine, I'll meet her for a couple more sessions just to get my prescriptions and explore some self help books, and I hate self help books, but it's literally gotten to a point. To that point! I've been saving a bunch of things on my Pinterest board, outfits and hairstyles that I think I'd look best in. Oh and makeup too, even when I end up just doing the same thing every time - I mean why not. And the funny thing about it is that I was prepping it in the hopes that I might actually get a new job where I can come to the office a few days a week and get dressed up, but I'm still jobless (today's my last day at this godforsaken job - so yay!) so it doesn't really feel like I'm going anywhere anytime soon. And even if I do go outside which I can because I have more time now, I don't have money, so everything's a joke to be honest. Anyway, back to what might be considered my own form of manifestation - which I think needs to be spoken about like things are already happening and not something that you're planning; I will be talking about myself like she's in another world, will that hurt my chances of manifesting it into this life? Well shit, so do I actually have to embody it here. right now?

I am a writer, in a magazine - and since I've already started and studied Interior Design, I'm writing that. Possibly studying it more - fuck, I think I have to remove the word "possibly". I am a writer in a design magazine, I study and comment on design innovations and also am a set designer for experiential spaces. I am incredibly creative - and innovative and on the top of my game. I've started making covers again and shooting them, even producing them better. I've also been scouted again, this time with a better management and not just local. I'm meeting a lot of people that are as creative as I am and I've gotten out of my shell. I am confident and comfortable in my own skin. I am healthy, in mind and in body. My skin is great, I am glowing, I am beautiful. I am fit, I am strong, I am happy with my body. I am well connected, I live in abundance and I am not greedy. I live to be happy not to survive. I am able to provide for my family and I am able to live my life to the fullest without any regrets. My time is not wasted, and I am not afraid of failure. I believe that all things lead me to where I am supposed to be. And I am supposed to be great. I am great. I will be greater, I can only go up from here. I am valued, I am loved, I am sought. I am happy, I am kind and just. I am comfortable. I love my life.