better than firewhiskey

blurry. messy. trying.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

First world problem I never thought I’d have: trying to make my tongue attempt to roll an ‘r’ instead of my brain clocking I’m not reading English and defaulting to the French guttural ‘r’, which is closer to ‘x’ here.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

Spoke too soon; I’ve just met my first Russian diphthong and this is worse.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

First world problem I never thought I’d have: trying to make my tongue attempt to roll an ‘r’ instead of my brain clocking I’m not reading English and defaulting to the French guttural ‘r’, which is closer to ‘x’ here.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

I’ve now been verbally gendered as male by strangers twice ever, both specifically when I’ve had a same-day fresh haircut. I really don’t know how I actually feel about this, other than curious. I like dressing masc obviously but I’ve never seriously considered attempting to pass as male without T, even as an experiment, because I get the sense that the intrinsic way I hold my body is really extremely clockable as female. So it’s surprising to me that a stranger could look at me in public and I guess just go “short hair = guy”…?

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

I haven’t really been thinking about it at all to be honest but now I’m thinking about “I’ll be 87 you’ll be 89” and “you’ll do things greater than dating the boy on the football team” and “I sneak out to the garden to see you” and “chose the rose garden over madison square” and “something was born on the fourth of July” and “happy independence day, see you tonight Kansas City” like imagine the red string of fate personally rewriting the prophecy for you???

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

But I can't diagnose you with [*] based on some blood tests. I can only recommend not doing things that make you miserable.

Whatever you are, it's going to be alright. There is a happy life ahead of you outside of the hetero normative narrative you've been fed until now.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

she’s gonna save me, call me baby, run her hands through my hair

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

What stage of grief is ignoring your texts and sitting at your desk crying but continuing to work because you might as well be useful when you feel so much like this

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

20-something-dom and chronic mental illness is really just dragging your body from one obligation to the next and intermittently going to sleep better for it before you wake up and remember you gotta do it again forever. Eating, exercising, caring, working, sleeping. And some days you feel the truth of it being worth it and some days you just have to tell yourself it is.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

The truth is like blood underneath your fingernails

And you don’t wanna hurt yourself

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

You will never (never never never) catch me speculating about real public figures’ private lives or, gd forbid, their private relationships. HOWEVER, I have gotten so deep into NHL that I’ve been exposed to whatever the hell McDavid and Draisaitl and their partners-who-are-also-best-friends have going on with their houses that are next door to each other and their joint honeymoon… and it’s all been entirely against my will.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

My fave tags of late include “You Know What Fuck You (Un-forces Your Proximity)” and “To Be Loved Is To Be Changed (You Are Sometimes Dragged Kicking And Screaming Towards That Change)”

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

it ain’t the empty home baby / you know I’m good on my own / it’s more the being unknown

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

I don’t know if I’m hangry or sleep-deprived or just disillusioned or actively depressed but I am teetering on the fucking edge this week

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

Getting my period outside of the quarterly schedule and immediately crashing out and taking excess pill dosages because what the FUCK and also this is NOT aligned with my desire for slav fuckboy energy

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

Never thought I’d be this pleased to go to bed drunk, knowing I’m going to get like 6 hours’ sleep before I need to physically go to the office

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

Showing up to the vet for my cat’s annuals with cuts and bruises all over my legs, then he proceeds to be a perfect angel baby for the (admittedly incredible) vet. Average parent experience.

[lets-pretend-i-exist]

I really wish I had (and I can’t stress this enough) Slav fuckboy energy. Pretty sure I’m saddled with soft baby wlw energy unless I go on T or become a gymrat.

Been committing more to offseason exercise lately; pushing myself through laps six days this week. Except the black line syndrome is just “dorito body” on loop like a Bloody M*ry chant. At least I think the increased exercise is finally breaking through the eternal fog of my possibly-chronic eating disorder because I’m constantly just fucking hungry now… so I be eating.