fingers flying

here you'll find me.

[lightfilledcorners]

Stop and Stare 2.2.26

I'm not brave enough to write what I really think; What I really feel.

The backspace key is all too familiar: Less permanent than inky confessions In ninth grade journals. I'm 34 years old and my heart aches: Thumps and wavers across the stethoscope Of my own palm as I press down-- Hard. I'm still here, still bleeding, still breathing. But sometimes I wonder: am I a ghost haunting My own memories? The nostalgia is so powerful-- I can smell your hoodie and feel it pulled over the heels of my hands. I can hear your playlists stuffed into my ears when we traded Whole ipods for a week.

"I want to know what you sound like."

That was the choice of the weak -- the angst I cannot quite escape. He didn't love me; but didn't he love me? The most romantic shit that has ever been done to me or done for me? Was done by a boy who would never admit more than "I want you to be the godmother of my children" and who saved money for a trip that never materialized.

And my future? Put on hold. And my heart? Frozen in time.

Now I don't even know your name anymore. It feels funny in my mouth. When I see your jersey number or hear the syllables uttered In conversation, in reference to someone else, Or hear one of the songs, I have a momentary stutter step in my mind.

1,000 free throws every Saturday -- And I'm pumping my feet towards the sky, jumping off and Whispering my regrets.

I'm going to lose sleep and it is January 2026.

I haven't spoken to you in over a decade.

Regurgitate. Meditate. Self-flagellate all over again.

[lightfilledcorners]

“Enough” (15.12.25)

It’s the ache —  Of up-too-late 3 am studying: “I didn’t fail, but I didn’t ace it.” And so I said:  “Just have to embrace it.” This is what it means to be A teacher, not a friend: All these teachable moments  End to end to end.

But these 11 year olds are now 17, And I’ve suddenly realized That I’m growing older like they’re Growing older and I’m getting  Colder and colder at the idea Of not seeing their faces every day. It’s just a short year away. Nobody told me when I became a teacher That the love that would be loudest Would be the quiet way I watch them take a final, Writing hurriedly, brows furrowed, eyes focused, pen Dashing across the page in slanted lines. Or the laughter between discussions and the tears, At the shared stories of “I’m not sure if my dad even Loves me or if he just provides for me because I’m the luck of the draw.”  You stare into their faces and you want to tell them, How much the break-ups and the tests failed and the gossip, How none of it will matter in a decade, But you remember what it felt like when you were 17. Like the sun just wouldn’t keep rising.  So you say, instead: “I know. Keep going.” And, “God loves you.” I love you. 

But is it enough? Please, God, let it be enough. Let their hearts be sure and strong — Each conversation putting roots down and truth abounding To echo back later when they’re sitting in the dark, And they aren’t sure where to go. Let it be enough.

I may never get to be a mom, pack the lunches, cheer for the games, Or go to parent-teacher conferences on the other side of the table.

But let it be enough that I crack my heart open each and every August And let them slip in, scuffing the floors and moving the furniture Letting them spill and make a mess Of me. 

God, let it be enough.  God, let it be enough. 

[lightfilledcorners]

I cried myself to sleep last night. I have nowhere secret to write this except my actual diary. I already wrote it there this morning. And now it is 11:26 am and I am watching my 16 year olds do their assignments, and I'm thinking to myself, you don't know that I cried my 33 year old self to sleep last night. I've been alive twice as long (and then some) as you, and I still start sobbing randomly when a video pops up on my feed that I'm not prepared to see (people in love lately are very triggering), so who am I to teach you about life? I have yet to know what I'm doing myself. I have to be normal as I sit here, but in reality I want to scream and cry and go home to my bed. For the first time I though today, "maybe I am depressed after all."

"What do you want to do for you birthday this year?" "I don't think anything"

"What?? Are you secretly depressed and not telling me?? You love your birthday!"

And it's true, I normally love to celebrate my birthday. Gathering people and eating cake and carrying balloons in public, but this year I feel so stuck and so behind and the 34 looms too large to laugh. I want to slip under the covers and sleep for a week, and I haven't felt that way in a long time. So, maybe I was secretly depressed and not even telling myself until a couple of days ago. But, I don't want to be.

I want to snap out of it. I don't want to be a bitter old lady, angry at the years marching by when the days are so good. What right have I to be sad? Just because I'm still single. Still here. Feeling left behind and unprioritized.

C'est la vie, n'est-ce pas?

[lightfilledcorners]

"You know, in Korea, they say that a drastic haircut is a sign of a broken heart"

A mom of one of the graduating seniors laughs as she gestures to my new haircut, "I like it." I shrug and laugh along, "what can I say, my heart is always getting broken my teenagers."

This time is worse than it has been in a long while though, and I find myself fighting tears at odd moments of the day, when it shouldn't even matter. It isn't just the class of 2025 that has me so very deep in my feelings. Saying goodbye to kids that I feel deep in my bloodstream as though they are my own (though I'm not really allowed to say it), hurts in a way I don't know how to explain.

I'm not a biological mom, and I might not ever get to be one, but the wide open way I hold the door to my heart sometimes has some dire consequences.

I remember watching the anxiety creep up the twitchy hands of the middle schooler, unable to fully articulate himself, but I could see he was drowning and triggered all at the same time. If only I could help. If only he would ask. And then he did. And it worked. But it got complicated and things are left hanging now. But my heart still aches for this little brother.

I remember hearing her small voice saying, "I don't think my problems are big enough to talk about" as her lip quivered and she wasn't too sure she should even say that sentence out loud. But over time she grew in boldness.

I don't know. There's been a lot of kids I've loved and invested in over the years, but this week hurts more. I don't really know how to express it. I'm scared of my emotions. I'm scared of goodbye, for the first time in a long time.

[dailyflicks]

NEW GIRL 1.12: The Landlord

[nick-nellson]

The Princess Bride (1987) dir. Rob Reiner

[seaweedandgravel]

[mermen]

add another clove of garlic im not driving

[lightfilledcorners]

Sunday 🤍

[feral-ballad]

people will be like “don’t worry it’s all in your head!” like babe… yes… that’s the problem… how do i get it out of there…

[tswiftw]

my favorites pics of 'the eras tour' ♡

[lightfilledcorners]

I went to the era’s tour this weekend a year ago. 🥹🥹🥹 I miss it.

[avasillva]

#mood

[taylorswifts13]

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

[lightfilledcorners]

lol this color was the wrong choice but look at my asssssss hahahaha

[lightfilledcorners]

Sometimes I get these panic attacks where everything is screaming really fast in my brain but everything around me seems to slow down to the speed of honey coming out of a jar. Sometimes there's a second super slow voice in my head too. Today during first block, my students are working, and suddenly I feel the voices coming on - loud and fast, and slow and scary. Why? No real triggers.

I'm just so so sad. And being here on this planet feels so hard. I don't know how to express it to anyone without making them feel scared. I think I may make them feel scared with what my brain is thinking. I'm thinking I'd rather not live another five years, or even one. I have no plans, and I don't think I would ever, because I'm too much of a rule follower, but I can't help but feel that my own life and brain feels too heavy to carry. Despite the fact that I keep trying to do all the right things, I feel incapable of climbing up out of this pit. I am so fucking depressed. I don't feel like I have safe people to talk to about it. I want to run away from my life. I want to vacate my life. But then I think of how much pain it would cause others. How much damage it would do to others for me to give up, and I know I can't do that. But I feel so on the precipice in some moments.

And here I'm just screaming into the void and no one is listening. This used to be a place where someone would see. No one sees me anymore. I'm scared. I need to go see the psychiatrist. But I don't want to. I don't want to. I'm scared.

[rogers-carter]

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE 2005 | dir. Joe Wright

[existential-celestial]

“I remember you. You were made of light.”

— Maria Eugenia Calderara, from Poems of Exile; “I Still Don’t Know Your Name,“