#diary text post

[fallenrustyangel]

The fact that my intuition my body knew what was up before my heart caught up to everything that he hid from me. I'm glad I didn't make him the center of my world and made him feel like he wasn't the only one because he had someone he still loved and was holding onto imagine how stupid I would have looked trying to fall in love with someone who was in love with someone else. And yet I'm sure in his eyes I'm the fucken villain.

[fallenrustyangel]

"Don’t confuse peace with boredom. When you’ve lived in survival mode long enough, calm can feel unfamiliar. But that’s exactly what healing looks like. Your body isn’t asking you to go back to chaos it wants consistency, safety, and people who don’t make you question your worth. Protect that. You’ve fought too hard to get here to hand your peace back to someone who hasn’t done the work themselves" -Enrique

Best advice I've ever gotten from a friend 😭🥲🥹

I love talking to Enrique he always gets me and he always validates my emotions and makes me feel so safe.

[fallenrustyangel]

I won't be able to remove you from my heart but I can control who I invest in and focus on. Everyone I've ever cared for or loved has a special place in my heart and I always wish them the best in life even if it isn't with me.

[bare-vincent]

5/9/24

Mid Morning

I cried on the floor last night for the first time in a long time because my job forces me to do such insidious things. “Insidious” really is the right word. I don’t design warheads or dump chemicals in fields. But I carve rivers for money to flow to the people who do. I smooth paths for men who use their annual raises on provisions for the IDF and I can’t get a good enough foothold to do a damn thing about it. I watch the capillaries branch and pool and burst and follow them to the end only to find blood on my own feet. I want so desperately to be good in a way that matters. It feels almost tacky now. As if the burning pit in my stomach isn’t fire but plastic rhinestones piled haphazardly on a single half-dead tea light. The flickering reds and oranges nothing more than an accidental party trick, throwing no real heat. And I am ashamed of it. There was a real fire there once, I promise. I can see the ash on my lungs, feel the scars carved behind my ribs, I still cough up kindling when I’m drunk on vodka sodas. I’ve begun doing little things to stave off the heat death looming within me. Joining the NLG and speaking more in rooms where it might matter. I tend to the sparks coming from the corroded batteries in that one little light. I brush away the synthetic glow I mistook for heat. I am 25. I remind myself. I am 25 and I am trying and there is still something real bubbling through my polyester veins.

[bare-vincent]

3/29/24

Almost midnight

I wish I hadn’t had so much wine tonight because the alcohol makes me honest and I was out to dinner with my parents. I felt myself dancing on my tongue and trying to come through but I can’t I can’t I can’t. She’s safe with me.

We go to find our wedding venue tomorrow. I love him. I hope our friends all move to Boston and we can drink as much as we want and I can hold them all close and go “see? Isn’t Back Bay lovely?” And fill their fridges with sauce and lasagna and giggle endlessly at their silly faces and stories. I miss them every minute we’re together.

[bare-vincent]

3/26/24

Morning

My hair smells like rosemary and I’m older now. I always am. I got more linen boards in the mail (larger sizes) and some small detail brushes. I went to Manhattan Friday to see Fall Out Boy in the fifth row of Madison Square Garden and get drunk and text everyone I knew when I was 15. We went upstate for a few days afterwards to stay with my friend’s aunt and bring home her grandmother’s table in a rented pickup truck. My fiancé’s best friend carried it up when we got back to Cambridge and we all went to dinner. These are the things that happen now. Being older and perfumed with $40 conditioner. I buy oil paints and drive home antique furniture with friends and this weekend I’ll host Easter dinner. And I am 25 on a good day. The rest of the time I am 14 and very confused about who I am. I review contracts and I cook dinner and I teach children how to paint over zoom. And it’s all wonderful in its own way, I think.

I have to clean blood from the sheets and even that doesn’t feel quite so terrible. Spring is coming.

[bare-vincent]

3/10/24

Guilt comes home and I realize it might never have left. I feel guilt for how I love. I’m too ravenous. Too hungry. Too desperate for the world. I need to feel it all. Does no one else feel it? How insane this life is? We have it once. And to want to kiss and fuck and love all I can is something shameful and strange. But I want to melt into everything. Let my edges dissolve. And I can’t and it kills me and I feel it inside me. A deep gnawing pit that comes homes. That lives here. That’s what it means to “come home”.

I remember being young (but not too young) and it was hot and sweaty and the feel of a man’s chest under a damp shirt. Feeling how warm he was. The heaving of his breath. I was done from that moment he crashed his lips on mine in the back corner of the hotel even as I sniffled through a cold. The pilot light flicked to life and I’ve been starving ever since.

[bare-vincent]

2/29/24

Do you ever get in bed just to realize you need to trim your nails and then everything feels wrong?

It’s midnight and I have meetings in the morning but the wind is flinging rain against the window so hard it sounds like glass. I went to a concert last night. Two Door Cinema Club with Joywave opening. I drank vodka sodas and went home at 10pm. I think if I can just be okay then everything will be okay.