#freyarants

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

turns out, the concept of soulmates is a hoax. there is no such thing as soulmates and the countless semi-romance books that i have read when i was a gullible teenager have all lied to me. how come i was stupid enough to believe cassandra clare and the idea of an intensely passionate love she sold in her works. have you seen cassandra clare? she wrote unrealistic shit like that for a reason. i don’t think she has ever experienced a love as powerful as the one she made her characters go through. perfect people like will herondale and jem carstairs don’t exist, and i am certainly no half-angel half-infernal creature slash chosen one like tessa gray to deserve not even one but two opportunities at a relationship so loyal and dedicated. i have stayed delusional for way too long. it’s a miracle that i am getting struck by the harsh reality as late as 23 years old.

march 1, '23

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

it’s the third day since our online classes started and i’m still finding it hard to adjust to this new normal routine of learning and studying. i have been physically unwell ever since the pandemic hit the country and forced everyone to stay in their homes in fear of getting the disease. i cannot do certain things that i was previously capable of executing so it’s hard for me to focus attentively during virtual discussions or take notes for after-lecture reviews. there’s also the issue with internet connectivity so, honestly, i’m not expecting much for this semester. i have decided to not get my hopes up regarding my grades ‘cause there’s always the possibility of something going wrong and i would be completely helpless about it. that is not to say that i would no longer do my best or exert any considerable effort but i’m trying to be less high-strung about matters that i have no control over. having said that, i should really get started on my phil lit theory & criticism diagnostic activity.

- 19th of august, 2020

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

the more i am told that long hair suits me better the more i want to cut it really really short because:

1) i have little desire to conform to what is expected of me, especially by cisheteronormative standards

2) i am convinced that straight men prefer women with longer hairstyles and the last thing i want is for them to find me even a bit attractive because the next thing you know they will attempt to muster all the audacity available in the world and disturb my peace by greeting me a "hi " out of nowhere which, for some reason, irks me to the core, ruining my relatively good mood for the rest of the day

3) i am inclined to prove your opinion wrong and make you believe that i look absolutely astonishing even when my locks are three inches long

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

to be honest, i would rather have ppl assume that i've officially renounced all my attraction to the opposite gender. to admit that i am still capable of being swayed by their charms, i find it to be extremely embarrassing. also, i figured out that it's a good enough reason for their kind to leave me alone, considering most of them do not possess the visuals that i am looking for anyway. however, i think the desire to be perceived as completely uninterested in men is merely another manifestation of the internalized biphobia that i have long been struggling with. i can not say that i am very proud of that either.

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

probably the reason why i have a hard time constructing poems is because i always want for it to rhyme. i know that they don't necessarily have to and there are plenty of poems out there that prove it somehow still works perfectly but i couldn't quite appreciate a poem enough if it doesn't deliver a sweet melody to my ears. so i always want mine to rhyme. but then again, i'm terrible at coming up with same-sounded words to bring a passionate end to a line. so, i don't really write poems that much.

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

i do not fear winking out of existence and never seeing the light of day again, i just fear this happening at the wrong state and at the wrong time

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

my feelings are so confusing that even i cannot sort them out and put them in boxes with specific labels and make them stay like that for a while so i could carefully study each and every one of them because they're constantly shifting and running around my head and it's frustrating because i feel like i need to classify and organize them but i can't

[tales-of-a-literary-sapphic]

I’m sick of my current self. I don’t want to be this person that I’ve become anymore. I want to change. I don’t know exactly what kind of change I’m craving for. But I desperately want it now. I’m tired. So, so tired of being in this body, in this head. I’m drained. Devoid of happiness. I want to escape. To get away from myself. But that’s physically impossible. You cannot just detach yourself from your body and obtain a new one. And even if you do, you still take your thoughts with you. The things that you really need to run away from. I just don’t know anymore. I can’t think straight. I’m really really exhausted. Mentally and emotionally. I need help.