To my friends against the recent anti-Trump protests…

To my friends against the recent anti-trump protests…
Let me first express how I think healthy discussion and debate is a right we should all be utilizing right now. It is important to discuss the many issues, fears and future plans of the country now more than ever. Now, to my letter:
I have heard many people express their annoyance and even disgust over the anti-trump protests that have popped up over the U.S. within the past week and a half…
As an NYC resident, I have firsthand experienced the implicit inclusivity in NYC and how it exists in our city more than in rural areas. In NYC, we have no choice but to be on top of each other and see what melting pot we live in. Problems like poverty and police violence or gun laws, or immigration directly affect all of us in NYC way more than those in smaller towns with less access to diversity. Because we are so diverse, we are the loud and opinionated minority of individuals who decided it was worth the effort to show the rest of the world we don’t like what our new president has planned for the country, which so far has led to protesting for the past week and a half.
An interesting summary from M. Huemer’s book, The Problem of Political Authority: An Examination of the Right to Coerce and the Duty to Obey:
There are four types of implicit consent which citizens can give their governments: passive consent, acceptance of benefits, consent through presence, and consent through participation. In this case, we have a large majority of people who voted for trump who are not racist or xenophobic, not misogynistic or islamaphobic, but instead are accepting the outcome of the U.S. government by way 1. of CONSENT through PRESENCE 2. as well as exhibiting PASSIVE CONSENT. Consent through presence is actually something we as citizens of the U.S. do not have control over…Ie being a U.S. citizen means paying your taxes, having a passport, keeping track of your identity within the state and so on. Because we must pay taxes and have other legal duties to the state, most of us must perform our consent through presence or else be legally persecuted/become a refugee. However, passive consent is a different story. PASSIVE CONSENT implies that citizens agree with their government because they do not oppose their government. This passivity hinges on the majority thinking their opinion will not matter in the long run. When a citizen gives passive consent to the government, this implies that the changes within the government would not affect the citizen in a detrimental way that will decrease their level of satisfaction and/or their personal life.


All that really means there is just a choice: you either stand for the community of the oppressed or you don’t. Protesting is just the CRUX of the embodiment of this American RIGHT, and I will say this again, if we don’t stand up and find our community of accepting and passionate individuals now, when the time comes to fight against the new laws Trump plans to put in place, we will lack the structure or maturity as a group to get the job done. So keep up the fight for racial/women’s/LGBTQIA equality, immigrant rights, the fight against global warming, for tighter regulation on banks, better gun control laws, and so on.
I’m honestly embarrassed to not have spoken up sooner, but it must be better to get active now than to stay silent.
TLDR; Active discussion/progression and an advocate for morality//over passive consent. I would love to discuss what we all can do as a next step (protesting can only get us so far!), so we can all come to a greater understanding of what it should mean to be a U.S. citizen.


When in NOLA, gain a drinking problem and become louder than you should be

Why go to NOLA this time?
Is it for clarity? Don’t think so…
This trip spawned out of a long-standing desire to tell a girl I’ve had a crush on for years now about my feeling for her (she happens to live in NOLA). I’m ready to say it, either to get it off my back or start something new. I am horny and confused and shameful and everything in between.
Turns out she is moving to NYC at the beginning of August. This obsession will either grow or finally release me. I have someone, a special someone as of a week ago. And I think I could really like her. The 180 feeling of finding someone I like who is a girl is that I feel incredibly dirty, less than. I cannot tell what this relationship will become, but my darkness is heavy and ashamed of itself again. My internalized homophobia makes me feel tainted with the word “waste” heavy on my tongue.

“Feeling filth in my skin cake and crust within like the dingy in the middle of an open ocean” I’m quoting myself I don’t know why I’m quoting myself in real time like it’s some song I’ve written or heard or something.

**Things synonymous with my anxiety and internalized homophobia: heavy, darkness, less than, road-side haunting, forgotten, wasteful


I got a nose ring and I think I look great with it. Let’s see if my job cares at all, hopefully not.


imagePlease someone shake me awake before it’s too late
All this insignificance builds up in my throat like it’s supposed to mean something
My arms shudder with waves of cold from my blood
Back in the hole again
Like Aristotle looking in
My mind will eat itself and make my body wish it were dead
Where is the meaning in it
My eyes are numb, I’ve snipped the chord connecting my eyes to my heart
But we still are here
And again
And again

If you need to know for sure what’s on the ocean’s floor, just sink.


One thing at a time… One thing at a time…

The tables have turned on me and my definition of love

The tables have turned on me and my definition of love

I am learning, I am learning what love means for different people

I observe the good and bad like the turtle wading through the still pond

I listen to my inner child throw the fearful fits and temper tantrums: “don’t go in there, it’s not safe, hold your breath, don’t make a move”

I find my stability in center, the midline between east and west and the point where above and below coincide.

I seek and embrace all of myself, 360 degrees, every angle, every inch.

I organize my perspective through calm and passionate curiosity, taking stock of how I have learned to survive over the years.

I support myself, and also give myself the permission to let go.

I give my spirit the invitation to dance in divine artistry, the soul’s garden.

I am open and flexible, yet strong and sturdy.

I relax into my intuition, the ANYA chakra, and breathe relaxation into all endeavors.

I keep the secret wealth of energy, my royalty with divine within, the crown I wear daily which sits atop my head. I must honor the connection it gives me to grand and supreme oneness that is bigger than man’s cultivated perception of meaning.


These are the truths I seek within, and I always come up from a soul-dive richer than before. I am not afraid of the truth; the truth is not afraid of me. Whatever will be will be.

Daily Astrology, this just in: white girls are emotional wrecks after the solar eclipse

No motivation. I want to scream.

I want to buy dishes at the dollar store. I want to smash them.

I want someone in my corner to hold me. Why do I feel so self-destructive? Why do I feel so depressed today?

Luke got angry at me today. I would call it a fight but it literally was just this anger for his job, but redirected at me.

I can’t be a victim of abuse again. I’ve been there for enough of my life. I won’t go back.

If this happens again, I may be out.

I won’t stand to be treated like an emotional rag doll. Manipulation. Depression. Aggression. Not my life.

I handle myself in a respectful manner and honor the needs of those around me. All the while, I respect if I need to take space because someone is disrespecting me. I do not have time on this precious earth for people to waste my time. I CANNOT suffocate like I did before with my dad’s abuse to my family, which I can address and fully understand now. Just from this one interaction I have a feeling there is more anger he is hiding underneath. More anger, waiting to come out. I just want him to show it to me, rather now than later. Just get it over with. I’d rather not waste time.

I am waiting for the other shoe to drop. I hope it doesn’t, because I’m too deep now to just give up on him. But I am waiting for the other shoe to inevitably drop.

I will conserve my energy. I don’t get talked to like this. This isn’t how it works.

Reclaiming My Voice

*After eating what can only be measured as a “fuck-ton” of cashews, I have decided the following: I am going to get hurt in this relationship I am in AND THAT’S OK, oh also I hate being full but eating numbs a lot of my current anxiety, and another thing.. I take on the habits of my lovers, and.. oh yeah, I want to write a few letters to people. This is the first of many…


Dear Jack,


I know a few things now. I know you and Mackenzie are incredibly happy together. I hope you are, though the darkest part of my mind hopes you still think of me. I know this isn’t fair. It’s my way of coping with the regret of letting you go too soon. I didn’t give us a chance. At the time, I had seen the relationship as an inconvenience in the midst of artistic creation. I had harbored bitterness towards you for making me take time away from my rituals, time away from art which had helped me decompress. I did not share my downtime with you– you were not in that deep level of my comfort zone yet. And when I say “yet” I mean there was a universe where I could have let you be in that comfort zone. Yes, it would have taken time. Yes, it would have been difficult and maybe uncomfortable. Would I lose sleep by being with you? Most definitely yes. But I also would have grown as a human being and as a lover. I was selfish because I did not take this leap with you, even though I honestly did love you. I was diagnosably, “not ready.”

I know now that I will never be ready for the love that comes into my life. I will not be ready to “settle down” or have kids, I won’t even be ready to make major life-altering career decisions I have worked towards for upwards of my entire adult life.


C’est la vie.

C’est belle et folle au meme.

The manual never comes.

You just have a gut and your perception

Ruddering your course.


I know this now, but it is too late to relay my wisdom to you. And a lot of why I am writing this letter probably has less to do with you, and more to do with my association with relationships. So maybe I should say thank you, because even from afar you’ve taught me a lot. Breaking up with you meant I learned a lesson about my personal values and goals around relationships. Or should I say real-lationships.

Where does a woman’s voice go when she travels alongside a man?

In my personal experience, the woman retreats within herself. No one physically forced her to do so. Then why? Why does she cage herself? Is it because she can decorate the walls of her cell so that she feels it is like freedom? Is voicing a conflict sure death as it ultimately causes relationships to fail? <–this is an all-or-nothing statement, this is not true, I will keep telling myself until I deeply believe it. Still currently en route to Point B in this.

But I have to try. Try to get better about voicing my opinions, try to keep having opinions. I want to have at least 50 opinions a day. I’ve been too easy, too safe, forgiving of others’ ideas and flaws that differ from my own because I’ve thought “what’s the use” or “this won’t end well.” I long to feel safe in the word I speak. I want to grow into my voice. I want to love with abandon and that also means being able to abandon my love for the sake of self-love if need be. That means conflict. The wall I was unable to break down for you, Jack, I now have to work on with the new love in my life, Luke. This is a second chance at working towards happiness.

Symbolically I am on the precipice of a new start. 8 months in and mostly very happy, we mostly are confronted with a unique need for one another. My love for Luke overtakes me with its reckoning force, yet the same love makes me feel such guilt. Why? I harbor guilt for not doing enough in my creative life, for not seeing my friends enough, for not seeing Luke enough…sometimes all before breakfast. The guilt is my unconscious mind’s way of saying “you need more time in the day, or you need to make changes to the way you spend your time.” We’ve talked about our dependency on each other a few times to no avail, so I am unsure how to move forward from it at the moment. This infatuation with Luke is relatively new territory, and yet I can feel myself losing steam quickly while under the pressure of such a boyfriend-heavy schedule.

I need to constantly relearn to ask for what I want. I need to recite the mantras that banish fear, that foster safe growth, that endorse the creative spirit in me. That means loving deeply and coming up for air when need be.

This is maybe what you taught me most, Jack. Thank you for the lessons. I am really grateful for how much our relationship taught me. I truly wish we could be friends, but I know in my heart of hearts I wouldn’t be able to just “be friends.” I would want to tell you what I am writing right now, because I’d want to know what you think. I wish I could, but again, I think that time has passed.


Distinguished rapture

Today, my heart hurts with the pain of a memory I have yet to recollect. The burrowing stings like winter in the silence of 3am, or the fall as stale leaves crunch underfoot. It is a desperation for harmony, oh sweet word! Dull sack full of thought, hands behind me pondering about the sun. Thick scar of my flesh, my poor dormant heart, learned of agony knowing I cannot find you through the layers and stacks of skin, it is a heavy spirit lives in shadows. There is no respite despite counterfeit respiration, no breath deep enough reaching the pit to help my heart up. My love. Unearthed by a foolish child who plucked the sweetly growing daffodil under repercussive moons. And when I say moons, I mean days. And when I say days, I mean lifetimes of samsara that were unearthed in that one single weed. Scars that know no memory. Memories like bubbles, hollow with a coating feeling surrounding it, taking up space without purpose except to expose the nothingness inside, a shadow. And when I say shadow, I mean the things you know are there but don’t want to tell yourself. Lies. Hard to say, even harder to listen to. I have a light inside me waiting to come out. Stifled by a memory I do not know, fuzzy hazy thought holding me out of reach from the sun like the daffodil that was still growing before it got plucked by the child who did not know things could grow in the first place. 


Training my hands not to move, blue-faced transparency, cold clinical forethought, long-term commitment to keeping my mouth shut. Is this womanhood? Is this rehearsal or the real thing?

Gone, be back in an hour


I saw your emails

The well-hung

The 6-7 inches

Of your penis

Craigslist emails

Responding to thick older women

Your fetish

You were 19, or maybe

20. I’m not sure because you kept

flipping in between two ages in

your messages

The Danielle emails

Why did I need to read them, too

Why did I

keep reading

Twisting a screw deep inside my chest

Long and thick

After you fucked me this morning

Or maybe I fucked you

Since you were resting on your back

Recently, I can’t stop listening

to the Beatles

But everyone loves the Beatles


I’m listening to a well-crafted record

That’s never been harshly handled before

That has a fetish for older women

Your hunger is insatiable, and I am nervous one day I will not be able to

Keep up to please


It feels like I am your next pawn

I am just waiting for the pin to drop

I am the next unassuming Danielle, soon heart-broken, unaware

You told her you’d marry her too, you told me you did.

But you never truly believed you would actually do it.

Then why did

you say it

This game of love is a troubling one, and I see how you play

You lure the kind girls in and make them feel safe

And then you leave them helpless







Maybe it’s the way the memories mesh together into one mess, or the fact that we aren’t together anymore, but your eyes make me want to cry.

Like a sad love song that never was, would you choose me if I never hurt you? Would you still be with me if I never hurt you? I will never know. Only desire//Burning desire//The flames that lick me all over.

I don’t want to feel this desire, I am ashamed, I broke up with YOU. My pride will keep me from ever telling you these feelings linger on. How would I win you back? And would I want you back when I won you back? You’re a shell of a memory to my sex dream archive. Why do I want your body? I don’t want to want your body. And I have someone I am mad with desire about…let me go, jealousy//ft fantasy. I do not trust you to lead me to proper judgement.

This feeling does not go away, I will push it away. I will actively will it away. What I do not want. I do not want. NO NO NO. I have a good thing going, and a photograph on social media is an impostor’s portrait. We can only trust what is in front of us. And I have beauty in front of me, minor illusion.

Leave me be, leave me be, leave me be, unwanted thoughts. I write to forget. I write to purge.

haven’t written in a while

I sit here in front of this computer, trying to wring out my thoughts so as to clean my dirty lazy mind of the muck and cobwebs its accumulated in the past months. Self-maintenance is, in my opinion, next to Godliness. There is nothing more powerful we can do but control our own mind, and the way in which we harness time, effort, and self-awareness.


Am I becoming a robot? Do I seem cold to you? I seem to have less and less people around me to bounce ideas off of. I have forsaken a lot of free time with friends to hang with one friend, my boyfriend, whom I have been with for the past four months. I haven’t been apart from him for more than two days at a time since we began dating, and we rarely see each other less than 5 days a week. In short, we are inseparable. However, recently, I’ve been feeling this sudden and distinct pang of anxiety about us. It started as a whisper, when we had our first “fight”. I use quotation marks because our “fight” was basically just both of us getting quiet and serious with one another, and then subsequently talking out what exactly got on our nerves until we felt better.


He’s always been good with communication. That’s probably one of my favorite things about him—he’s emotionally mature and also incredibly self-aware. However, recently we’ve pushed each other’s buttons by giving away too much information about previous relationships which may have set off some uneasy feelings about one another. There have been new moments within the day where I’ve been guilty for things I’d never have thought I’d need to explain to someone: “We tried anal sex,” or “I’ve dated and had sex with women” suddenly seem like they could be perceived as shameful, though he has been fairly accepting up to this point.


What could be influencing the anxiety is where things get tricky. It’s very hard to say where or when the feeling arises. No denying it does, and when the anxiety kicks in, it’s hard to let go of it or to accomplish much of anything. I want to just spiral into a ball of darkness, existing in the pit of despair I knew so well at my darkest hour of suffering. It’s strange how the body can recall feelings once it’s made a file on it. This feeling can be labeled: depressed. And I don’t HATE feeling depressed perhaps, but I do feel guilty about my depression when it dictates my behavior.


I am probing myself because I need to be in certain communication with myself about how I feel about things. I deserve to be in “the know” about my own reality, and not just a passenger in my own life.


That being said, I wish I had more testosterone. I was listening to “This American Life” today, and the most recent podcast explored the different relationships people can have with testosterone. One person, without the ability to create testosterone, and how it changed his perception on things, and another, a transgender male and his transition using T. Overall, the reaction to testosterone is that the hormone makes people feel more gutsy, confident, ready to take risks. It’s easy to get down on yourself about not trying hard enough or not reaching your goals, but what if you had the gall to reach your goals without the extra daily internal struggle?


I fight with myself about confidence daily, in little ways. I hate to admit it but I am not at the heart of who I am a confident person. I always feel at risk for losing my voice, and because of this I seldom jump into situations where I could be misrepresented or misjudged. In short, I don’t take as many risks, and I lose out on a lot of possibilities because of it.


I am a cowardly person. But I can’t stop going, or else I’ll lose everything I’ve ever created for myself. And I want to be happy. So badly, I want everything to fall into place and always be there for me. At the end of the day, I know it will all eventually go away, so I brace myself for the let down. In the meantime, I guess I need to remind myself to enjoy the ride. This moment will eventually leave us, me, whoever the fuck stumbled upon this delete-able content, and we can never hold onto the things we love the most. That’s for certain. So why not take stock of the inevitable while we’re here investing time in emotional balance?


Higher mind: I will lose everything eventually. I understand the finality of all the things I enjoy and have come to love. Therefore, when they eventually leave me, I am not shocked or hurt, but I look back on the lessons learned from the thing or person I loved and can only express a sigh of relief in knowing the time spent with that thing or person was legitimate and did in fact happen.


Aggressive earthly mind: Go for what you need, need what you love, this is where you design your life and your ambition belongs in the way you interact with the people you care about most. You need to fight for the people you care about. Know your worth, and never lose focus on what you want. Don’t trust fall into the abyss of “everything will eventually leave me” because then you’ll have no one at all to have leave you, for lack of not trying anything risky at all.


I haven’t been myself recently. Or maybe I have, and this is where the real work begins…I don’t want to lose out on this opportunity, not this time. This guy is too good to lose, and I can’t give up on him, or myself for that matter. We both deserve happiness, and my fight against my anxiety is something I’ll have to learn to fight and breathe through for the rest of my life. I really hope I can get over whatever emotional rut I feel I’ve been in recently. Luckily, this writing helps. It’s a relief to be able to create something cohesive which sounds and feels inexplicably real, and at its deepest truth, this is who I am.


tldr; A glimpse into the mind of someone who is constantly checking in with himself or herself, aka me.