wildpoise

Day 155 - Grief is strange the day after. Or maybe grief is always strange and I only notice it more clearly once the initial shock puts its purse down and starts settling into the furniture.

Day 154 - Today brought the kind of sadness that doesn’t arrive loudly. It just changes the air. A good friend passed today, my girlfriend’s mother, and even writing that feels strange and wrong in the way death always does. Like language should be stronger for moments like this and yet somehow it always arrives looking underdressed.

Day 153 - I’ve been thinking lately about the things that keep me alive.

Not in the dramatic “what is the meaning of life” sense, where everybody suddenly starts acting like grief automatically makes you wise and ethereal and very good at sitting near windows.

I mean practically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Like, what actually keeps me here when the day is heavy, the anger is clean, the disappointment tastes metallic, and my heart feels like it’s carrying more than any respectable organ should have to?

Day 152 - I think one of the cruelest things about pain is how quickly the burden shifts onto the hurt person. Not just emotionally. Structurally.

Day 151 - There are some things that should never become part of your life. Shopping for attorneys is one of them.

Day 150 - I’ve been thinking lately about beauty, which is a very dangerous topic if you’re me because I have exactly enough intelligence to make it complicated and exactly enough vanity to not pretend I’m above that complication. So let’s just tell the truth.

Day 149 - Some days I look around at this country and think: you are watching the wrong things. You are obsessed with the wrong bodies. The wrong fears. The wrong narratives. The wrong performances of danger.

Day 148 - I’ve been thinking lately about the cost of blending in. Because in some ways, I do. I move through the world and, for the most part, the world seems to accept what it sees. A woman. No pause. No correction. No visible confusion.

Day 147 - I keep coming back to those two words. Chaos. Grace. Not because they sound pretty together, though they do. Not because they make a nice aesthetic or a good tagline or some tidy little personal philosophy people can print on mugs and call it self-awareness.

Day 146 - Regret has layers. That’s what I’ve been sitting with today. Not the dramatic, one-note version. Not just “I wish that hadn’t happened,” though obviously yes, I do...