Happy Valentine's Day!

On this most love af day of the year, I'm spending time with my favorite forever sweetheart. That ultimate f-buddy (that's fried btw) and best hug giver—the one who's always showed up: Food. 

My crime companion.
Vertigo canyon.
Sizzling abandon.
Too juicy to dry run.
Thirst quencher and then some.
Tie it undone.
Glowing inner handsome.
Shaking hard for big ones.
This beat's an incision. 
Made my decision.

Honestly though, I really hope I have someone to spend the day with by this time next year. Even chronically single people deserve a bone or special experience every five years or so.

Check yourself,

before you deck yourself.

Believe in yourself.

Balloon squeaks for health.

Slam shut the self.

Oh well,

no wealth.

Ceased wanting,

bad smell.

Got excited,

won't dwell.

Write to relax?

It's doomed,

that's a fact.
Or peel off,

make tracks.

OM-Genius,

step back.

Stuffy nose,

is where it's at.

I forgive myself for the fictitious mistakes I made today which exist only in my head.

On my mind all night,

woke up with a dish in sight.

Now,

as it sits here on my desk.

I can't help wonder,

I don't even need it.

Like,

should I even eat it?

Or is there something deeper inside,

crying out to feed it?

I’m so disoriented on what day and time it is right now.

How is it past 3am already? Well, at least it’s still the weekend.

I'm very in my thoughts and feelings today. Actually, I'm not sure how to feel... so I ate a whole bunch of crap food and overthought about everything of course. This perpetual state of being stuck lingers. I want to step over to the other side, but like where and how the fuck do I do that.

The only property I own is the space I rent out in my head.

Whenever anyone tells me they’re sleeping well right now, I can’t help but feel jealousy and wonder.

I think hearing the blaring sirens of cop cars, firetrucks, and ambulances constantly all damn day and night since March, on top of motorcycles, horns honking, and engines revving from my street is starting to get to me...

After spending a massive amount of time on the opening sentence of an article, checking the word count to see how much more you still have to go feels quite futile.

"It costs a lot of money to look this cheap."

Said by Dolly Parton.

Lately, I've been thinking about this quote a lot because it's so damn relatable when it comes to writing. 

Like, my gosh, I'll look at some paragraph or blurb I wrote for work and find it unbelievable that it took hours upon hours to get it that way. But when it comes down to it, I'm usually able to get my writing to say exactly what I want it to in the way I want it to, so the end result is satisfying.

The cold side of the pillow,

listening to chill 90s Korean music,

been so tired all day,

slept only a few hours yesterday,

but in bed right now,

feeling dread,

if I lived alone,

I’d probably just start getting tanked,

or uncomfortably full,

good thing I’m not,

because it’ll wake the roomie, 

I hate having to use the bathroom at night,

small apartment,

big anxiety,

sirens nonstop,

I refuse to rot,

keep thinking dumb shit,

gonna pop,

it’s past 3 now,

horns on the avenue still honk,

people yelling on the street,

I wonder who else is up,

with similar thoughts.

There are moments when my mind wanders, and I can get teary-eyed at the turn of a thought.

It really sucks when the only pseudo human interaction you had in your entire day was a video call that left you feeling like shit.

I know that doomscrolling through my phone late at night is really bad, but here I am.

All I do at home is lie on my stomach in bed and watch 50 minutes videos of people eating bomb ass food in Korea.

The election is only weeks away. On top of everything that's been happening in the world and in my life, I have this lingering anxiety from not knowing how I can deal with another four years of this administration if they win again. Shit is so fucked up right now because of them. I am mentally drained, exhausted, and tell myself to keep pushing on. But another part of me wants to eat in bed and tune everything out. I feel like soon after Trump was elected four years ago, dysfunction became normalized. And his absolute lack of competence and the onset of COVID-19 has just compounded that, on top of Americans having to contend with basically everything we see on the news on a daily basis along with all of fucked up racism Black people and other minorities in this country face. Seven months of staying home and quarantining with a recent uptick in cases all over America has made life feel like this never-ending cycle of hopelessness. There are days and moments where things might feel okay, but when it comes down to it, this pandemic is still happening—and as of now, 220,000 Americans have died because of it and over 8 million have contracted COVID-19. It's like, how does one even process this without breaking down into tears? We are living in a crisis. I am numb at this point and try and force myself to forge on with my days, but I have my moments. This continuous feeling of isolation and loneliness sometimes feels like too much. I mean, I definitely only felt the warmth of another body on my skin a handful of times in the past few years, but dealing with this same problem throughout 2020 definitely feels extra difficult. Whenever I am actually faced with (or allow myself to) to grasp the realities of right now or how life was before COVID-19, I can't help but shed tears from despair. I woke up today remembering the day after the 2016 election. I won't ever forget it because going to work that morning, it wasn't just me who was in shock. I remember getting on the subway and it was complete silence and stillness, even though the train was filled with people. In all of my life of living in NYC, it was a remarkable sight to see. Nobody was talking, nobody was staring into their phones, nobody was doing anything. Everyone just seemed paralyzed in a sense, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Just the thought of having to relive that trauma again feels overwhelming. I just want to make it through the rest of October, period. I'm not aiming to achieve or accomplish anything. All I want is to get through it as best as I can.

It is 

(so)

much

easier,

to talk this way.

Life is all about editing. So rewrite the story from the shitty version the voice in your head came up with.