winters suffocating grasp

26 March, 2025

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> i finally took those pictures of myself. i do not totally hate them, i even used one as a reference for a self portrait.

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> my friends cat had a liter of kittens !!

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> woke late today. walked to the studio with my headphones blasting and hoping no one would talk to me. writing with a fountain pen that reminds me of a time when i was lost, disconnected and rotting. when i first touched this pen i imagined writing my future into existence with it. the future became my present and still life is not as i wished it.
> i thought i would take wonderful care of the pen as a way to thank the craftsman for his work. i refused to use it until i had fled from home and could write about the life i yearned for. when the nib hit paper for the first time i was too rough and broke it. now it only writes upside down. nothing goes the way i think it will.

> when i moved away from home i prefer to think that i was running toward something and not away. leaving home was going to be my salvation, it was going to allow me to create without restriction or fear. now a new fear haunts me: am i enough?
> is authorship possible? could i support myself in this capitalist hellscape with the money i make from my creativity? do people value my words? will i be able to continue writing full time? what if my very best isn’t enough and i have to rely on a traditional job to live? i don’t know if i could survive a future like that.

> i am always wanting more than i have, wishing and waiting for the perfect time, the perfect me. such a waste.

> i had hoped to leave certain things behind when i ran. forgetting to shower, ignoring my toothbrush, blood where there should not be.
> i attempted to flee reality and sink into a personal paracosm.
> i expected all my problems to magically disappear, i thought i could leave decades of trauma in my home country. i wanted to escape all the nastiness of my life and create a new one, but all my demons followed me here. they’ve made their home in my skull and yank me around on a chain of fear and misbelief. all my old self destructive behaviors itching in the back on my brain. an old dog forced to learn new tricks.

> i have never fared well in winter. i want to blame all bad things on seasonal depression, everything a product of the freeze. but then what excuse would i use come spring if all this hurt doesn’t disappear?
> of course there have been a few good things; a couple friends, a handful of parties, walks around the neighborhood under the cold black sky. at least here i can see the stars.
> mostly though it’s been hugging my knees on the shower floor, washing myself with salt water. tongue tied one sided conversations. spending too much time in my head.

> woke from a dream. i was offered a do over. a man who looked almost like my father, who could’ve been an older version of me, motioned toward a portal of pure light. i could begin anew, a life without any time wasted. i knew somehow, even as i wished and yearned for it, that i did not truly desire a new beginning.
> instead of walking into a new reality i took my own hand and told him what we meant to say, “i don’t need to fix anything or go back and redo. i want what is real, what is now. i can still do everything i want to in this life, and i must, i will.”
> he nodded once and i was back in a high school memory. nothing has been a mistake. we are who we are because of lived experience. everything we need is already within us.

> winter is a conspirator of sadness, but it is only i who prevent my own happiness.
> i will escape this liminal space i stumbled into. mother and father need me to keep moving forward. i will show them they needn’t feel guilty for birthing and breaking me. i will show myself life is worth living. i will show my younger brothers that it’s possible to be happy.
> i will deny myself the satisfaction of watching my life fall apart. i will learn to trust goodness.

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じしˍ,)ノ... goodbye!