I’ve wrote you many love letters and I’ll write you many more.

I’ve done dumber shit for love.

Motherly

Everyone’s always told me I’d be a great mother, but the thing is I don’t ever want to have kids. So I just take care of and over love everyone around me. Even strangers and sometimes that takes a toll on me emotionally.

Here’s the thing, I met my next person. The one who could destroy my heart or fill me to the top with love. It’s weird to know these things. I knew it with Scott. I knew it with Langford. Right away I just knew. I know it again. The difference is this person communicates in ways I do & it’s amazing but my brain keeps telling me it’s all a lie. But how could it be? Why would someone lie about thinking you’re great or that they’ve had a lovely time with you?

Part of taking care of people in my life includes showing up to someone’s house at 2:30 in the morning because they’re having an anxiety attack & just need to be held. & they’ve never been the little spoon but there I am in my pajamas to hold them tight. & it’s scary & it’s easy & you both know maybe this wasn’t the way you were suppose to meet but you did. & the next morning you wake up to the sound of the ocean and you’re holding this person & they’re holding one of their cats and the other cat is asleep between your legs & you can’t put into words how it makes you feel but it makes you feel a lot. So much so that you both take off your clothes and hold onto each other so tight that you dig your nails in.

My back has bruises as the evidence that we both felt something so much that we had to be that close. Only the condom broke and for the first time in my life I’m not on birth control. & he says “this is the worst outcome, it’s only uphill for us.” I took plan b. I dyed my hair. It I haven’t cried yet even though I need to. & he keeps telling me that I’m great and that he’s enjoyed the time spent with me. I keep fearing that he’s just going to disappear because why wouldn’t he? & yet.

It’s easy to take care of everyone you love. It’s easy to. Be motherly until it’s an actual possibility.

Sometimes you let a complete stranger slap you across the face when they’re fucking you. & sometimes after the 4th time fucking you they sob for a long time about a girl with the same name as you. & you realize you shouldn’t mention that they said “I love you” a few times while half asleep. & then you have them fuck you again. And again. & they call you the void & that seems fitting enough. Because you want nothing but you’ll take it all and yet nothing can fill you up.

Every year my sister gets drunk and says hurtful things. This year I punched her in the face.

It didn’t end well for her or my face & certainly not my glasses.

You can spend all your time making art about someone but it doesn’t mean they’ll love you back

Life update: I still buy fancy undergarments when I’m sad regardless of the country I am in.

Thanks for this gem, Iceland.

I’ve been making art