Ever Feel Like The World Has Won? Like Ennui And Cruelty And Paranoia And Expectations Have Finally Crushed

ever feel like the world has won? like ennui and cruelty and paranoia and expectations have finally crushed the person you used to be? you ever wake up and suddenly you're old, not in body necessarily but holy fuck where is the you that was so fearless and ambitious and creative? did you really just let them kill you? you gave up that fucking easily?

post-email aftercare like that was a great email and you seemed so normal

Greenhouse reading nooks 🌱

11.5.2023

Time passes so differently on the weekends. I feel like Friday was just moments ago, but here I am gearing up for another week. On Friday some friends and I went to a monthly art festival held downtown, which was a lovely way to recharge and discover a new dimension of this city (one that I've been looking for, at that). I spent much of today in the lab, which isn't my favorite, but it was surprisingly peaceful. For dinner I made stuffed acorn squash and roasted the seeds :) This was my first time making them, but I now have a new autumn staple.

Me in the shower thinking about my wife: i think one of the big reasons why het culture "wifey/hubby" "his/hers" "tiaras/mustaches" matching sets other than the cis binarism of it all is that it reveals the thought process behind heteropatriarchy wherein ideal love is a product of inversion; two puzzle pieces that fit together but are separate and made functional solely by the utility of their differences. Heteropatriarchal love retroactively redefines a person as a half of a whole, their functions and idiosyncrasies only valuable when curtailed by another's. But more than that, heteropatriarchal love is so divided. My "hers" towel and your "his." Married on a friday because saturdays are for the boys. Your woodsmoke-scented deodorant and my lavender. We cant possibly hope to understand each other and that's what lends our partnership value, somehow. But the love i cherish--the love that nurtures me--is inextricability. Not the teeth of your personality spinning the cogs of mine but the blend and blur of our edges together. The further in the tide rolls the better. The love that nurtures me is accepting everything about you into my life even if i dont feel the same way about it that you do. Its a becoming. Becoming you, becoming myself, becoming us, again and again. There are no puzzle pieces to snap together, and im no more or less of anything with or without you. But no matter what happens i carry you with me now. Even in the small ways like how we wear each others jackets and deodorant and hats. I wear your mannerisms, and your jokes. I have your interests. You have my music taste. We subsume and consume one another. We explore each other by exploring ourselves and vice versa. The process of loving you is a mapping of a vast expanse and it is the creation itself of that expanse, ad infinitum. Loving you is a fluidity of the self. I try out new ways of living through you. I see through your eyes. My life doubles by virture of sharing it with you. We finish each others sentences and joke that were the same person but its truer than we have the language to describe. My selfhood blurs into yours; Im not half of a whole, but together we are a whole. You could draw a straight line from one end of me to the other end of you, no breaks. And why shouldnt we travel that line? Step inside my head and get comfy. Mi casa es su casa. Youre me and im you.

What comes out of my mouth when she walks into the room: id let you wear my skin if i could