It Is Raining In My Apartment

it is raining in my apartment

not like, actual rain. but the person upstairs who listens to loud music and screams profanities off the balcony at odd hours seems to have decided to transition to being a swamp person, judging from the steady flow of water from the ceiling. It was slowing down but the water started running again and now it's become more of a steady flow than a drip. My wastebins are getting kinda full. It's only been an hour.

Advice would be appreciated.

OI LISTEN UP YALL

THE LEFT SIDE OF THE ELEVATOR IS FOR PEOPLE WALKING UP

THE RIGHT SIDE IS FOR STANDING

IF YOU TAKE UP MORE SPACE AND CANNOT REASONABLY CLEAR THE LEFT SIDE THAT IS FINE

BUT IF YOU STOP ON THE LEFT SIDE IT HAD BEST BE TO MOVE TO THE RIGHT

Today’s pet peeve brought to you by “my train comes once every hour and I don’t have time between interchanges to tap twelve people on the shoulder when they’re clogging the only accessible walkways”

Also we should have more escalators in general, they’re a good happy medium for people who have limited mobility but don’t require elevator space and want to get places on their own time

Also we should have side escalators just for the people who wanna make out all the way up. One that is shielded from my view and frequently disinfected.

the way we loved each other was ancient and unchanging and new and impossible

there was absolutely nothing special about the fact that we loved each other except that it was us, and there were so many people in the world and in our world that we shouldn't have met, we shouldn't have been together, but we did, and we were

there was absolutely nothing more amazing than us being friends except that we were maybe more than friends and never talked about it, we just were, and even so, there was nothing special about that except that every day, again and again, we chose to love one another.

there was nothing special about us, except that it was us

there was nothing to love about us in particular, except that we loved each other

i knew nothing but loving you, and that made you special to me

Open invitation for the fae to come take me away

ten minute write day 2 (yeah i know i took a 2 week break)

ive been trying to find a liminal space that feels like the ones from my childhood

you know, how it felt being at school at night when everyone had gone home

or how it felt to stand in the church sanctuary when everyone had left

or the elementary school playground on the weekends

and i used to feel a certain holiness in those spaces, in the places that we built for togetherness now full of emptiness and only my own voice echoing against the walls. Keeping me in. i never dreamed that the opposite: an inhuman place suddenly filled with me, would feel anything but uncomfortable and interrupted.

I climbed a mountain last weekend. It was raining on and off, so the air was still, and the birds were hiding, and it was too far up for the large, whistling, singing, strumming bugs. the fragile alpine zone, they called it. my family walked off down the slope to look over the ravine. I stayed behind.

it was so quiet. I've never been in such quiet. I could hear my breath and my heartbeat and if i had stayed still enough, for long enough, I would have heard the blood moving through my veins.

This is the opposite of what I had found in those spaces humans had built. Staring out at the pristine, preserved mountainside, i found myself feeling so tiny, and so huge at the same time. I looked down at the sweeping valley below, and down at my feet in boots that i dragged out of the darkest recesses of my closet for this, and out into the sky, shrouded with clouds that I was now standing inside.

it was so quiet. so quiet. no rushing of machinery. No hum of electricity. no one upstairs rattling around, no children down the street shouting. All things i usually find comfort in. all things i realized i might not miss.

i get it, now. why people just disappear into the mountains. that silence is addictive. that sense of peace leaves an ache in your soul the moment your family comes back around the cairns, rattling keychains and crunching boots. that is the holy silence i will be looking for forever, that is the liminal space i will stand in for as long as i am allowed.

I’m not well, but I am trying to get better.

I spent months pushing bc through it and disconnecting and emptying myself and pushing everything aside and it didn’t work. It never works. Instead my chest hurt from the emptiness and my stomach turned and my head ached. Instead of progress I got bloody nails from picking away at every flaw in my skin and instead of finding peace I found myself curled on the couch day after day wondering why the only thing I could feel was dread.

I have found myself sitting at the bottom of a well with water trickling in and I found myself wondering if it was worth it to begin the climb back out, to let the rain carry me to the surface. It’s going to be hard. But at least I’ve started.

I have a therapist now, and space to heal, and people who love me, and shoulders to cry on. I went to the gym today for the first time in months. I baked a cake just because. I took a long nap and looked out my window at the sky and let my mind wander, no distractions. Just the silence of my apartment and the chaos of my mind.

Being alive is quite something. But living? That takes work. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like working on it.