An Open Letter to the New Followers

Welcome to my Small Corner of Sarcasm, Depression, and Vulnerability

Dear Newbies,

I am alive, and I live in a beautiful city. That mellow, messy, leaf-kicking, perfect pause between summer and winter is my favorite time of year. Chilly air, whistling wind, and rain that smells like memories.

Sometimes, I like to lie awake at night listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops on my roof. Sometimes, the sky is so clear that I can see the far blue edge of forever behind distant suns. Sometimes, I see little shooting stars out of the corner of my eyes like falling glitter. Sometimes, I think if we lived to be 200–300 years old, the clouds would spin a lot faster. Sometimes, I think this world is slowly killing my soul.

I write about the good and the bad, but I skew towards the bad. The daydreams, sex, racism, cross-cultural friendship, addiction, suicidal thoughts, love, relationships, existential despair, depression, regrets, emotional abuse, the seedy underbelly of faith, anxiety, nebulousness of life, hard reality of living in a country that needs to stop competing in the dystopia Olympics. (Really. America is trying to get all the gold medals. Give us our trophy and shutter the races.)

Since 2009, I’ve been writing “Here’s why the world is going to shit, and I’m depressed.” I wrote two years ago that I always assume my little corner of sarcasm and vulnerability won’t “sell”, and I’ll get to write out my heart without waking the neighbors. People generally haven’t wanted to hear my bleakness. People are finally starting to realize “Holy shit. She might have had a point.” Apparently, 2020 is that bad. A hollow victory if there ever was one. Sorry you’ve stumbled here because of whatever pain is in your heart, but there’s tea and whiskey. Take your pick.

I used to wake up in the middle of the night and take photographs, pictures that represented the things I could never find the words to express. Often times I would wonder if the message was ever lost in translation.

I don’t think it is.

I think that is why I keep doing it.

I guess you could say I’m a dreamer. I like anything pretty, witty, or wise, and captivating and emotional art inspires me. I am 2/3 free and the 1/3 “unfree” part of me doesn’t even matter that much. I believe in magic and people and pinky promises, and I’m kind of in love with the whole wide world. I like flaws and feel more comfortable around people who have them. I want to do something wild and reckless. I want to feel alive. I want a rich life, full of both hugs and kisses and kicks and punches. And I don’t really know where I’m going, but I hope I go far. Hand me the words that keep you up at night so I can smash them on the pavement.

Nice to “meet you”.

Hipster. Hooligan. Writer. Wanderer. Sad AF, but you'll learn some things.

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