damsel my ass

I have had many thoughts over the last hours. If we never speak again (for real this time) I want it to be on good terms, you know? We are all in need of in-patient at this point. I look at people in relationships and wonder how much they are faking it. How are people holding it together? Necessity? Routine? Boredom? Peanut butter?

I am not putting this mask on ever again. Not for him not for anyone. I am exhausted. You do not like me? Okay! Buh bye! Delete my number and go away please. No more fair-weather friends. No more casual anything. Just no. Be all in or fuck off.

Ta! Love you! 💋


You should avoid or limit the use of alcohol while being treated with sertraline. Alcohol can increase the nervous system side effects of sertraline such as dizziness, drowsiness, and difficulty concentrating. Some people may also experience impairment in thinking and judgment. Talk to your doctor or pharmacist if you have any questions or concerns.

I had been taking a small dose of sertraline after my birthday to deal with the depression that snuck up on me. It was never meant to be a long-term situation.

No one mentioned that it did not mix with topiramate.

Combine that with the birth control and the alcohol I had the night before… it is amazing that I did not put myself in front of a train.

I did not say anything about the antidepressant because Eirik made some snarky comment about tablets not fixing everything. Yeah great, I am glad you have the ability to suss out your whole life with no help. I cannot leave my house except to run short errands because if I get sick, I might stay sick or I could die. I am so damn lonely and people are afraid to come and visit me because they do not want to get me sick. Right, of course, you are so superior to me because you have it altogether because you do not feel anything. All of your shit is bottled up in your wizard jars and I am a mess with my two or three feels so la-dee-da, I had a breakdown because I fell in love with someone that runs away every time he gets too close and might say out loud that he is happy too.

I react to antidepressants because I do not have a serotonin deficiency but I was desperate. It helped for a minute but wow did I fuck up. I mean, whatever, I do so many things well, I might as well screw up in a grandiose sort of way too right? The bottom line is this: when people cannot manage to communicate properly, I have to wear different masks around them. I am BAD at mask wearing. It is like lying but different. I am modifying who I am to suit their fakeassness. If they were just open, I could be myself and all would be great. Most people just let me run wild but Eirik is not one of those people. He wears a great big black box across his middle and its name is seven. Over the time I have known him, it has decreased in size, but he still wears it like an anchor. He hates it too, by the way. Some people wear them with pride. He is aware of it and he shifts around it like an ugly sweater someone knit him that he promised to wear because he loved the knitter. It is ill-fitting & makes him uncomfortable. But he wears it all the same. We talk about it and he does not know how to take it off.

So I wear a mask to accommodate that hideous thing.

I tried dancing around it, but it takes up so much space. It is physics. I had to match it.

As time went on, I got frustrated and tried to name that box something else: fear of commitment, him not being over his ex, me not being what he wanted, him wanting someone else, whatever – it stayed seven and my mask got heavier.

We got closer sometimes, sometimes I did not want to be with him at all. I dated others and did not talk to him for ages.

When I put the mask back on it would feel like second skin, like I never took it off, even if it had been months since I last wore it.

It always got heavy fast, though.

I would wait for him to say something to feed my heart, a compliment, any crumb to let me know that we were back “on”. Half a year went by before he did so.

In that amount of time, I turned down five people that wanted committed relationships. Nothing was wrong with any of them. They were just not him. Even if they looked a bit like him. Even if they were handpicked to talk to me about history (because now I have a problem). They did not get me like he did.

And they did not have me on a fucking line like he does.

I have no addictions, dear hearts. I tried like hell to pick up smoking, no other drugs stuck, alcohol I can take or leave (and with my family history, that is weird) but his ability to fill me with intelligent banter for hours and hours and then chat me up and flirt my knickers off, snuggle me up like a kitten and manage to do all of this months without degrading me

& then he disappears with no word for days, weeks, sometimes months

AND THEN REAPPEARS to do it all over again it is like the drugs I never got hooked on and he managed to wrap his soft pale arms around me and I got lost in those foresty eyes my god.

Add a hormone disruption like the one I had plus the alcohol and then I just wanted to die.

I cannot.

My autistic brain is already super-charged.

In or out please.

Stop playing with me. People are not toys.

/no grammar correction sorry if this is insane.

Tagged : / / /

on repeat

while talking about my future self I keep taking old stories and pruning them because they no longer serve me.

so what happens to her – the girl that was always trying so hard? the girl that struggled to keep her mask on because if it slipped everyone would see how fragile she was & then they would poke at her fresh bruises and then they would never heal.

what happens to her? does she get set free? does she disappear?

did she ever exist?

did I make her up? if I create all of my memories, did I choose to suffer unnecessarily?

how about the new stories? will they have better endings now that I understand the writing process?

so the woman that I am now, what will happen to her in twenty years?

Tagged :


I love New Year’s resolutions. Probably not a strange thing when you consider that I am constantly on a quest. I am not crazy about the year itself, 2020, even numbers are gross. You cannot get rid of them no matter what you do.

And, of course, 2020 is a leap year so there will be an even amount of days in the year, too. Even MMXX looks stupid.

Anyway, it will annoy me for most of the year. No date will be right.

and 20.10.2020 will be the worst.

Maybe awesome days but just bad number days.

I am pouting already.


I resolve to:
-spend less time reading the news.
-socialise more.
-read more books (my goal last year was 12. I read 28. I probably read more than that but I did not count magazines & graphic novels).
-knit more (I was on a yarn diet the last year & a half so I have knit very little. I knit my stash down quite a bit. What yarn I did not love I gave to Guin for her to knit her own Squish! Being free from all of that yarn feels amazing. I did not realise how bogged down by it I was. A lot of it was bought by Will and I did not have enough of it to make anything so it just sat in baskets in the basement, being expensive and pretty. Every time I bought yarn, I felt guilty because I knew I already had so much. I spent 18 months not buying yarn unless it was to finish a project I already started with the stash yarn. It made me not like knitting very much. Without knitting, I have been very bored!).
-switch out some yoga for pilates (I like yoga more but pilates is better for my flexibility).
-travel to someplace I have never been.
-camp more.
-do more charity work.

That is my list for this year (I typed yarn first! See where my brain is?). I have bigger goals within these tiny bullets but this is a general idea of where this year is sending me outside a professional level. (:




The call of the mountain

I had this conversation last night that is still making my head spin.

If everything was meant to happen the way it did to teach me a lesson & I have yet to learn it is this why I am stuck in this perpetual loop of creating substance where there is a gaping void? I know what exists there: superficial intrigue & boundless drama. There is safety in the known & it is kinder to my heart to re-write the cruel ending I did not deserve.

Everyone that reads for me tells me the same thing – give it time. It will work out in the end. Strength is needed.

This does not do much for me right now. Knowing this does not let me move on.

I just want to be able to fall in love again.


Is that a lot to ask?


I ja kljanus obostzav dva paltza

In a chat, I was told that Gogol Bordello’s lyrics were racist because they sang about gypsies (and I was then a racist by proxy).

Romany Gypsies are an ethnic group so it depends on the way you are using it. If you use it in the correct context it is not racist. However, it can still be used as a slur and that is racist. The word was used in a very racist and discriminatory way for many years and then what happened was that the term moved to a traveller to be all-encompassing. So anybody that could be described as a traveller or a Gypsy became a traveller.

1. A member of a people that arrived in Europe in migrations from northern India around the 14th century, now also living in North America and Australia. Many Gypsy groups have preserved elements of their traditional culture, including an itinerant existence and the Romany language.
2. See Romany.
3. One inclined to a nomadic, unconventional way of life.
4. A person who moves from place to place as required for employment, especially:
a. A part-time or temporary member of a college faculty.
b. A member of the chorus line in a theatre production.
Being an ethnically ambiguous person comes with a lot of privileges. When folks unknowingly or knowingly profit off of the word “gypsy,” claim they have a “gypsy soul,” or use “gypsy aesthetic” for a day at Coachella, they are reinforcing racist stereotypes of Romani women and dehumanising them. So before you put on that coin skirt and scarf, or proclaim your “free-spirited gypsy-ness,” remember that they already exist and will be always be gypsies and Romani.
But to say gypsy is akin to “the n-word” is nonsense. 
The word gypsy is a stand-alone term that means wanderer (see above). “The n-word” only means:
  1. a contemptuous term for a black or dark-skinned person.

    No matter how you look at it, “the n-word” is a slur.

    Most people in general American society do not even know that gypsies are Romani people – but everyone knows the right terminology for a black person. 
    I would say it is on par with calling Native American’s “Indians”.
    It is a garbage exonym and should be avoided because it is antiquated & corrupted.

(this is my 500th post on this site – huzzah!)

Connecting to the Higher Realms is simply a re-awakening; a remembrance.

When you love someone, you show respect for them, even when they are not in the room.

When you love someone, you do not want to hurt their feelings. You do not want to make them look like the bad guy in front of other people. You do not want to get revenge by dragging their name through the mud.

When you love someone, you treat them with respect even when you are angry, even when you are in the middle of an argument, even when you are not in the mood to look at them.

When you love someone, you would never dream of saying something unforgivable because you would never dream of hurting them – and you would never dream of losing them.


Talking about people shows more of who you are than they are.

The way you talk negatively about people, pointing out their flaws or their behaviours show more about you than it does them. It shows your insecurities and makes you look like the bad person. Saying someone is ugly will not make you any prettier, so stop bashing others. We are all trying to figure out life together.

Do not keep watering dead flowers.

When it is over move on. Watering dead flowers will not bring them back to life, no matter how hard you try and how much you water them. When it is over it is over.

Avoid the rearview mirror.

You are not going back, you cannot go back. As much as you might miss the way things used to be, they will always just be the way things used to be. Time cannot stop and you cannot go back. That is why you have to cherish the time you have and enjoy the memories.

The most destructive lies are not the ones told to us — they are the ones we tell ourselves. Those lies we repeat quietly to convince ourselves that this relationship we cherish so much is as valuable to them as it is to us. Those lies we whisper to our tired brain to convince ourselves that the red flags are not there and that our mind is playing tricks on us yet again. But deep down we know. We know we cannot blame our overthinking on this one. We know the red flags are real, but we lie to ourselves to protect our tender heart from reality.

The truth is, if someone wants to be in your life, they will be. There will not be confusion, and you will not have to wonder how your relationship can be a fairytale one day and a drama the next.

Let today be the day you stop lying to yourself. Let it be the day you move on, the day you forgive yourself for loving them too deeply, and for investing time and pieces of your heart in someone who was not ready for your love. Let today change you. 

Girl, you got this.

(V.41 was a stretch so)

Bringing a Pillow to a Knife Fight

Today’s vibration has to do with s l e e p.

So no post about it today.

I have started writing that book I swore I would write for like a zillion years.

The story was never the problem. I have always known the story I wanted to tell – it was the format I was having an issue with.

It has come together without seams.

I am more than pleased!

This morning was a tangle of stupid metro bus connections (or misconnections), rain-showers (without an umbrella), bad dubstep, not enough caffeine or motivation. But this afternoon came together with a cosy wool cardigan, ample espresso, and all of my steps before lunchtime.

I came home to cat snuggles + sunshine.

Alright, I have a reading to do before I make dinner.
I was positive today was going to be complete shit.

I am glad I was wrong. x

I really only went to see ghost, girl

I have laughed three nights in a row until my sides hurt.

Two out of those three nights, I have been sober.

After the night that I got too drunk and walked around with deer horns and a Gandalf stick singing Whitney Houston songs and then ending the night realising that I have done more losing than winning so I sobbed until I thought my eyeballs would fall out,

I decided drinking was a bad idea.

So even when I do drink, I drink champagne because it is expensive so I cannot drink much. I cannot and will not get myself in a situation where I will cause drama or… you know, kill myself because I do not know how to stop drinking once I have started.

The company I have had has been stellar. I am glad that I made the decision to get myself out of the house and re-socialise my life again. Only leaving the house for work or therapy was really doing a number to my psyche.

I need to remember what it is like to be part of life again. I let people take these things from me and unless I am ready to give up completely, I have to put all of my chips in. This is not easy, I realise, but what in life is?

weird shit has been happening so I have locked up some posts. leave me a message somewhere and I will send you the password if you need to read one of the locked posts. if you go back to the main page, Touch will send me an email if you are not connected to me IRL. I will probably not unlock the posts, I had debated deleting them but I hate erasing my words even when I am done with the person I wrote them about. I just feel like I said, “so and so is not doing this and that so they are not happy and they are using that as a guide to prove that they are indeed happy LOOK I AM DOING IT NOW” and that seems so sad to me. I am supposed to be the one languishing. I am the single one that was* in love with someone that “did not love me back” but my list became his bucket list.

I asked not to be informed anymore but I know I will be. One of my friends is dating someone in his social circle and now it is all entertaining (as heartbreak to others often is when it is not yours).

*notice that I said was.

The longer I go without seeing him the less I think of him. The less I think of him the less I feel for him. The less I feel for him the more optimistic I become that this may finally be over.

The uncrossing has done its job.

The tears of joy are ruining my fucking eyeliner.

p.s.s – Ghost was fun! Metallica was meh. It was not my first time seeing them & I am unsure if it was the location but it was hardly a show I think I will remember. My company was the best part of the night (until he got too drunk and wandering with his hands… but this is nothing new with him).

I am glad I went, though. Live music, even when it is not excellent, is good for the soul. ✨