I Told You Sooooooooooooo 🫡

It's Saturday and I'm smoking out my bedroom window again.

A lyric is stuck in my head: the end is closer every second than it's ever been right now.

I wonder that dying is the only thing I'll never be able to control. I find it hard to believe that I won't be scared.

I know that's why people believe in God— because they're scared. I don't really have anything to believe in; maybe the air bubbles in oil, adrenaline, a first draft.

I want to believe in something that's worthy of it. But I haven't found anything like that yet.

Myself, maybe?

unknown // ladybird (2017) // white oleander by janet fitch // elektra by sophocles // everything everywhere all at once (2022) // sharp objects by gillian flynn // mamma told me by mother mother

The sky is a foggy dark gray like I’ve hotboxed the whole planet and not just my 13th floor apartment, smoke curls out the window and it always has somewhere to go.

There is no room for hesitation or stupidity. It just is, and I am carried by want, impulse, the direction of the wind.

Like she said, I want to feel the heat of all the bodies. I want to be alive but aliveness disgusts me, I want to be predictable and human-like. Every moment I am thinking about how it will end and this gets me nowhere, so no wonder I feel stuck.

Trapped in between two tall buildings, endless city blocks, always paralyzed by fear, asking stupid questions like it’s part of my nature— which it is— existing under a false lightless sky; I’m finding wonder in things that I can’t see, taking the easy way out.

Hi im Sophie I like silver jewelry quiet eyes and soft hair. Hot wax and mad cats and a good saxophone solo, I like friends who love me and I like to love; I like to be alone. Empty bathrooms a safe crowd a 1950s fire escape just out of Manhattan from where I can see the stars. I like a rickety thing, unsafe sex, breaking a searching gaze. I like a stranger, a stranger in a big city, a boring kind of stranger to whom things don’t happen; and I like playing a part, a person to whom nothing happens, nothing at all.

School's started

I drink at least one iced matcha latte with oatmilk a day

I'm in love with my teacher

Six days sober

Recently learned about a type of pattern synesthesia where people can pick out 4-leaf clovers easily

I wonder if they are more lucky

Excerpt from 'For you I am a child'

I couldn’t see the letters my hand formed, black against blue on black, but I knew they were there. After this blind exercise was completed, I returned the pen and wrapped my cold feet back into the blanket. Now, it was easy to fall asleep, and if I dreamed that night, I do not remember.

If a poem can be anything, I could’ve written anything. How to make avocados ripe, directions to a church of law, a vow, an elegy, how to rig a sailboat, fold a fortune teller, French inhale, sin, make good oatmeal, kiss without teeth, escape self-delusion, write a novel, give a blowjob, be less, be more, leave everything behind, get blood stains out of white sheets, hold eye contact, not get lost in New York City, find the nearest body of water, win at solitaire, be alone, write in dip pen, build a portal, be with others, float, harmonize, unlearn shame, learn guilt, . . .

open.substack.com

For you I am a child

My body A bag of rice Split open face-down I yawned Tasted cigarettes In the back of my throat Knew I’d ruin myself Again and again Made a h

either way by odie leigh // jeff buckley // normal people by sally rooney // unknown, possibly natalie diaz // eternal sunshine of the spotless mind (2004) // old friend by mitski // halloween by phoebe bridgers // unknown // unknown

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