In this day and age of societal teenage-like anguish and ‘core’ frenzies, I have a confession : Locking in is a social construct i will never partake in, if only because there’s never been anything wrong with a little bit of silliness.
…So I want everything to be fun and a good time and somedays i feel like the world is a tilted stage on which i’m asked to dance? And if then I cry and cry and whine and I take a day off to journal about it? Sue me!
Lately I came to the realisation that I come from generations and generations of fucking losers who took a long time to figure out what they wanted in life and then weren't all that good at pursuing it. I’m not saying that I want to be lazy about my goals and aspirations — by familial standards i’m actually quite far advanced in this regard, but I will say loud and proud that I’m more than okay with a speck of emotional turmoil and doubt, if it means I can get a day off crying in my room and writing about it while sipping a glass of shitty red wine.
—That‘s how good art starts anyway.
3d ago
Related Recs
That's what I wrote two weeks into the cupboard after a healthy dosage of crying. Picture shows the state of the cupboard at that point. My home was fucked.
While cutting wood, I once again caught myself seething at my father. He stuffed my head with a million useless bits of nonsense but never found the time for actual knowledge or skills. So I stepped into the big world armed with the wisdom that "all Germans are fascists," "you shouldn’t stand out," and "razor blades can be changed once a year, don’t fall for corporate tricks." Meanwhile, I had no idea how to properly hammer a nail.
Waltzing on the edge of slicing my fingers off, I cursed him to high heaven. Every skill had to be begged from YouTube or acquired through cuts. And that’s on top of digging out a hundred idiotic clichés and racist banalities from my head. Thanks for nothing, you piece of shit.
But then, somehow, I felt lighter. Fuck that asshole and his colleagues in the grand guild of assholery.
I’m at the age where I definitely don’t need to become the "best version of myself" anymore—enough of that, please.
I just need to be a decent version of my own responsible adult.
The kind who explains, teaches, entertains, and helps. The kind who doesn’t try to destroy or sadden you. And in this concept, where you’re your own Parent 1/2/15 Pro Max, it becomes easier to look at both age and baggage.
You’re standing exactly where they failed with you. Don’t fail yourself. Help, make yourself laugh, and don’t let yourself slice your fingers off.
Feb 3, 2025
i forgot my headphones at home. i was about to either
1) pump black country new road
2) watch brooklyn 99.
i miss being passionate about things, not being able to sleep, eat, speak,
or fathom anything beyond the apple
of my eye and the fruit of my thoughts.
i miss waking up with one thing in mind, how i would explore it that day, and how i would explore it the next
it’s been people
it’s been sewing
guitar
driving
religion
philosophy
photography
writing
filming
blogging
i think, regardless of any tik tok data explosion with the intention of ripping out each of my brain cells to keep me submissive and docile because of a wrecked attention span, i’m not a girl of her commitments- i get bored.
and i am bored. i feel this lack of passion so deeply in my body, its been a catalyst for the recent crashouts ive had ( and there’s been plenty) i don’t know how to stay, and work hard, and allow myself to grow to what i want to be right in this instance. not to shine my own shoes, but i’m not super used to being bad at things. i’ve always always always coasted, and now that im trying to be a gaf (give a fuck) filled girl, ive realized, sucking at something hurts a lot more when you’ve put in the work to be good at it.
if it wasn’t me writing this, and my best friend called me and told me this word for word, i would tell her how normal that feeling was, and that she herself knew what to do; commit. and that is my advice, dear sweet amalia, commit, commit, commit.
Feb 18, 2025
🫂
This might not make the most sense but if I don’t write it I know I’ll be angry with myself.
As someone who has always naturally been drawn to archives and journals and stories- I’ve found that I’ve been trapping myself in the narrative. The idea that life is a singular, vertical narrative, that pain is not simply pain but part of some bigger cycle of distribution and retribution. That pain is naturally repaid with love or safety or comfort. This narrative keeps me coddled in myself, it keeps me safe from having to face the fact that tomorrow might not be easier than today. That this year might not feel much better than last year. That as some things go on, they don’t always get lighter. They don’t alchemize from emotionally pain into material pleasure.
The hero’s journey tells us that the narrative follows simple steps. We are called- your alarm, a Britney Spears song, plays in the morning. Your car breaks down in an unfamiliar part of the city. There’s a death in the family. Whatever it is, the call is something that moves us from familiarity to the unknown. It pulls the hero into the journey. We will then face the unknown and hopefully overcome it. But what about the calls that we don’t answer? Or when we get stuck in the unknown? What about when we are braver than brave and we still cannot overcome everything? I’ve learned that sometimes our pain doesn’t come with atonement. Sometimes there is no return.
Life doesn’t fit into the narrative. The alarm in itself is a narrative, you set it the night before, or maybe you set it three years ago and you’ve been waking up to the same song every single day. The car is a narrative, the unfamiliar side of the city is a narrative. Why haven’t you been there? The death is a narrative explored and experienced by every person in your family, every friend of the dead, every coworker who called the morning after to see why they didn’t show up when their alarm went off that day. Everything is a million narratives coinciding and to trap ourselves into one, to tell ourselves only one story, is blinding us to the intricate nature of life. We cannot exist in only one dimension, and to choose to exist in various different- sometimes beautiful and sometimes horrible- narratives at once is to choose to stop coddling oneself, to stop following your pain like it always has something to give you.
Sometimes it doesn’t. Maybe that’s fine.
Mar 11, 2024
Top Recs from @gabriellezuo_
💭
So, okay. I’m a sucker for trains. I think they are nice and comfy, and Switzerland, where I currently study and live, is said to have one of the best train systems in the world so it’s basically law to like this particular mean of transportation over there... but even then, when I used to live in Paris, there was something about the subway that made it so very often relaxing to me— even during (the evil and ever so obnoxious) PFW.
So, to all of those who cannot see it and refuse to catch a vibe, here’s a little breakdown on what makes train rides so goddamn cool and how to make them better if you still think they suck after all this.
PROOF THAT TAKING THE TRAIN IS COOL
- First of all, I don’t want to brag, but the SNCF (Société Nationale des Chemins de Fer Français, France’s very own messy-ass train company) sends you a yearly breakdown of the CO2 you save by taking the train instead of driving everywhere like a dumb dumb. (Yes, I do not have my driver’s licence yet. No, I am not bitter about it at all). And let me tell you, if Katy Perry et al. took a train to space instead of riding J*ff B*zos’ d*ck, maybe we’d have had a chance surviving climate change. For one, I did my part by figuratively crossing the country a whole lottatimes in breaststroke (I am aware this is not the most accurate way to calculate length but I’ll happily treat it as fact). So, yeah, fuck you Blue Origins.
- Second and maybe the most important point : Do you even know how much time you can save by doing things you really need to do in the train??? Do you????
I am not even kidding, this is the perfect way to multitask if you’re a college student or a WFH type of lad. Train rides can be boring, sure I’ll concede. But bring a good book you’ve been trying to read but didn’t have the time to or your computer and you’re set for the next X hours you would otherwise be spending trying not to fall asleep at the wheel of your shitty 2014 Fiat 500 (again I’m not bitter just ecologically aware...ish).
- Last point: landscapes. Few are the places where you get to see so much whilst doing so little for it. It’s like hiking for lazy people. Love it.
SO YOU ARE A HEATHEN— AND REFUSE TO ADMIT THAT YOU ARE WRONG ABOUT TRAIN RIDES? HERE ARE A FEW TIPS TO MAKE YOURS MORE FUN!
- A good playlist : can and will make almost anything 1000 times better. Here’s mine if you‘re too busy being so cool driving your cool person car (NOT. BITTER.) to make your own train mixtape and enjoy the ride.
- Crosswords : chances are, if you’re in the train, there’s an old person in your immediate vicinity. Ask them to help you out on the hard words instead of checking the answer sheet at the back of the book. Then, if (and only if!) they match your vibe, ask them their life story. You‘ll get reheated, well-infused tea AND a heightened sense of self for not checking out the answer sheet. You‘re welcome.
-Last but not least, and my favourite game to play ever, find the hottest person on the train : If there’s one, congrats! You can now ogle away and make up stories about your life together after they inevitably catch your gaze, ‘coz let’s face it, if you thought you were discrete you were anything but (Trains are smaller than you’d think and there’s not so many people that you wouldn’t recognise them when you inevitably take the same bus home afterwards. If you noticed them, they probably noticed you back at some point). If there’s no hot people on your train— congrats as well! It means it’s probably you. Boom, free dopamine boost. Go on with your day feeling like sex-on-rails.
To conclude, we should all fuck with trains. Except when there‘s a tuna sandwich involved in any way, shape or form. Fuck you if you are a tuna in the train person.
1d ago
I hear too many words in my every day life. I say too many words in my every day life. I work with words, actually. I’m a word-worker. Lately, I’ve been trying to use fewer of ’em to express more things. So, here is it.
No lyrics = more feelings.
I don’t know how to explain it better than this in so little words.
Nov 1, 2024
Sometimes you think that you'll never be anything great because what you wish you were is already someone or something else, and you can’t explain it, but it feels weirdly good. I guess it takes the pressure off somehow and that allows for experimentation and failure, and all of those things that make people people. This movie is that for me, I think. I’m nothing. It’s everything. I love it.
Oct 30, 2024