But the dark feels different in November.
– Nina MacLaughlin, from "The Dark Feels Different in November", The Paris Review
we're not kids anymore.
todays bird

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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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if i look back, i am lost
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$LAYYYTER
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@beyondtheblueperiods
But the dark feels different in November.
– Nina MacLaughlin, from "The Dark Feels Different in November", The Paris Review

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Having some decorations you like in your bedroom will improve your general mental health btw. Won’t cure you but it’ll make a big difference.
maybe i should put a poster 😓 but i feel so out place in my home like i’m an imposter
im doing good! you know. besides the underlying feeling that I'm fundamentally incapable of fitting in in a society. besides that i'm chillin

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
don’t take my defeatism too seriously I will always begin again and again no matter what
I have to remember to give myself grace
I survived a lot.
Will I ever be seen or truly heard?
The other day I was talking with someone I consider a close friend, but halfway through I suddenly had this awful feeling — like the whole conversation was just performative, something to pass the time, and that nothing I was saying was actually being listened to or understood with the emotion I was expressing.
It’s not like I was sharing anything dramatic, but have you ever had that gut feeling that no one really cares about anything you say?
That feeling where you speak, but instead of listening, the other person is just waiting for their turn so they can start talking about themselves? That’s exactly how it felt.
It’s the feeling of realizing you’re worth nothing in that moment. Like you’re only a vessel for them to talk about their own emotions, without them considering yours or what you were saying before.
Sometimes I wonder if anyone will ever see me for who I really am — not as a daughter, not as a friend, not as a partner, but as an individual with real feelings.
Am I the problem?
Is it that I surround myself with self-centered people, or have I isolated myself so much that it’s hard for anyone to actually care about me?
I’ve thought about this for a long time. But honestly, wouldn’t you want to listen carefully to someone who has never fully expressed themselves once they finally find the confidence to do it?
Maybe I’m so sensitive because I never had anyone to open up to as a child. I was always the mature one, the responsible one, the golden child who followed all the rules and tried to make my parents proud. In the end, I became nothing but an empty shell — someone who pretends not to need validation, yet still needs it to feel like all their effort and striving is worth something.
Now, years later, I feel like I’m nothing. I don’t know who I am, and I struggle to motivate myself. I feel trapped between self-hatred and self-centeredness. A lost soul with no identity who’s just performing — and when you think about it, it feels pathetic.
But it’s all I’ve ever known.
What does it even mean to be seen or heard?
To be seen is to be recognized and understood for who you truly are. To be heard is to have your inner thoughts and perspectives acknowledged. Both rely on respect and a level of understanding where your feelings and thoughts are accepted.
However, I’ve never felt that.
I’ve always been different, both in good and bad ways. I talk so much, but no one actually listens. I’ve sacrificed so much for people who don’t value it, because I’m not the person they want sacrifices from. I’ve shared my likes and desires, only for the people around me to know nothing about me. It makes me angry. It makes me close off. It makes me isolate myself — and in turn, I never know anything about them either.
The deepest form of love is to be truly seen and heard, but I’ve never been seen. I’ve never been heard. Does that mean I’ve never been truly loved?
It haunts me.