Let’s skip past the whole “This is my first time blogging…” and the “I have no idea what I’m doing,” introduction and just crack open the shell and get to the crab meat.

I don’t plan on word vomiting who I am and what my interests are; the best way to get to truly know someone is through observation and time. To me, I want this blog to be a safe space where I can finally be myself and share my daily thoughts and experiences with anonymity.

I’ve never truly felt like anyone has seen me for who I really am; I’m like a chameleon. I’m constantly shifting hues to appear in different ways to blend in with my environment. I recently watched As Good As It Gets, and in a way, I felt like I had more in common with Melvin Udall than just obsessive-compulsive disorder. His crude cynicism reminds me an awful lot of the bitterness I think in my head but never say aloud.

Does that technically make me a bad person?

Growing up, I convinced myself that even having a thought was essentially putting it into existence. If I thought about wanting school to be cancelled tomorrow, I was basically putting it out into the world, and because I wanted it to happen, paradoxically, it wouldn’t, so I told myself I wasn’t allowed to think about it.

I couldn’t let myself think about doing pottery in art class because then it wouldn’t happen, so I had to pretend to myself that I didn’t want to do pottery. I know that sounds extremely confusing, but it made so much sense, and oftentimes it felt like it worked.

But after a while, it didn’t work, and we still didn’t do pottery in art class for weeks. I would blame myself because I might have kinda thought about it. So, for me to be absolutely sure that I definitely wasn’t thinking about it anymore since the initial thought, I had to roll my eyes to completely erase and undo the thought.

Now that was starting to really work, I was making some real progress, and I began using my eyeroll method like an eraser on the end of a pencil.

If my daydream began going off course…I had to erase it, and then I could go back.

Repeating the exit ramp number for work will only stop repeating in my head if I roll my eyes to get rid of it.

The thought of accidentally cutting my nail with a knife while chopping vegetables could only go away if I…

Anyways, that last one physically made me cringe all over again, and I’d rather not continue down that rabbit hole.

*cue the eyeroll*

somewhere between my skinny jeans became baggy pants

my crop tops became loose t-shirts

somehow my fitted bras became empty cups

and dark circles deepen under my eyes

exhaustion weighs heavy on my shoulders

frayed holes lazily punched into my belts