béliveau.

My Dear,

It’s a blur between snow and rain outside.

I woke up a tad earlier than my alarm and swung in my hammock for a time. My alarm blared and I rushed to switch it off. I wandered to the shower and brushed my teeth, completed my skincare and got dressed. I checked off my morning routine and finally sat down to meditate. It was quite frankly a blissful and peaceful moment.

I took my coffee (with a splash of homemade eggnog) and smoke a cigarette outside. The rainy snow adorned the rooftops like tiffany diamonds. It was cinematic and dreary. The wind rustled me inside and I sat down to write.

With Love,

Beliveau.

3 December 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost.

My Dear,

As I pace in circles spinning an empty room and the gusts of wind permeate the shallow windows, I feel a chill of insistence rush down my spine. It’s Wednesday morning and I can’t stop thinking. I rush out to the side door to light a cigarette and the sun has hidden itself behind the horizon and the endless grey mirage. The snowstorm hit hard yesterday and it’s locked me inside with nothing but my thoughts. A shiver blasts through my body as I take one last puff and put the flame out in the snow. I am inside now and I am lonely.

I’ve met plenty of people who admit they love Chicago, but the winters debate with them as if they should pack a bag and disappear. I tend to believe I am in the mentioned camp of people. I know I can make it through the harsh and bizarrely hateful doldrums, but it will be hard. Wish me luck.

With Love,

27 November 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost.

My Dear,

It was so terribly cold, and I had left my gloves in the apartment. I was desperate for a cigarette yet my hands felt like bones. The flame from my light was a tad bit warmer than expected, but I was thankful for the interruption. I was waiting for him to arrive. I was standing outside the coffee shop and there he was. The cold seemed to dissipate and I grinned.

We walked to the bakery only to find they were closed. We decided to keep walking as our conversation grew like roots in the sod. I mentioned a cemetery nearby and it we raced toward the entrance. We walked, and walked, and walked. We ended up getting lost for a few hours until I found a map to escape. It was so playfully macabre.

After, we hugged and kissed; departed ways, and planned to meet again. I think I might be falling in love.

With Love,

24 November 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost.

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My Dear,

I don’t often have great dates, but this felt a tad different. We had met online, which I am rather adverse to, yet our conversations felt ecstatic. Our first date was yesterday, and I brought them a bouquet of sunflowers. I saw them on a sales cart and was instantly reminded of Van Gogh and his sunflowers. I was hopeful it wouldn’t be seen as too much, but they loved them. We cuddled, watched a great movie, and talked about life. It was truly brilliant. We have a second date this Tuesday, and I genuinely can’t wait.

With Love,

Self portrait during period of growth. (2025) (acrylic, oil pastel, grease pencil, graphite and ink on paper)

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18 November 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost.

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My Dear,

Isn’t it strange how emotions come and go—no matter their intensity in the moment? I had to go back to a place I’m really not fond of, and it brought back a lot of rather unpleasant memories. I drove back in my friend’s car and sat at my desk. I put on Gigi Perez’s live performances and I began to sob. I just felt so overwhelmed; from my day job to the bombardment of news every day. I needed to let it out.

This situation reminded me how fleeting emotions are—they can be horrible in the moment, but once they fade they’re gone. It may be terribly to endure such things, but in time they will be gone. Change is the only constant.

With Love,

Self portrait as andy warhol. (2025) (acrylic, oil pastel, graphite and crayon on paper)

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Man on the side of the road in Honduras.

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My Dear,

I struggle with feeling cared for in my relationships and friendships. I know many people care and want me in their lives; yet, I feel as if the way they express their concern and affection is contradictory toward how I want to feel these things expressed to me. I honestly don’t know how I want to be loved and I think that contributes to much of the dismay in my personal life. I enjoy being held like most people and I feel it necessary to be told if I’m doing well or if I am genuinely loved. I could ask the people around me to be more verbal about these things and make efforts to console me in a physical way when I need it—but, I don’t know how they’d respond. My best friend in San Francisco is too far to truly be a support for these things and the people I know here in Chicago aren’t necessarily the best at receiving these types of communication. It’s a tough situation.

I don’t really know where to leave this post, but I guess I’ll end it with this. Human relationships require a level of vulnerability that can often be incredibly difficult to sustain; yet without it, these relationships are far from substantial or meaningful in any genuine capacity. I really have to learn to be more open about my needs if I want my friends to see me in the way I want to be seen.

With Love,

Béliveau.

13 November 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost.

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My Dear,

I’ve started reading “How to do nothing” by Jenny Odell. It’s a truly brilliant dissection of how our minds escape through fixation on content and forceable productivity in a capitalist system and its effects on our mental health. I feel as if I’m in a hamster wheel myself—forced to consume to relax, forced to work at maximum efficiency to maintain the simplest of lives. The little time I do have for myself is often wasted in binge watching youtube. I know this is problematic, and I think i’ve come up with some solutions to counteract this issue. I’m devoting more time to photography, painting, writing and music. I’ve promised myself on my days off I am focusing on these endeavors. I hope I can share the efforts with all of you.

With Love,

Puddles in St. Boniface (2025)

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View from diner bench (12 November 2025 at 1:34p in Chicago)

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12 November 2025, Chicago, IL — Blogpost

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my dear,

i happen to take a walk most mornings before many people are awake. i was walking my typical route when i saw an artist painting away at a public work. i thought to myself i should ask her about her work, and i did. we spoke in clear and concise sentences about varying inspiration and previous works. we entangled our accomplishments and exchanged information.

i ride a similar route for my day job every morning. i pass by her painting away most mornings now. this is the fourth day this week i’ve passed her painting fervently away—and i’m just dumbfounded by her consistency and ample ability to endure. it’s been below freezing every morning here in Chicago and this Artist (capital A) is there. i can’t help but applaud this ethic and determination. i wish her nothing but success.

with love,