screams

call me villain.

call me she-wolf.

call me bad omen.

call me

your worst nightmare

wearing a

red-lipped smile.

over time, this has become something i find to apply to too-many things. this weighty, complicated thing - responsible. almost direct from the latin respondere - the verb for "to answer to".

taking responsibility is not just "being in control of". it also means being gentle. being able to apologize. being able to accept fault. to notice your own actions and change them to be better. it is not just saying "ah fuck i dropped the plate," it is saying "okay, i'll go get the broom."

at 16, when her parents tell her i put a roof over your head, she spends that night curled in my lap, sobbing, trying to articulate something too-heavy-for-words - that they think responsibility is just about obligation; that she is bound to them because they are responsible for her. that she feels, over and over, responsible for their emotions. that she spends hours cartwheeling over eggshells, feeling the drip of their expectations slowly sushing down her body.

according to my mom, responsibility and privilege are partners. this is probably true. a car (privilege) is a weapon if used (responsibility) incorrectly. my dog is my responsibility, and he brings me the privilege of hours spent in sunshine. there are, though, a lot of times people are given one without the other - the privilege, and no responsibility for their actions. the responsibility, and nothing but hours of obligation, over-and-over. i have also learned: there is a difference between fault and responsibility. this will be important for you at some point, if you are watching.

at 21, when i am begging him again to just listen, i am asking him to take responsibility for the span of our relationship. for the ways he has shoved thorns into every part of my body. i come across as needy, because it is my job to be responsible for the relationship - somehow, he has escaped that. it is always my job to ask for help. to beg for him to just put in any-ounce-of-more.

how easily responsibility becomes assumed. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to take care of dinner. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to get groceries, to clean the house, to mealplan, to do laundry. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to wear smart clothing. it is the responsibility of the [ ] to blend in with the rest of society.

at 25, it is happening again. this is a different man in a different city, and the responsibility is one that is demanded of me. he tells me he will skip off the world and into the darkness if i break his heart, no matter how much he breaks mine. i am back to begging - get help, get better, i cannot lift you if you do not try to stand with me. i am also responsible for myself - and then, suddenly, responsible for the entire life of somebody. i remember sitting there asking him - when will it be your turn to do the carrying? and the way he wrinkled his nose at me. i would laugh-cry: i feel like i'm your mother and he would start gagging. nothing would change. still running after him, making sure he washed his clothes and took care of himself and made those appointments and did anything. my own health was suffering.

a lot of discussion about consequence is really a discussion of responsibility. i am an internet poet. i made a little hellsite my unfortunately-unpaid home. i believe, in my heart of hearts - make what you want, but be responsible for it. whenever we make things, we are bound to them, end of story. this is a real-life thing. watch who in your life hates having responsibility. watch the way they expect other people to have responsibility. this sense they have: that responsibility is punishment, is unfair to unload on them. that someone else should do the carrying.

i am 26 at the start of 2020. we all know what happens then. the average person is asked to take responsibility. for many, this is second-nature. simple. occasionally annoying, but eventually habitual. for many others, though, this is their great and honest reckoning. they misunderstand civil liberty to mean - a land where everything, always, is just-about-me. on a personal level, when i am not absolutely livid about this population, i am sort-of sad for them. one of the good things about responsibility is that it builds community. each of these people, one at a time, has been making the same statement: i am alone in this world. i am blisteringly, horribly lonely.

i have noticed, over time - the way that responsibility is borne. how careful i have to be as a queer cuban writer. how careful some asshole on twitter is-not-careful-at-all. knowing that if i am too-loud. abrasive, unflattering: i could make my whole community responsible for my behavior. that people would read my work and say - see! this is why there aren't that many of these types of writers. that others can make bigger, bolder mistakes - but it will just be their mistake to make; their-singular-responsibility. that what i am "careful" about is making my posts well-researched, thought-out, accessible, funny. that what others are rabidly angry about being careful about - that they would suddenly become responsible for bigotry. this horrible sense: you have no idea what it means to be forced to bear this weight, and you find it terrifying.

i have been responsible for a long time. laughing, i tell my therapist eldest daughter, middle child syndrome. i was a latchkey kid. i was the first one home and had to be sure i got the fire lit or there wasn't heat. written like that, it sounds like something from charles dickens: alone, shivering in a house that isn't home, feeding tinder to the back of the wood stove. i have been a delight to have in class. i was always charmingly responsible. i have had-to-be. there was no other option.

burnout is high, i'm told. over and over, the media paints people like me as being responsible for how we are treated. they will say it's not your fault, but we all know they think it is my responsibility. people are violent to me; it is my responsibility to be a more properly-trained minority. my boss is cruel; it's my responsibility to find a new job or just go hungry. it is not the responsibility of others to help me figure out my medical debt, i should try asking more questions at the pharmacy. it is not the responsibility of public schools to help students get an education - it is the responsibility of 17-year-olds to sign into a lifetime of debt. it is not the responsibility of the government to protect my right to choose; it's my responsibility to simply not get into any situation that might require me having an opinion. it's satisfying to watch the general, quiet strike of minimum-wage workers: the way others, confused, are demanding the same question - why aren't other people taking responsibility for the things i don't want to do myself?

the other day, i saw a post from someone who hurt me. it was sort of embarrassingly on-the-nose. he's kissing someone new now (god protect her). under the two of them smiling, the caption reads: thank you to this responsible, beautiful queen for constantly taking care of me.

“That one is touched in the head. Spends all the time staring into the water, like it’ll tell the fortunes of one and all.”

I heard their scoffing remarks and bit my tongue, knowing they would tremble if they could see what I saw. We were sailing over a depth that let the ocean floor seem equidistant to the stars, and not far away swam a mermaid.

Not the delicate little sea blossom they dreamt of, this one had the rear half of a blue whale and the large muscular upper torso that could crush our vessel in a half assed hug. She was sleek and through her slightly translucent upper torso flesh, I could see teeth that could chomp through bone with ease.

i don't wanna feel sexy like tv. i don't wanna feel sexy like little black dress. i wanna feel sexy like high note during karaoke. like just got done writing 14 pages of poetry. like let me show you this scarf i've been knitting. i wanna feel sexy like hand on the back of the headrest while you parallel park. like did i tell you about that time i saved a baby bird. like don't tell her but i've been sneaking money into her purse.

i don't wanna feel pretty like expensive. like high fashion. like paid to be here. i wanna feel pretty like a bird in a puddle. i wanna feel pretty like streak of dyed hair. i wanna feel pretty like calligraphy, like new leaves, like a skinned knee bleed, like a dog running at full speed. i wanna feel pretty like lying next to you. i wanna feel pretty like the new album just dropped, i wanna feel pretty like a shower, i wanna feel pretty like a stone wall all covered in moss.

i keep saying body neutrality. that feels negative - no bad things, no good things, just body. but i mean - my body is neutral like a flower is neutral like an oil slick is neutral like a day is neutral, too. my body is neutral so a kiss can feel like lightning so a dance can feel like a hula hoop so a walk to get coffee can feel like - god, i'm so happy to just be around you.

Somehow you’ve ended up as your comfort character’s “imaginary friend.”

No matter what they try, they can’t get rid of you, and no one else has any idea you’re there.

to folks who might not know, moleskine is extremely famous AND infamous. they are hardcover notebooks with elastic enclosures. they are expensive, and sold everywhere from pharmacies to bookstores, and does collaborations with a variety of brands including james bond and pokemon. moleskine has tried to establish itself as a luxury notebook, which it technically is.

as long as you do not write in it.

moleskine paper is wholeheartedly shit. it is complete fucking garbage. you might wonder, what makes good paper? well the first thing is how well it can be written on. good paper can handle ink well. good ink handling means clear, solid lines without any feathering (fuzzy spreading), not bleeding through the page, and not ghosting. basically, you want paper that can do crisp lines with a variety of different inks and be used on both sides.

moleskine does not do that. anything more than a ballpoint or pencil will look fuzzy and gross and bleed right through the fucking page. the paper is shit. and that makes people think their pen is shit. and ballpoint pens can be seen on the other side of the page.

common knowledge is that fountain pens, rollerball pens, gel pens, felt pens, and more work better on good paper. good meaning good with ink. but when many people think good paper without knowing any better, they will reach for a moleskine notebook. because moleskine is expensive and advertises itself as good and is widely available. so people try out actually good writing implements on this shit paper, see how bad it works, and then blame the pen.

fountain pens, gel pens, and rollerball require much less pressure than ballpoint pens. they are ergonomic. easier on joints, easier for chronic pain. and moleskine makes people give up on them. nobody wants shitty bleeding feathered lines.

in the united states, our ideas of good paper and good stationery in general are extremely warped. so much of this is because paper here fucking sucks. a lot of paper performs like moleskine. there is shit paper at all price ranges. but you can pick up caliber brand paper (the ones that say made in vietnam) from cvs and have infinitely better performance for pennies. even though it looks low quality, caliber paper (vietnam) can even handle calligraphy ink clearly. bad paper makes people hate good pens and bad pens make people hate writing.

another thing really important to mention, a lot of people think thick paper is always better. this is extremely wrong. in terms of being able to handle a wide variety of inks clearly and cleanly, some of the best paper in the world is tissue thin (tomoe river).

God Moleskine is such a frustrating product, and as an aspiring stationer, I hate that it's so popular in North America. They're beautifully constructed, yes, but god the 70gsm paper that they use is SUCH GARBAGE when it comes to inks wetter than a ballpoint pen. They do offer heavier paper - 100-200gsm weight - but only in extremely expensive, large, or difficult to find products.

Leuchtturm 1917 produces great sketching books and, if you get their 120gsm notebooks, they hold up to inks fantastically. Their standard notebooks come in 80gsm paper, and that does hold up to fountain pen ink much better than Moleskine, but while you do get much less feathering and bleeding, there is still some bleedthrough with wetter pens.

Now, if you want the finest fountain pen paper I've found in a notebook format, you want Maruman's Mnemosyne 183. It's also an 80gsm paper, but it's treated and laid in such a way that there's no feathering or bleeding, even with a very wet fountain pen.

That said though, honestly the best notebook I have, in terms of accessibility, expense, and quality of paper, is a Brandz United notebook that I got for my birthday a few years back. It's not anything special, in terms of paper weight - I can't find anything concrete, but it feels like 80gsm to me - but it barely feathers and you need to really saturate the page for it to bleed through.