Mind Vomit

Rambly thoughts and snippets of sickness

Love, in three parts


I am Jupiter’s unending storm;
gravity keeps me spinning.

When you are near my ocean-heart is calm
You are the god that stills my waves.

You are the vast black empty,
a blanket
on my shoulders.

So my boyfriend has found a house. He will be moving in June, and I will be joining him in September.

I am equal parts excited and terrified.

There is so much I have to do still and it’s all piling on my shoulders like a mountain. I want to hide from it in my bed but it will find me there eventually. The only solution is to face it like an adult. I am still not convinced I am an adult but I have to act like one or everything will go to pieces.

I should go outside more. I should smoke less. I should wake up before 2. I should eat properly. Baby steps. One thing at a time.

So, next week, I have to:

1. email my school advisor and figure out what classes I still need to take

2. look over my work schedule and see if I can fit an art history class in this summer

3. Make a hypothetical budget for when I move out so I know how much money I need to be making.

That seems doable. Right? I can do this.

I don’t feel good.

And I am not sure why. I do have some theories, but there is no way of knowing which, if any, is the root cause.

I am having some thoughts that are probably irrational, but because whenever I think them I am repulsed by their stupidity, I find it very difficult to express them. My cognitive processes are tending toward the negative lately. Instead of negating maladaptive or illogical thoughts with truth or reason, I negate them with more negativity. This is not productive. 

Here is an example.

Initial feeling: I am upset because my family went out to dinner without me, and without asking if I could or wanted to attend. 

Reactionary thought: That is stupid. You often disappear for nights or days without telling them where you are. They have no obligation to invite you anywhere. You are blowing this out of proportion. You have no right to feel upset. Stop it. This is such a trivial thing to be upset about. 

So you see, none of this is very rational. I have not yet figured out how to make it better. I have this suspicion that my general feeling of malaise has an internal cause, and I attribute it to small daily occurrences because then I have something other than myself to blame. Maybe when my medication is refilled it will improve on it’s own.

Run on sentences

2 in the morning twitching can’t-sleep fingers at the keyboard to the dulcet tones of Regina Spektor

finding new ways to blur my vision as the room spins the room the room spins it spin-in-in it spins. 

I think maybe my loneliness is a lie but I am blinded by it.

Note to self

I think I’ve had a realization but it may just be insomnia-induced madness, or chemically-induced madness, or some other sort of madness I have yet to discover, so I think I’ll write it down and we’ll see how I feel about it in the morning. The realization is this: getting pissed off at people for things they enjoy is a shitty thing to do. Unless the thing they enjoy is hurting someone, such as rape or abuse or you get the idea. But when it comes to harmless things like music or poetry or literature, and by harmless I mean things that are not made to cause hurt, people should be allowed to enjoy whatever they want. It is so easy to feel superior, to think your opinions are the only right and true thing. Do not forget that there are many truths, not just yours, and also that most truths are changeable. You must be patient with people. You must let them have whatever joy they can. You must learn to have joy also.

DISCLAIMER (because this is the internet): I do not support animal abuse or dismemberment.
A little bit of practice for a large scale painting which will be the most gory and unsettling thing I have ever made, if all goes as planned. Because fuck art school.

Every time I try to work on art for school I start to cry

and panic and my thoughts tell me I am an awful artist and I don’t belong here and this is the wrong choice, all of my ideas are shit and I will fail and even if I don’t fail none of it will mean anything and then I want to burn everything I’ve ever made and burn my house and sit in the middle of it until my skin melts and I can no longer separate my fingers.


Everything is pretty okay.

That is all.

A public service announcement

I am not okay

Do not panic

Please continue your lives

as though nothing has changed

Everything will probably

be okay.

I build friendships like card houses

conversations balanced on the thinnest edge

one breath and it will collapse

a mess of words and meanings



I build friendships like sand castles

waiting apprehensive for the tide

new hallways already crumbling

every piece resisting