💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

ever have diarrhea so bad that you had to hold your ass cheeks together? i havent but i just heard someone on naked and afraid say it after eating some bad food but wouldnt just sealing your cheeks shut compound matters… that does nothing for your sphincty… so wouldnt you just end up shitting through your squeezed cheeks and squeezing hands... welp im not even going to be mad at it… too mentally exhausting.

In the noise of the everyday, I can lose touch with my true self, my inherent worth, and my ability to discern what truly benefits me. And I suspect many of you reading this understand. As a highly sensitive person, I know I'm not alone. It's not just physical distractions. The endless scroll of social media, societal pressures, and the carefully curated perfection of others' lives create a deafening cacophony that drowns out our true selves. Everywhere we turn, negativity vies for our attention. We overthink, exhausting ourselves in the process. It feels like a war against our self-esteem, our hearts, and that fragile reserve of positivity we all try to nurture. The constant pressure to keep up, the illusion of perfect lives… noise and drama. It suffocates our true selves, and I understand if you feel the same overwhelming sense of being lost in the noise.  This constant chaos and negativity are unacceptable. We deserve better. The solution? Choosing silence. Finding p...

It doesn’t matter what you’re looking for: friends, a relationship, a job, or someone to play DnD with: breadcrumbing sucks… The constant questioning, the hope that flickers and dies, the agonizing wait for a text that never comes. And then, the ultimate betrayal: ghosting. I've been ghosted, not once, but twice, by the same fuckboy. The audacity! This experience heaped trauma onto me that I might never recover from honestly. The person in question spent years tormenting me. I want to say “it taught me so much” or “it made me a better person,” but honestly that’s the total opposite of what happened. I am worse for every bit of it. All it taught me is that nobody is even half as decent as I think they’re going to be. It’s hard to shift from having that faith to having none. Maybe faith will come back around someday, I don’t know. I don’t see it happening. But I haven’t had any free March 18ths in a good while. When I get one, maybe I will feel differently. Anyway, just remember we...

Living with porphyria has taught me that vulnerability is both a strength and a weakness. It's a strength because it allows me to connect with others on a deeper level, to share my experiences, and to share support with and for those who feel me. But it's also a weakness because it makes me vulnerable to judgment, exploitation, and fetishization. People can be cruel, and differences are often mocked or exploited. I've had people ridicule me during the day and then hit me up for sex at night, drawn to the "vampire" mystique. The hypocrisy is mind-blowing. It's forced me to build walls and be cautious about who I let into my life. Being seen as a disabled person, or a mysterious sexy vampire… these things make me constantly doubt my own self-worth. Why am I only special for my illness? Why am I reduced to a fetish? It's a constant battle to maintain my sense of self in a superficial world. But I refuse to let the ignorance and prejudice of assholes define me...

spent the whole day in a waiting room, waiting to dieeeeee. transition month, bubs. mild with some rain early on, but later it’s drier and brighter — spring starting to show its face. the light’s different and my sacred place tingles a little when the sun comes through. huzzah 💔 i’m working on a necklace with a glass heart pendant. green and brown beads, opalescent thread. the heart looks like it’s full of syrup. my hands smell like metal and glue. writers group asked how a friend can make things right after a fight. “an apology is a good start but you also have to make it up to the person,” i wrote. nobody likes hearing that. candy elle texted me a photo of phyllis with wings drawn on her. it made me laugh — my rabbit, the tiny queen of space. i keep her picture taped to the lamp now. i’m still drinking caffeine and taking pills. still telling myself: finish this row, finish this day. 

Let me confess: I overwax the fuck out of my board. Like a coconut scented sugared donut. Sex wax city! was sticky everywhere, especially in the chest area, and when I tried to move mid-wave, I legit couldn’t shift. Katelyn saw it and was like, “You waxed your stomach zone?? Rookie, grom, kook... whyyyyyy.”  okay bitch :) I know, I know, you want wax where your hands and arms go. I also add a lil wax near my left hip since I grip from the right side (goofy side supremacy 4 lyfeeee). But too much up too locked in place like a pissed-off statue.  Couldn’t even adjust to turn that well. Couldn’t super be arsed to scoot. Lesson learned. targeted wax is a secret weapon. It’s mystical sex wax rune placement, strategized well... i am not larping as a psychopath toddler with a glue stick. Just enough wax to grip. Not enough to trap Lepus and my torso in a wax coffin. I scraped it down with a sufboard comb and spiritually repented to my beautiful board. Never again. Remember not to ove...

i’ve dealt with anxiety, depression, chronic illness, poverty, a fucking terrible rare disease that makes people view me as a freak. but somehow, i’m still here making shitty jokes about it while i meditate. meditation isn’t necessarily just spiritual - it can be fully secular. it’s a tool, one you can use to stop spiraling when you’re three seconds away from hiding under the bed to scream and/or cry. meditation isn’t mystical magical shit, it’s more like a reset button for your brain. even a few minutes of sitting with your chaos can make the dumpster fire seem less flammable. think of it as a mental poop knife: it cuts through the gunk clogging up your head, much the way a poop knife would clear your overflown terlit. nothing fancy is needed. you just need five minutes and the willingness to not punch yourself in the ass for wandering thoughts. that’s it.  model: candy elle loves self-caring with a deeeeelicoous cup of earl grey, hot, like she learned from her dad… who once confe...

  art is magic, pure and simple. anything one makes can be art, even just an everyday turd in the toilet. maybe it’s an artistic turd. you don’t know. it's the alchemy of transformation, the power to turn pain into beauty, darkness into light, chaos into meaning. it's the process of making something out of nothing, of finding order in bullshit, of creating a world that reflects my unique vision. this is my legacy, my contribution to the universe, my vibrant, messy, beautiful masterpiece. it’s prob a lot of shit too, but who knows. i’ll shoot my wad into the void, maybe it’ll be a bill & ted kinda dealie and inspire a whole new society. or not.

batman isn't just a franchise; it's a religious experience. i want everyone to agree to make it the new bible of our confusing modern times. there's something about the gotham universe that gets under my skin. it's not just the plot, though the plot is fantastic. it's the atmosphere, the way dc crafts the lore, all the things moving below the surface & characters all out to be number one… the subtle hints & foreshadowing...it's masterful. i'll probably tell this joke ad nauseam because that's how much i love it. seriously, i'm a geek for it cuz i've never connected on this level. it speaks to the darkness within us all, even the good guys have the same parts of ourselves we try to hide. batman isn't a superhuman; he's just a flawed asshole of a dude like us who's making it happen.💜

gurrrrls, grab your altar plates and brace yourselves — it’s about to get meaty in here. i see footlong frank rolling up, heavy loaded and dripping with weenz like he’s come to bless us with the ultimate feast. that man never disappoints. 🙌🏻 this year? he’s doubled down — a glorious mountain of meat piled high, and the whole circle rises up, erupting into a chorus of hallelujahs and amens. jill steps forward, leading us in the sacred prayer: “dear franky, we thank thee for this bountiful spread. may these weenz fuel our fiery souls tonight as we weave our tales of fuckboy folly. and we pray — oh, how we pray — for even greater meats ere next fuckboy dawn.” gratitude expressed, franky swings into action, passing out the goods. i swear, dirty dan almost shed a tear witnessing this sacred tradition in full glory. the fire crackles louder, the heat rising as our feast is laid bare. now — storytime, bitches. let those tall tales of terror and triumph flow while we choke down franky’s lege...

tarot card: the tower -- sudden change, upheaval, revelations. getting fed up with the unreliable pizza guy who always arrives late or with the wrong order. it’s like, dude, you’re an analogy for everything wrong with this city -- flaky, disappointing, and smellin’ like an ass-free palace… where no one owns their shit.  zoid’s behavior is dumb. he kept making jokes about “too many skins in the mashed potatoes” -- gaggy diarrhea dubstep tier. i bet his breath still smells bad, just like his nephew said that one time xd.  moneybags is weirdly on our side buuutttttt janet is suspicious of her. the breaking point for me was when zoid bullied people -- specifically ole bawby -- over who is a bigger breaking bad fan. i’m done with that horseshit. buckle this.

Dating advice for the chronically ill? Hm let’s see… the biggest is not to let randos zap your energy. Don't date dicks: move on quick. Life's too short to waste on soulless assholes, especially when you've got limited energy due to a blood factory that's being churlish. The dating pool is filled with people who give you blueborlz without ever satisfying. Learn to recognize energy vampires early or you'll end up with some joik who makes his mom drive you to the store to get condoms, condoms, condoms and brags to her like he's in a locker room. Wahw!!! It sucks being rejected and used, but sometimes things b work okay if the person is nice. These moments make wading through disappointments worthwhile. You can have some good friends and partners in crime. But always remember: being single is infinitely better than dating someone with the personality of a Bristol scale 1 and/or 7. Neither constipation nor diarrhea can be fun or healthy all the time.

this gorgeous mineral is dripping spiritual journey protection like nobody's business! it's filled with meditation clarity, & that’s kinda like having your own personal guru in stone form. when you pair it with sapphire, you're getting that crown chakra energy that'll have your third eye jizzing love & light. mix amethyst with garnet & you're balancing those spiritual vibes with some slow-burn healing. at 7 on the mohs scale, this stone is tough enough for all your mystical shit while keeping your spirit vibes aligned. its calming energy is perfect for when you're feeling some depresh or need some mental clarity. i used faceted amethyst beads on this chunky, bezel-set amethyst bracelet for a bold wrist stack. {wrist stack total: 30-45 tcw, by qu33ni3}

still cool and damp outside, occasional rain tapping the windows. slightly milder toward the end tho, still wintery but starting to ease — like the weather’s tryna decide if it wants to commit to spring or nah 🌧️ still February. still deliciously dark. i moved my workspace to a different table but it’s the same clutter, same tools. i’ve started making little travel bead kits for friends. it helps me feel useful. candy elle called just to vent about gossip at the castle. i told her people who gossip are compensating for lack of their own lives. she laughed, said she’d quote me. writersgroup asked if i’m still awake. “it’s three days later,” i wrote back. “here i am, conscious as a waking person.” that’s how it feels: days blur. nights are heavier. i hold beads in my palm like worry stones. sometimes i think about my ex. not in a longing way, just in a trauma way. then i drill another hole and keep going.  

in deb's meat locker, we were crafting a film - & building an artistic vision in layers and dimensions, for multiple projects. audrey, aka naked meathook girl #3, was a performer and a critical piece of our creative puzzle. she wasn't supposed to do anything but wiggle and scream, but those takes were brutal. fitting was tense, blood kept needing to be reapplied, screaming became tedious. but audrey was a bad bitch, powering through each moment with determination. had to go for precision in every detail. a flesh-tone unitard was the uniform of the meathook girls - fun fact: sometimes in a nude scene, peeps wear a flesh tone body stocking. especially critical when managing naughty bits or those free-floating elements, any liquidy things like blood or other dripppppz. mike g's makeup was magic. the horror one was more monochrome, with pale pink lips designed so the blood would pop. the special effects team had their own delicious secret sauce. i added my signature touch -...

  for some people, authenticity is big and loud and obvious. for others, it’s quieter — almost secret. mine shifts depending on the day. it’s rarely tidy. for me, being real means doing an internal inventory. like scanning the storage chests in my minecraft base — what do i actually have? what parts of me are usable today? what’s been gathering dust? i work with what’s there. not the highlight reel. the scraps, the wonky bits, the stuff i wish i could trade in — that’s part of it too. there are days when authenticity looks like soft clothes, canceled plans, and sitting with a feeling before deciding what it even is. there are days when it looks like stillness, not statements. it’s not curated. it’s not crafted for approval. it’s just all of me showing up — even the odd, inconvenient, hard-to-summarize parts. and that realness in its shifting, glitchy form is the thing that reminds me i’m not pretending to be here... i actually am here.

your first meditation is going to feel like chasing a fart in the wind. stick with it! the struggle is real: let’s get one thing straight: meditation is hard. your brain is going to fight you like a stubborn toddler. you’ll sit down, close your eyes, and immediately remember that embarrassing thing you said in 1803. that’s normal. meditation is about showing up even if you suck. new things are often weird, like new shoes or learning to ride a bike. but when you learn how to use it, you can go to cool new places. even if meditation isnt mind blowing the first time you use it, stick with it. the payoff is worth it.

life's a mega piece of assbust sometimes. trauma, mental illness, a bod that feels like it's in a zombie apocalypse... & let's not forget ableist asshats who can't handle my sicccness or my thicccness. but amidst the chaos, i like to write. it's my therapy, my escape, my creative outlet. it's how i process the world's narsty side effects on my lovely personality 😂 & find those little nugz of sweetness. i don't write for validation; i do it bexause there’s so much stuff in me. my writing is a potent mix of high & low culture – think rockstar black cocktails with a dash of grey goose. we put the potty humor up on the same shelf as the shakespeare. it’s raw, honest, & maybe a little bit terlit centric… i'm not trying to shock; i'm just being myself. if you connect with it, cool. if not, that's cool too. there's plenty of other stuff out there. but if you're looking for something a little different... well, you might...

my friend, don't starve is batshit bonkers nuts mcguts. the gory art style is giving me major edward gorey vibes.. hah get it? 🤪 the world is full of surreal, unexpected dangers - you never know when something will beat your virtual anus. i'm forevz on edge trying not to die from the haunted hounds, spider creeps, & freaky shadow insanity monsters. and those sweetie bunny mens and pigs mens! this game will have you cussing up a storm when you die again. it's even harder than slay the princess. the real-time fighting stresses me out cuz everything tries to kill your ass!!  my most memorable moment was finally building an epic fantasy hellscape base. i was so proud of my progress since i usually just end up a hot-ass mess before getting brutally murdered, but instead i set it on fire accidentally, and my ex refused to ever play with me again.  don't starve challenges me on a whole other level. are you gonna starve kid? or are you gonna survive?