why i write (& why you might care)

By -

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 find it here.

Comments

Post a Comment

newest coolest hottest goss 🩸

evil department magazine: dirty deets

By -
Image
evil department magazine is a fictional name i use for a real magazine i worked for before California. the publication itself was an actual company and an authentic magazine. it wasn’t mainstream, but it was owned by a big magazine company, as a tiny subsidiary. had a dedicated online readership in the several-thousand range — enough to pay contributors and operate on weekly deadlines. the focus was a specific music scene centered in a few cities on and around the east coast of the United States, with additional international coverage. my work there shifted week to week. sometimes i wrote. sometimes i focused more on art or jewelry. sometimes it was split. i occasionally traveled, attended shows, and gathered crowd buzz as part of the reporting. the work, deadlines, and coverage were real. only the names have been changed.
more of this shit »

corpse lore!: scary mary and the monster she made

By -
Image
💜⭐️ once upon a time, there was this adorable goth queen. her name was mary. ⭐️💜 her full name was mary wallstonecraft godwin, a fun and fancy-free 18yo bad bitch. she loved to party and had a creative mind. one day she stuck w her extra-ass bf, percy bysshe shelley, whom my friends and i always liked to call percy fishjelly behind his back, cuz he stunted the wizard hat and his ween hygiene game was decidedly not on pernt. but our friend mary for some dumb reason, always saw something more in percy, idk! k so anyway our girl mary’s stepsis, claire claremont, wants to go to visit lord byron at his house so she can extend an invitation to her bone zone (noooo capppp claire legit wanted to fuuuuuck him!!). it was the year without a summer, thanks to some nearby volcano that took a massive, explosive shit. can’t even wear cute shorts - just drip instead w pure depresh and the lingering stench of eggy sulfur. soooooo they roll up to lake geneva because claire wants some lordy b pork swor...
more of this shit »

Silence Is Healing

By -
Image
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...
more of this shit »

Why Soulmates Are Fake As Fuck

By -
Image
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...
more of this shit »