💀 weirdgirl zine 💜

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.