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The Isolation Journals: Can I call this grief?
Day 1 of the Isolation Journals. While the feeling is specifically rooted in the global situation, it stretches out, connecting to a much earlier time.
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If I could erase this year from existence
This is how I’m ending 2019: anxious, sleepless, irrational, a ghost of the girl who entered the decade. A lot of what happened this year was my doing, yet somehow none of it was my fault.
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IRL, Lately: 11/11 and other synchronicities
In the spirit of “actual” blogging, some November activities: reading, writing, witchcraft and SMW Manila.
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Lion-hearted
I knew I’d want to check in and reflect on this day, every year, and pay attention to how quickly time flew, how unpredictable change arrived, and how fleeting all of it was.
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What color is your heart?
My blogging life began on the now-defunct Multiply.com, where I went through a phase of posting personality questionnaires and quizzes. There’s one still imprinted on my memory: what color is your heart? Mine, allegedly, was blue.
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Ten Updated Notes To A Fragile-Hearted Girl
Darling, we did it: we are truth-tellers.
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A letter for the bad times, written on the slightly better times
It’s always a music box version of Bach: Cello Suite No. 1. It’s the biggest reason I don’t mind the alarms. The second is because I set these reminders surprisingly during the weekend of a mental health emergency.
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I’ll never be famous—and I don’t know if that’s okay.
An introspective response to an op-ed by Emily Esfahani Smith “You’ll never be famous — and that’s okay.”