to the first game 🏒
this is a disorganized little tribute to something that already slipped away. the team was weird — chaotic, thrown together, mismatched. but somehow, beautiful in its own way. we played hard. we laughed. and then we had our first lunch together. which also became our last. that was it. no promises. no next time. just…
Acceptance as Survival
There’s nothing I can do but accept everything that comes my way. Part of me tries to stay rational when life swerves: “Things happen for a reason,” I remind myself. But most of me defaults to fight mode — craving, raging, questioning, spiraling. Recently, something small but sharp hit me again. After the joy faded and the…
slowing down when the world doesn’t wait for anyone
It’s been three four months since my last birthday blog. I still haven’t changed my site icon — it’s stuck at 23. The world keeps moving forward, second by second. Maybe that’s the only evidence I need: that it’s time to slow down, and look within. me, myself, i, july 8th, 2025 (august 15th now…
answers for 22, questions for 24
tl;wr: so. 22-year-old me asked a bunch of deep, existential shit like she wasn’t emotionally unstable. 23-year-old me lived through a year of mental gymnastics and character development arcs. now 24-year-old me has circled back like, “sup loser, i got some answers (and more trauma lol).” also threw new questions into the void for future…
The Chaos of Becoming
Every day, my soul screams: “OMFG I WANT FUN.” I need structure to thrive, but the moment that structure hardens into a predictable routine, I feel a deep, stomach-wrenching sickness—the kind that seeps into my bones, making me want to fling myself into the most reckless, dopamine-chasing choices just to feel alive again. Five years ago,…
Emotional Overload, but Make It Cute
TLWR: Emotions are a mess, and it’s tough to observe them when I’m caught up in them. Feelings are complicated, and I’m still figuring out how to let them just be. Thanks ChatGPT for not sponsoring this uh… blog. 873 words, 5 minutes read time. You know, I used to say, “I hate emotions.” It…
The funeral parlor
The day before I was to leave, a phone call shattered the quiet of my afternoon—my grandmother (Dad’s side) had passed away, aged 96. The following day, I found myself stepping into a funeral home for the first time. There’s a distant, blurred memory of another visit long ago, but it’s so faint it almost…
19til29 