oh, meme madness. i think i’m only doing this one, and i swear it will be the last, because it was the first time i’ve been properly tagged, by claire. (and claire, i’ll tell you how to link if you tell me where the hell my title bars have gone. fucksnatch.)

I’m thinking about: what music i should listen to; what the hell do i have against taking advil when my cramps get so feckin bad already?; grolsch; the two stories i have sitting at the top of my brain; do i have time to do a full hour of yoga, write, and clean my apartment before i crash?; mustn’t forget about doctor’s tomorrow; i should set my alarm before i forget – i always forget; i miss john, and met.
I said: (internal thought – does this mean my own personal sayings? what does this mean?) the last thing i said, sadly, was to my cat bean: i said, and i quote, “you’ve seen me take hundreds upon thousands of baths before. why do you get so upset?”
I want to: actually spend a full day with my boyfriend, from waking up together to going to sleep together, without one of us being distracted or stressed out or called away. it’ll happen, but i just want it to be soon.
I wish: it was two weeks from now, when met and i will be in *****, far away from everybody.
I hear: my granny of a computer whirring in the background. bjork’s debut album, specifically human behaviour. the front door of my building closing. cars on the street outside. my own breath.
I wonder: about how all the beautiful things in life encompass both joy and pain, simultaneously.
I regret: not being able to let go of my insecurity and trust already.
I am: incredibly stubborn; frustrated by injustice; inclined to conspiracy theories; passionate; fierce; achingly vulnerable only in front of a few people.
I dance: when i have a few in me. i love to, but i’m extremely self-conscious about the way my body moves.
I sing: when i’m alone.
I cry: pretty much every time i think of my mother; when i get frustrated, or too angry; every time i do physio.
I’m not always:…i put on a big show, a lot of the time. i’m not always the show.
I make with my hands: paintings, cards, clothes, ugly dolls, zines.
I write: because i have to. my blood is ink.
I confuse: myself. in quite the most literal sense, i think my body’s dyslexic.
I need: peace. the love and support of a few people (who know who they are). a good night’s rest.
And finally: i can’t quite believe that this is what being grown-up looks like.

i don’t have the heart to tag anyone (sorry, claire) but if you’d like to do this, i’m sure we’d love to read them.

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