My 2021 resolutions, I guess?

Hey guys! So, normally I am not one to make resolutions–or a big deal out of holidays at all, to be honest. But I’ve been kind of wanting to make some just for fun this year!

New Year’s is probably my favourite holiday. I mean, for starters, it’s the only one where you don’t have to make a super fancy meal, or spend lots of money, or in general put in tons of effort if you don’t want to. (But there’s also plenty of room to do those things, if that’s more up your alley.) Everyone is always really hopeful and excited around this time of year, it means I don’t have to worry about Christmas until next year, and also, January is really dark and depressing, so it gives you something positive to focus on. Anyway, here are my resolutions!

Get my sleep schedule back in control

So, during quarantine my sleep schedule just flew completely out of control. I was going to bed at 2 or 3am, and it made me feel awful, but I’d structured my whole day around staying up that late, so it was a mess. Anyway, in the end I managed to get my shit together, and I maintained a strict “bed at midnight” rule throughout the summer. But over the first semester of school, everything fell apart a bit, and it’s not a good feeling. So I’ve been trying to put myself to bed earlier, and force myself to adjust to a more reasonable sleep schedule.

Be more punctual

I never thought I would become that person who’s always late, but I guess here I am. In my defense, I have a lot up in the air, and it’s hard to keep track of it all. So inevitably, even if I do a really good job at one or two things–I get my blog posts done early, I finish a podcast episode on time–I end up missing an appointment, being late for school, or forgetting about something I promised to do. Even if it’s not a big deal, I always feel super guilty, and beat myself up over ir. So this year, after I get my sleep schedule fixed, I really want to work on that.

Reach out to people

So, I have social anxiety–which is a really fun add-on to my regular anxiety, I love it. Anyway, because of that, I always get really shy about reaching out to people, online and in real life–even to just say I really like their work. I always feel like I’m being irritating, or wasting people’s time, or something? I don’t know. But if there’s anything I’ve learned about writing over the years, it’s that having real, meaningful connections with people in the community go a long way, and can be super mutually beneficial. And if I’m gonna make this work, I need to let other people know I exist.

Something that ties into this for me is also getting better at marketing. I understand some of the theory of how to sell your work to an online audience, but to be honest, I’m too shy to actually do the work involved with that, and I always feel like I’m being annoying and get really freaked out? And that’s not doing me any favours, so this year I want to learn about marketing. Even if I’m too awkward to apply it, I feel like it’s a good skill to have up my sleeve.

Find a good medication

So, this isn’t really something I can guarantee will happen, or control, and in part writing this is just a way of holding myself accountable. But! For years, I’ve been trying different medications, and for whatever reason none of them have worked. The medication I’m taking now is totally useless, the only reason I take it is because if I don’t, I’ll go into withdrawal. But I’ve been putting off calling the doctor about it for months, because I hate phone appointments. (And last time, my doctor had really bad reception, so while he was telling me how to go off my meds safely, I only could make out every fourth word.)

It’s really frustrating, and tedious, but it’s also something I need to do.

And that’s about it! Like I said, I don’t know if I’ll go through with any of this, but hopefully saying it in a somewhat public setting will force me to, a bit. Do you have any New Year’s resolutions? Let me know 🙂

Lots of love,



i write myself a love song, but it’s always about you in the end. about your christmas lights, and your weathered smile, about a thousand fever dreams drifting through my head.

but these eyes watching me; they are ruthless and bleeding, so i shut my mouth, and i blend into the the crowd, and i guess i let a bunch of strangers control me. like their puppet on a string, their favourite new instrument, or should i just call myself a plaything?

so i go home. i lock my throat inside the closet. i drink rainwater from my favourite mug, and the acid burns my tongue. you know i eat that shit right up. let some crazed-artist fantasy worm its way into my skull.

i make a necklace from teeth. live off strange conspiracy theories, and broken glass. believe me, i don’t understand it anymore than you do.

so i go home. and i write myself a river; craft a bridge of tired metaphors and panicked similes. i build skyscrapers in my mind, colour in the lines of a bustling metropolis, all on my own. and one day, i’ll dig myself a grave; build a coffin from strangers’ bones. i’m not a good person. i know.

but please, weave me a breathtaking eulogy. imagine something better, and craft the prettiest fairy tale from whatever is left of me.


sometimes, i can’t help but hate you, a little bit. because i’ve had enough of diplomatic wording, and glossing over this shit; and now there’s lightning in my chest; rose-red vision and heaving breath. because it’s not fair. i never wanted any of this; not your burning towers, not your fossilized skies.

so i write furious letters to no one. rip them up, and wait for the end to come. and you tell me it’s gonna be all right, but… what if it isn’t? what if this is all we get? what if i’m the one in a million, what if tomorrow i break like a teacup, in a hospital bed?


i sort the pieces of ceramic into some kind of strange mosaic on the floor. it’s fascinating, isn’t it? how they dig into my callused fingers, ring out like guitar strings, how the floor tilts sideways, and nothing fucking makes sense anymore.

so screw it all. give me pink princess dresses, give me lilac skies. give me cotton candy, and rollercoaster rides. and let me cry myself a river, let me spend hours painting out delicate pastel flowers on the walls. and you’d laugh, of course you would.

and if i’m pissing you off, good.


i forgot what time it is long ago. as i sway back and forth, the lights flicker, and glow. i don’t know where i am, or how to get home.

but i gave up yesterday on any of that bullshit. i just have to keep dancing. until my heels chafe, and bleed, and the soles of my shoes wear down to nothing.

and i scream, and shout, and cry, of course i do. but people are busy. people have lives. and in the grand scheme of things, i guess i’m pretty minute.

because they don’t seem to hear me. and when i shake their shoulders, the faces just melt and bleed together.

and now there’s death on my hands, and i don’t understand. i think the floor is spinning, and oh my god, this fog is fucking all-consuming.

forming nimbus clouds in my throat, it blows my metropolis to smithereens. i apologize profusely. let the disco lights fizzle, and fade out. what am i gonna do? i’m just a girl, just a gentle chickadee… and maybe i’ll have the whole world in my palms, but i don’t think i’ll ever be happy.

so i cry, and i cry, until my throat hurts, and my reservoirs are bone-dry. i collapse on the floor, and sleep the weeks away.

because who gives a shit about the background noise? about my shaking hands, and my burning eyes. it’s just a blip in history. and no matter what i do, someday, the world will forget me.

so i break down the doors with my bare hands. run down the street like my life depends on it, feel the adrenaline soar through my veins. let the rain mess up my hair, let the fresh air whisper through my lungs. it smells like car exhaust and plague.

but at least i’m alive. at least i made it out okay.

So, I accidentally posted this completely unedited on Friday, because I was really tired and distracted and forgot to double check, and WordPress’s scheduling system sucks. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed a much more coherent version of this piece!


i throw a temper tantrum at absolutely no one, alone in the kitchen with my uncooked pasta, and my canned vegetables. because i can’t do this again.

so i run the red light. so i’m late for work, so i’m running out of time, just like always. so i write on the bus, and watch couples come and go from the corner of my eye. they’re lost in their own world.

and i’m walking home on a cold autumn night, to watch sitcoms until 1am, and forget about my life, because why bother trying when you can’t win, right?

i stare wistfully at the new apartment buildings. squirrel away my earnings, and write my will early. check the news nonstop, and no shit i’m angry.

because the sunflowers are wilting. because my bones breaking away. and you lied, didn’t you? all those nights ago, when you held me close, and promised it was gonna be okay?

and now i’m alone in the kitchen, while the hurricane hits me. you call my stubbornness a gift, but it’s not, really.