~hiatus time~

Hey guys! This is honestly really not as big a deal as I’m making it out to be, but I just wanted to let you know that I won’t be posting on Monday. I’ve been trying to keep up honestly a somewhat ridiculous level of productivity, throughout the course of a year and a half now, and although I love this blog, it does get to be a lot.

I’m going to be having a sleepover with a friend this weekend, and I’ve decided that I really need to take a weekend off, so that is what I will be doing. I want to be able to really just enjoy spending time with her, without having to constantly be only half in the moment because I’m trying to keep up with deadlines and post on Instagram or whatever.

Your normal posting schedule will return next Friday, and I might be releasing a little secret project I’m very excited about pretty soon as well, we’ll see. You all are amazing, and thank you so much for all the support you’ve given me. I’m not giving up on this blog, just taking some time away from it. ❤

Lots of love,



hold my hand. dress my wounds in white lies and false confidence. go ahead. butter me up. make me pancakes for breakfast; drizzle syrup over gentle clouds of whipped cream. kiss me on the forehead.

bind my stories together with borrowed time, and scraps of thread. walk for miles through the stormy weather, and say it’s love. but we both know your intent.

sit beside me on those long, cold nights by the fire. and i think i could just stay by your side forever…

because if i sunbathe in the archipelago of your eyes, i am cleansed of my regrets. so tie me up to the sailboat, and shove a gag in my mouth right where it’s supposed to be. let the sirens sing their song; let them come for me.

because in this pretty red dress, all i know is that you love me. tonight. and i am so desperate to forget…

Sometimes, I get tired of honesty.

Growing up, I always asked people not to shelter me–told them that I could handle it. And so they told it to me, just like it was. No matter how much it hurt. There was a certain pride I felt, in being able to survive subjecting myself to insults, or reading about things I was far too young to know about. In retrospect, I wish I could have just stayed blind for a few more years, blissfully ignorant.

But despite all that talk of honesty and transparency, I’m definitely not immune to using denial as a coping mechanism. With a brain like mine, sometimes I just have to ignore what’s going on around me, and put all the bad things in a little box, so I can keep functioning until they’re over, and then maybe I’ll be able to sit down and process it.

But of course, the only issue with that, is that eventually, all those icky bad emotions just build up into this giant nightmare of sadness and anger and guilt that just weighs down on me. Which is kind of where I’m at now, honestly. I’m so tired of having to patch it up with white-lies and dodge around awkward conversations, both with other people and myself–but I also don’t think I can handle the full extent of what a mess I am right now.

Lots of love,


a really angry poem

fuck you. and every grain of love you’ve given me. fuck my hopes, and dreams, and all the things i want to be so desperately.

fuck this world, for screwing me over. because i might be the last generation it ever gets to see. and there’s something so fundamentally messed up about knowing that, right from the start… that the world is shit, and i’m probably gonna die… but hey. i mean, someone had to do it, right?

fuck the mess in my room. fuck the mess in my head. because no matter how hard i try, i still can’t make sense of it. and i still don’t want to leave this bed…

fuck my to-do list. fuck getting up at 5am for some strangers on the internet. fuck the sun, burning into my retinas, and dry-swallowing my meds. i’m done.

because you know what the worst part is?

sometimes, i hate myself even more than i hate all of this.

I try to be calm. I try to be chill and mellow. I try to put other people first no matter what, and only show my frustration when I can’t take it anymore. In my head, I am that person—your nice, submissive, agreeable daughter.

But honestly, in reality, that’s not who I am at all. I get emotional really easily. A lot of the time, I bite off more than I can chew. And I don’t know if this is just a me thing for not, but my stress can very, very quickly turn to anger. After a lot of therapy, I have learned to control it almost all the time. Scream in pillows, write it out, etc. But sometimes, it just overtakes me. Controls every part of me. This tidal wave of self-hatred and sadness and fury, over something as little as having trouble coordinating plans with somebody, or my cat throwing up on my carpet, or a flunked test. And suddenly, it’s all too much.

And I know, that’s not exactly the healthiest way of coping. But right now, I’m not really sure what else to do. I guess I just feel a lot of things, honestly—and it’s both my greatest strength and my Achilles heel. (And also, probably a bit of a teenager thing, I guess.)

Lots of love,



In this episode, I talk bad days, self-care (and how impossible it feels sometimes), and everything else that was on my mind as of March 18th, 2020.

Song is “So Sunrise” by Mike Durek (mikedurek.com). It is found here (https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Michael_Durek/Piano_Music_for_The_Broken_Hearted_1221/08_So_Sunrise_Electric) and used according to this license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/.
It has been edited by me.

“Mimos Menguados” from patrickdeartegea.com

Need to talk to anyone? Find a crisis line in your area here: https://www.suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

All songs have been edited by me.

All sound effects made by yours truly! 🙂

The next episode will be dropping next Friday, 9a.m. PDT–make sure to subscribe/follow/add this podcast to your library/enable notifications on it to be notified when it comes out.
Find me on all my internet places here: https://linktr.ee/goldfishandthemicrophone

loneliness is a messy bedroom

smooth the paints onto the palette with a butter knife. deep breath. let the blinding shades of pink slowly drown you. you’ve created a monster, haven’t you?

deep breath. pick up your paintbrush. and with trembling fingers, dip it in your strange amalgamation colours.

close your eyes. think of a picture. think of the bloodbaths in your mind; the jellybean oceans rising higher and higher… deep breath. press the brush to the canvas.

keep your lines straight and clean. gather up your mistakes on a sheet of scrap paper. ignore your texts as they come in.

and you don’t remember; when the tears started falling. but maybe it doesn’t matter. so just mix it all together, as you cry yourself an ocean of oversaturated colours…

rip apart the canvas, wheatgrass stalks of hesitation whispering through your traitorous hands. don’t listen.

look those carnivorous waves, with their drooling currents and gnashing tides. meet them right in the eye. take one last, deep breath….

lie down on the sand. and surrender yourself.

I’m introverted. I have social anxiety. And since we’re in the middle of a global pandemic, even though where I live restrictions are starting to loosen–it’s not like I’m going to school every day or something. For the most part, I’m just stuck in my room, which is kind of what it was like even before lockdown anyhow.

In theory, sure, I could go for bike rides or walks to places outside of my tiny suburban neighborhood. I could try new things–it’s not like there isn’t plenty of stuff I could safely do, in theory. For God’s sake, I could do anything other than spinning around on my little mental hamster wheel for days on end.

But, of course, I don’t do any of those things. Because honestly, it feels like… too much effort. Because I “don’t have the time”, or whatever other lies I try to tell myself.

But at the end of the day, the truth is… I’m scared. I always have been. And I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. Because most days, all of my energy goes toward just barely surviving–cooking and cleaning and working, rinse and repeat. Not a lot of room left for hobbies, or having any kind of life, actually.

I’m trying to take it in baby steps, though. One scary thing at a time. I’m tired of my world being this myopic. Which is progress in its own way, I suppose.

Lots of love,