mckenzington

Well, I had a cigarette today. I can’t find my stupid vape, so I’m just saying it didn’t count. I was reading back my posts and realized that on April 3rd I said I had quit cigarettes - and it admittedly is written with some dramatic conviction that I only vaguely remember having - but that honestly didn’t last very long. I quit for real awhile ago. And now I’m confessing my sin today.  I’m typing this on my phone because I’m moving and my laptop is dead. I have this constant discomfort, like a hamster in a cage that’s too small. I can’t stand having some of my things in one apartment and some in another. Lima is mirroring my restlessness. But it’ll all be done tomorrow, and I’m just glad I’m not doing it alone.  One thing I know but have a hard time accepting is that I really hate living alone. I sometimes dramatically say that I CAN’T live alone, which just simply can’t be true. But I wouldn’t know, actually, because I’ve always lived either with my parents, or roommates, or dorm mat

it's really beautiful how, without fail, i tend to mourn past versions of myself. what i mean to say is, i'll look at an old photo of me and think of that me so fondly. i'll be so kind to her, and wonder where that me went. i'll say, "she was so pretty, she was so gentle, she was so intelligent. i'm a shell of her." i do this without fail every 6 months to one year. there are certain versions i like better than others. there are some that i look back on with the keen sting of hindsight, and laugh her off as a more naive but bright-eyed version of myself. the beauty of this is, these past versions of myself didn't always like the present edition. all i needed was time and wisdom for the self-loathing to fade away. i don't know what this says about me. lately my fixation has been my hair. i miss my long hair. it was fun and debaucherous and i want to be fun and debaucherous again. instead, in the words of charles darwin, i am very poorly and very stu

when i was a small child, i choked on a hard candy in the middle of a restaurant and my great aunt had to do the heimlich on me. my grandma absolutely lost her shit, acted like i was dying. i think that's probably why i thought i was. i remember having a very calm yet terrifying thought that i was gonna die if somebody didn't do something. the more i think about it, it's probably the closest to a near death experience i've ever had. what makes it more surreal is that i remember it so vaguely (probably because i was so young) that for a long time i figured i just made it up or dreamt it one night. no, it just faded, like all memories do. i sometimes think of my life as beginning differently after that incident. everything proceeding is A.N.D. (after nearly dying). since i started this era, i've had a complicated relationship with wanting to stay in it. but i actually quit cigarettes cold turkey about a month ago (i don't remember the exact date - just remember th

hello void. i am typing this post in mostly lowercase letters because: 1. chic acrylic nails 2. general laziness 3. I admittedly type with mostly two fingers anyway bc I hated typing class in elementary school and my whole life have been rebelling against what I felt was an oppressive five finger method.  also, dear reader, by general laziness i really mean general (major?) depression. i've really been into shock videos lately, which i think is just a form of self harm for me. it's like i'm trying to override the trauma i already have. but alas, i just get nightmares. it's effed up to type that out.... but i'm effed up at the moment. i have ze blues. and, as i write this blog, ze period cramps. so - no philosophy or poetry or revelry today. that's part of why i'm writing to you, dear void, because sometimes the tree just needs to fall in the forest and not give two shits whether anyone heard it. my go-to when in ze depression hole has historically been to ma