Should I talk if I have nothing to say?

Sunday, April 20th, 2025

I am a lonely room with hollow walls. The room is often a mess inside. Objects of desire, of immense beauty, of story and of travel, colossally piled, collecting dust, and I apologize aloud as I head to rearrange.

This thing keeps happening when I am stressed. It wreaks havoc on my body, and I deal with the pain while thinking happy thoughts. I go to the ocean in France. I think about my new, small boobs. I think about repeating a movie the second it ends.

My house is a mess but it’s a pretty one at least. Most of it. I have boxes from packages I received months ago. I don’t know why it is such a difficulty to throw them away.

I only sit on one side of the couch. My brass table is decorated with crumbs and wrappers and mugs half-filled with tea, two abandoned books.

It was a busy week. I chose to skip my writing day to go to secondhand stores with my sister and my mom. I skipped my filming day because I got a chemical peel and my skin was peeling off. Today I would have liked to film, but it is Easter, although that barely means anything this year.

I told myself it was okay and I’d pick back up next (this) week, but I am feeling my energy slip away from me, ribbon on ice. I am trying, but I am so tired. I feel like I am failing the people who found me, who finally gave my art a chance, and now I can’t keep up. I want to beg you to stay while promising that the art will be good. It will have been worth it. But if you saw the state of me in my exhaustion, maybe you wouldn’t believe it. I will offer you a flower if you will stay.

Flowers:

Pink lipliner

charcoal

Wool

Book club

movie recommendation from an aunt - The Pianist

mom laughing

carrot cake