Sunday, September 23, 2018

Namaste
crying
laughing
sniling coughing


B/R/E/A/T/H/I/N/G///////

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Monday, November 7, 2016

OUM
Graveyards have always brought me peace. As I write here, knowing no one will read it unless compelled by the ghost of their teenage selves, I can't help but think that that, at least, has not changed.

I write here to lay to rest dark teenage me. All her fear, her depression, her romanticizing poison, her sacrifice for everyone but self... Let it fall back into the earth to recycle into what it once was: self-preservation, empathy, and imagination.

We think and dream so much of growing up, of transformation, of realizing potential. We never want to listen when they tell us it's an ongoing process, one we have to work through every day.

I started writing this blog when I was eleven years old. I am 23 now, and I can say that there is no such thing as growing up without reflection and release of what no longer serves us.

If you find any truth to this, may it serve you.
If you find no truth in it, then let it fall to the ground with the leaves.
Go safely on your journey, friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~SUTNAM~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Friday, January 22, 2016

There are worse things than being alone. I wish I knew how to say it better.
But loneliness isn't the worst feeling--the absence of feeling is.

You hate the person you love. You hate the person you become. It never seems to matter how perfectly everything started. No matter what, you seem to find yourself either going along with every little inane thing they do or say to avoid an argument or you build sanctuaries for yourself away from them: little bubbles of peace and fecundity to revitalize yourself. You take longer and longer to get home from work or school. You stop at the library or the coffee shop on the way. You read adventure novels and magazines and sip coffee you barely taste. Slowly. Always slowly. because you know when you get home, you'll drown in gray. It won' be their fault. They'll just be gadding on about Fallout or Facebook. But his voice has become the house of your stagnation. You're suffocating on your own claustrophobia. You'll get out whether you mean to or not.
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Monday, August 17, 2015

Oh, this place! The center for Weeabu's before there were weeabus.

At the risk of sounding like a basic white bitch, I wish we all could just get along. I hate it when people are in pain--and someone always is.

Baltimore is one of the most segregated cities in the country. Most people in the city have had some history of terrible mental disorders, especially among the poor. Because of the institutional racism of the '50s, '60s, and '70s, it hit the black and Hispanic population the hardest. The constant drug problems (Baltimore is heroin central) did not help. Now, there is a lot of built up resentment in the black community and some racism and/or "colorblindness" on both sides.

It all adds up into one sickening, tangled mess of tension and resolved issues.

I don't know anything about being black or gay or poor or starving or homeless. But I have watched people let their hatred boil them alive. Some people get off on anger.

I love you
Belinda
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Monday, March 9, 2015

Well, surprise: My universalist/agnostic boyfriend doesn't get me. As usual, I'm too Catholic. Too Lenten, too ritualistic, too manic, too me.
It happens every time.

This is one reason I friend-zoned him so hard when he first tried to get with me.I knew it would happen.

Looking back, I'm not sure why I never went out with Catholic boys. When I was younger, I was just narcissistic enough to believe everyone shared my worldview and as I got older, none of them were interested. To be fair, neither was I. Most guys who are raised Catholic don't stay Catholic. They lose patience with the structure and the discipline and rules.

The ones who did stay seemed constructing. Unsexy BDSM heroes. I guess that's what people assume about me, but I really don't think I'm that old-fashioned. I just need an hour by myself to pray/meditate every day, an hour for mass Sundays, fifteen minutes for Confession Saturdays. I also work and school on top of that, yes, but there's still time to talk and hang out.

And it's not like everything I think lines up perfectly with the church. I use birth control and would welcome the ordination of female priests.

But he's got his own specific paradigm though. Thinks he's God because nothing bad ever happened to him.

Other than the spirituality conflict we're good, but it's just such a huge thing for me.

I gotta get back to work, but I'll probably write more later.
ily
~Belinda




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Tuesday, January 20, 2015

BE STILL, MY HEART!!!

Met my supposed doppelganger at work back in October. I have the oddest sense of dread and attraction towards him which culminates in my acting like either a skittish cat or a super aloof version of myself. He's turning 32 next week. I'm 21.
In other words, I probably wouldn't act even if we were both single.

Nevertheless.
Got to chat with him today whilest cleaning classrooms and computer labs. It was a pretty uneventful and intermittent conversation as I try to keep all conversations between us. I found out he does not like Baltimore, his birthday is next week, his parents got divorced when he was 6 or 7, his mother was a school teacher, his father was an electrician, he spent the holiday in Myrtle Beach (South Carolina) with his wife, daughter, father, and grandparents, and his wife is one of 12.

For some reason, typing all this out helps calm me down.
I've been uncontrollably shaking ever since the conversation. Emotions are so weird.
Time for songs to help prove I'm not weird and at least someone out there feels the same way I do.


There.
Sort of.
Idk.
Close enough.
ily
~Belinda
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Friday, January 9, 2015

Mental breakdowns are so expensive these days.$100 dollars for one trip to the suicide watch room. Healing isn't free. Love isnt free. Clarity never was.
Don't be sad, people. Trust me. You can't afford it.

I used to wish for death
Now that's not enough.
I wish I was never born in the first place.
I lost my credit card. I lost my confidence... or rather watched it get murdered.
I lose everything. I trash, I ruin everything. Why God still lets me breath I don't know. Makes me wonder if He's up there at all...
I want to die. I want to die. I want to vanish.
Funerals are over a thousand dollars. My family cant afford that. I guess now is as good a time as any to get life insurance....
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Monday, December 15, 2014

Update: Chris is now living with me and my parents. He works at Royal Farms (convenience store chain) and goes to school at a community college in the area.

I am currently working two jobs. My first is at RiteAid and my second is in the AV department of University of Baltimore, where I go to school.

It's not a perfect life. I still have existential crisis every other hour. But it's a little less lonely now.
If anybody's reading this: how are you doing?
ily
~Belinda
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Friday, September 5, 2014

Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Fuck
Everything.

"I am fearfully and wonderfully made." Yeah. But I can fearfully and wonderfully un-make myself with a single breath--sometimes even a lack of one. I ought to be a fucking case study.

You know the drill (don't you?) You build yourself up, make promises to be better than you are, to defy your sorry self through sheer will power, and in the midst of all this humanistic determination and optimism you walk out of a building without something essential, thus proving you are and most probably will always be the same incompetent accident of a person you always were.

I know it's only my purse. I know it's locked up at work safe and sound and I'll be able to get it first thing in the morning. I know it could happen to anybody--but I let it happen to me. Again.

Maybe it was just the timing of the whole thing. I signed a mental contract with myself that I'd do better in school, join a club or an honor society, meet new people, get more involved with my school's community-or at least more involved with my own life. You know. Like an adult. Like the thing I'm supposed to be at 21 fucking years old. Turns out, I can't even be trusted to remember to take my purse with me when I leave work.

I have no idea who I am anymore.

Ily


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Wednesday, May 14, 2014

I just found out that someone very close to me is beginning to lean towards homosexuality. He doesn't know yet whether he's gay, straight, or bisexual. I still love him, obviously, and to be honest I always kind of suspected. I still can't help but be surprised though.

I don't know. I'm worried about him. He's been very anxious and distressed lately.

Pray for him with me? Please?
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