I’m a mean person. I never intend to hurt people or go after them or do stuff that will made them upset, but somehow I always do. I offend people. I say things that hurt their egos. I talk about subjects everyone else wants to avoid.

I’m like a tornado ripping through a peaceful town; Unwelcome, hazardous, and leaving everyone worse off than before.

I’m a toxic person, and for years I’ve been trying to be better. But I’m still hurting the people I love and I don’t know why. I bite my tongue, but always after it’s too late. I’ve already done stuff, and like sometimes I really do think that everyone does better without me around. I wouldn’t want me around. I’m a whiny, crying little bitch who makes problems. I’d hate me too. I wouldn’t want to be my friend. God, I’m just a terrible person. Literally the worst.

I’m self-obsessed, over-dramatic, kinda bi-polar, judgemental, insecure. All of those things are really bad qualities. And instead of changing, I’ll just sit in bed and cry about it. Watch, That’s Exactly what I’ll end up doing.




Journal, Personal, Poetry

I am small, insignificant. I won’t have an impact on the greater world. Window down in the car at a stoplight, sun beating down on my face. Eyes closed. Hot breeze. The wind blows the same way on other planets, the wind on my face is only significant to me. It means nothing, there is no implication or indication of any sort happening. I am meaningless.

The here and now is an opaque gloss over my eyes.

Used to live believing everything had its significance, but it’s the exact opposite. We all live on the same planet with the same sun and with all our grievances trailing behind us.

Happiness is what we all strive for, but there’s not one time and place in our lives where we just start being happy. Happiness is a fleeting state of mind. Like the sunshine, one day it won’t exist at all.

I don’t even know


That boy will never understand how much he meant to me. Acting coolheaded, like I couldn’t care less. Yeah, you know how many guys I’ve been with since you? 10. 15. Fuck, maybe even 20.

But you know why that number is so high? I haven’t found someone who made me feel the way you did, and then you fucked my heart up.

I’d rather sleep around and drink and get high and destroy myself in the process than let someone hurt me the way you did again.

I fucking told my mom about you and a few weeks later you break up with me. Solid move. I just should never have said anything. I just felt so safe saying it, I felt like what we had was real or something dumb like that. I thought you know, his grandparents know. I spent thanksgiving with his family and my mom doesn’t even know about him.

You gave me every reason to think my mom should know. I WAS RIGHT FOR NOT TELLING HER. I FUCKING SHOULD NEVER HAVE.

There’s literally not enough liquor in the fucking world to make me feel better. And I haven’t had enough dick to forget.

That shit can’t heal this pain.

I loved you, and you acted like we were in middle school and that shit was no big deal. Like that would just happen again the next day.

I swear I’ll never trust another man again. I’ll never feel secure with someone again, not even if I’m married. Everyone leaves. Everyone moves on. Everyone thinks they can do better.

I’m still fucking suicidal. I’m alcoholic. I hate myself and wish this pain would end. Nothing helps me anymore.



I have a million things going through my head that are keeping me up tonight. Some are my nonverbal to-do list, some are the little recurring things that bother me.

I just need to get it all out so I can relax.

Last night I stayed over at Kyle’s dorm, and we almost had sex like three times. The first time we didn’t because his roommate came home, the last two times we didn’t because he was so nervous that he literally couldn’t stay hard. Like, his innocence is why I am attracted to him. He is so kindhearted and pure, I can’t imagine him hurting a fly. He’s got this soft face, he just looks like he’s inexperienced. I think that I might have intimidated him, I was just doing my thing. But ‘my thing’ is a little intense. Like, deep throating and biting and hair pulling, I think he needed something tamer than that. To be totally honest, I think he might be the kind of guy who needs to feel safe and comfortable and like we’re in love.. That’s the best sex, but I need Dick. I need dick like last week.

I feel like if I can get passed a few things with Kyle, we could really vibe well. Our communication was off, he was super anxious. I also wasn’t super into his chest- he’s pale as fuck. He has this wrist cast on currently too. And he doesn’t know himself. He’s anti-social, has never had a job, and the more I write the more I’m realizing I Just want someone safe and stable who’s going to be there. He can be that for me, but am I just doing it because it’s safe? Will it make me happy and satisfied down the line, or is this for my current wants and need? Which, those needs are important, just as important as my future needs. BUT I have hesitation with Kyle because he reminds me of Sam. I wrote Sam off really fast because he wasn’t attractive- he treated me better than any other boyfriend I have ever had… Our communication sucked, though. And I definitely used him as a source of comfort because I lived a hectic life.

Kyle. Computer science major. 6’2. Attends university. Student-athlete. Parents pay for his tuition out of pocket… Has no serious hobbies, but he does write stories and draw pictures of characters that he’ll never show anyone. His taste in music is decent. He refuses to drink or do drugs. Agnostic. He’s kind, and I don’t think he can help it. He’s awkward, and he’s self-aware. But not socially aware, like he wears these terrible baggy Levi’s.

He is kind and wholesome, listens to me when I talk and thinks I’m some magnificent human for going through what I have. He’s interested in what has happened to me, I’ve opened up to him about the abuse I’ve faced and the bad shit I have done to others. Like, I told him most everything. We talked about how my relationship with T was mostly superficial, that he couldn’t handle difficult conversations. We talked about the fact that I have had more than a few sexual partners and haven’t been recently tested and that I stopped taking birth control. We talked about how I suffer from depression. I’ve really opened up with him, shared my poetry and came really close to sharing my music too. If I had been drinking more than one shot of whiskey, I would have.

He’s so ethical, which is kind of nice to be around at times, but weird when he refuses to party or drink, take any drugs, or have sex. It’s not for religious reasons, obviously, so I know it’s either fear and/or his moral compass.

He doesn’t seem to have a lot of drive in life, and pretty willingly was about to accept that he might have to leave the university if he gets a D in one of his classes. Plus, he’s never had a job. Like, that’s kind of a biggy. Was he too lazy or did he just like never need one?

But what am I even looking for? Is it a relationship? Or do I just need someone to relentlessly fuck me until I don’t care if I have a boyfriend or not? I do like that option, but I like to be cuddled and have someone who cares about what happened to me throughout my day and asks about how things went and remembers the little details to things I mentioned in passing. I’d love to be surprised with flowers or a note saying how much I’m appreciated. But in reality, would Kyle be that boyfriend? Or would he just agitate me because he has no drive? His appreciation for who I am and how I look can only take him so far with me. He needs a better style, he needs to be more toned, more social, and more substance to his personality.

Should I just look for another person at that point? Probably. But finding someone who listens when you speak is rare. He listened to the details when I talked about my difficult relationship with my mom, and he kisses passionately. He’s a really good kisser.

But I would want to change those other things about him otherwise I’ll constantly be thinking about how much I dislike his baggy pants and vanilla personality.

BUT this guy doesn’t want me just for sex. He fucking cares. He walks with me and holds my hand, his heart nearly came out of his chest when we cuddled for the first time. Literally, my vision was shaky because his heartbeat was so violent. And when we’re all seventy, we’ll all be ugly anyway. So aren’t the intrinsic values the ones we should really focus on? Or is there really something to being good looking and having great style?

He’ll get a job eventually, he’ll have a personality with time.

What do I value more? Someone who is kindhearted or someone with abs?



Okay so I’ve already kinda had my heart fractured by Kyle. How stupid is that?

He mentioned that if he fails one of his classes, he’ll probably be moving home at the end of this quarter. Like- okay drop that bombshell after we spent all of yesterday bonding?? Okay. I’m looking for a relationship- one that’s going to last longer than three months. Yet I’m already attached and he already has hurt me. We have been talking constantly, I cut fuckboys out already. ones with Huge Ass Nine Inch Dicks. For Kyle. I did that for Kyle.

Hey Kyle, Cole would have still been around if you hadn’t been so sweet yesterday. I probably would have been having meaningless sex with his big dick tonight if you hadn’t wrangled my goddamn emotions in.

Instead I’m a little heartbroken because I can’t expect a freshman to pass a class they haven’t been attending most of the quarter. So that’s awesome- and I know my dumbass is still gonna talk to you until you figure out whether or not you’re gonna stay, so I’m gonna get even closer to you, and by the time we know if you passed or not I’ll PROBABLY BE IN LOVE WITH YOU.

So I’ll say this preemptively- THANKS FOR BREAKING MY HEART.

Okay now let’s continue these next few weeks like I don’t already know this and still fall in love like a dumb bitch.


beautiful, Hope, Humanist, Journal, New, Partner, Perfect, Personal, Relationships

I went on my first date with Kyle today, and I say it like that because I know there are going to be more. He was funny, understanding, interested, intelligent, and cute. His face has very soft features and then a nice, defined jaw. Plus he’s 6’1. And an athlete. We connected on a lot of different things, we share a lot of the same interests and philosophies on life and relationships. He’s a computer science major, which is sorta my thing.

We got coffee today at 10:30, and I didn’t leave until 3:30- when he had practice. We got coffee, went for a short walk and ended up at Barnes and Noble where we compared the authors we had read and joked about other people, then we got lunch at a Thai place- because he’d never had Thai food before. After lunch, he invited me to come back with him to campus and I sat with him while he worked on a group project for his technical writing class (funny he was taking one, right?) we bonded and laughed over little things regarding technical writing, physics, and astronomy- also can we just marvel at the fact that he ordered a cappuccino, because my heart almost jumped out of my chest. I love a good cappuccino.

Anyway, after his group project was over we went back to his dorm. He left to go change, and I chatted with his roommate while I sat on his bed. Then when he came back, his roommate left, and there was this moment when I was sitting on his bed and he was pretty close to me and I could feel that electric energy that I always feel before a good kiss. His face was close enough to mine that it felt intimate, but up until that point, the most touching we had done was accidentally bumping into one another. I think I could really like this guy, and in the past, I’ve unnecessarily rushed things. I want to have a real bond with this guy. So I didn’t kiss him, instead, I got up and was like “hahah gotta go”.

There’s no reason to rush into things.

Can I just mention that when we got there, and my first reaction to him was feeling like I was seeing an old friend? Also, we matched- we were wearing the exact same shade of green. It looked like we tried to coordinate.

He’s super clean, which was nice. We love the same board games, listen to a lot of the same music, and we are both from the valley.

Okay, I’ll marry him.

There’s only like three things I didn’t care for. He is a big guy- like he’s toned, but he’s just broad by nature. He was a little too quiet at times. His sense of humor was just not my own.

That said, I like the guy a lot. He is literally the most considerate guy so far. I hope that wasn’t just the first date sorta thing.



I swear the reason I created this blog was to stop me from impulsively adding black screen rants on my Snapchat story.

Like I wanna call so many people out for shit and just be a loudmouth but I know thats not good of me or respectable and so I don’t.

Kyle mf left me on read for two hours – and I legit blocked adrian for doing that same thing and adrian was cuter– so I don’t think he wants to play that game??

I literally have 1,000 people I could hit up on tinder?? Yes I have a connection with you, but in 1,000 more swipes I’m sure I’ll find another connection. Like it’s kinda special but it’s not rare.

Idk boy. Idk.

I’m mad tho. I think I actually really like Kyle. He’s on my mind a lot – we’re going out on a date-date tomorrow. You know how long it’s been since I’ve seriously went out with a guy with the intention of dating?? Fucking forever. I really hope he doesn’t disappoint me. My standards have gotten almost too high, like unattainably high. A guy could walk in wearing the wrong shoes and I would cross him off. Or maybe he had a pimple in a bad spot. Like, things that are kind of superficial.

I don’t know, though. I want someone who tries as hard as I do. I want someone who puts effort into themselves.

As soon as I found out I was going on a date tomorrow, I drank like so much water and moisturized my skin and did a total shower. Like. I’m trying. If you’re not matching that effort, idk? Try.


Journal, Letters

The pain I feel is for no one else but me. But I haven’t been the same since you broke up with me. I have good days. Good moments. Good things here and there. But dude, inside I’m fucking changed.

I have had maybe three sober nights since the breakup. A suicide attempt. I have literally felt so much and then felt nothing. I felt nothing. I’ve cried on balconies with women I did not know, shared cigarettes with strangers and that aching inside me did not go away. I feel it every fucking day.

I’m not the girl you dated anymore.

I’m empty inside. Naivety slapped out of me. Nothing good actually exists, except whatever I felt for you before things got bad. That was good. That makes this hard.

I wish I could say I never loved you, that I had been numb this whole time.

I lost my feeling when you left. I swear I don’t know if I will love again.


Future, home, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Memories, Peace, Personal, Relationships

I’ve gone through a lot of traumatic experiences since my freshman year of high school. They haven’t just gone away, either. They follow me. My parent’s divorce at the beginning of high school was really the spark to the huge wildfire. They neglected Riley and I, meaning I wasn’t involved in school or doing the things I should have been getting done.

When I should have been taking driving lessons, my mom was moving about two-hundred miles away into an apartment with her then boyfriend. She left us with her parents, but no one was really keeping track of us or helping us do what should have been getting done. I should have been practicing driving, should have been in therapy, and someone should have been reprimanding me. I didn’t have any of that, though. I had free range of doing whatever I wanted to do, and sadly none of it was responsible.

I spent most of my days doing homework, yes. But I also would stay in bed crying all day because I felt like my parents had abandoned me. I never saw my dad and my mom’s contribution was messaging me on facebook. Ultimately, I was alone.

Instead, I was seeking attention elsewhere- so the summer of my senior year, I ended up being raped by a man. I couldn’t tell anyone because I was seventeen and he was twenty-one. I felt like I had in some ways allowed it to happen, and to this day I couldn’t press charges just because I feel responsible. I missed my period for two months and thought I might be pregnant, I spent two months thinking I was going to have to tell my mom what had happened. Luckily it was stress-induced.

That October my mom’s ex-boyfriend got a little too aggressive with my sisters and I, so we laid an ultimatum on the table for my mom; Him or us. It wasn’t the first time he had pushed the line, numerous times he physically pushed us around or used his authority as an adult to control us. He also abused my dog because she would growl at him.

She chose him, we moved out. I had just started my first job, and the only place I knew we could go last minute was with a girl I knew from school. She and her mom lived on a decent size of property and they seemed very wholesome, I figured it would be a great place to heal. We didn’t communicate very well, though. After six months we had a falling out, both parties involved were at fault. But we had to move out.

So we found a place on craigslist with a single dad who needed help with the rent, it ended up being amazing for us.

This whole time, though, I was going to high school and having to walk around 10 miles a day just to go to school, work, and home. I had no room for fault because I needed to graduate and I needed to keep my job. I didn’t have a car or the means of getting one at that point, so I just kind of dealt with it. We were barely scraping by, and some weeks we didn’t have any food at home. I remember one night we had both worked over eight hours, I walked home late, and we had no food or money. But we had a can of black beans. No can-opener. No heating or any kind. So we used a pocket knife to cut open the can and made foil spoons. That moment humbled me.

It doesn’t matter where you come from, it doesn’t matter who your parents are, or what kind of car you drive. Any of us can find ourselves in a position where a single can of cold black beans with a little salt seems like a gift from God.

I applied to universities all over California and was accepted to San Francisco State. I decided to go there and pursue a technical writing degree, which on paper was a great thing for me to do.

I moved to the city, and I knew no one. My roommate spoke french, and the other four guys were either high, playing video games, or hiding in their makeshift pillow fort. I had a job as a barista in the tenderloin, and that alone was intimidating for me. The homelessness was a serious issue, and they were aggressive. I had to follow my survival instincts while I was there. Completely ignoring the ones who confronted me. However there was one homeless woman who would wait outside the shop before we had opened. We talked, her name was Ella Mae and she had three kids. Two sons and a daughter. I could never make out all of what she said because her voice was dry and her words were slurred, but I saw a glimpse of humanity in that woman. The last two months I was there, Ella Mae didn’t come around- it wasn’t until my last day there that I found out from my favorite regular that she had a heart attack and had been in the hospital. I was happy to have an answer but upset that she was struggling even more than she had to.

My time in the city was amazing for me and helped me grow to a point where I could clearly see what I should be doing. I was suffocated by the overcrowding of people, by the fast-paced life, and by the constant displays of wealth everywhere. It’s not something that San Francisco is known for, but it’s riddled with sports cars and because of the guy I dated, I was surrounded by people who had a lot more than me.

Of course, my apartment was anything but. I love it for what it is, but it always smelled like bad broccoli and weed. It was always way too hot, and really unpleasant. My male roommates would stay up until 4am, when I would be getting up for work, partying and drinking like there wasn’t a care in the world.

I honestly wish that could have been my college experience. I just get so caught up with life that important things like financial aid gets put on the backburner. Because of that, and a breakup, I ended up dropping out of SFSU and going back home.

My mom had broken up with the abusive ex and offered me a place in her apartment, so there I went. When I was still in the city I had half-jokingly applied to a job at a popular donut shop back home as a creative baker. I didn’t even know what the job implied exactly, I didn’t know the experience I would have needed, or how much I would be paid. But I applied for the hell of it.

I ended up getting the job, and here I am. A creative baker who, hopefully, will never have to work in customer service again. I sincerely enjoy my job. I can’t wait to be able to do it without asking a million questions, though.

After everything that I have gone through, I want to have inner peace. I want to enjoy every day that I am alive. Of course, this is a journey, last night I found myself curled up in a ball crying for no reason at all.

But I’ve been doing art again, painting and drawing- it feels good to re-open that part of me. I’ve also been way more open to exploring different fashion styles and being more of myself. It turns out the way I have always wanted to dress actually looks cool to other people too.

I’m sorting through my emotions, trying to understand myself. I never will, and I have accepted that- but there’s something about the act of trying that keeps me balanced.


Beauty, Hope, Humanist, Journal, Love, Personal, Relationships

I feel like it’s really obvious without having been said, but I really cared about T. I still care about him. I think that going through this break up has been the most challenging.

I’ve been fucking and drinking and getting high, trying to distance myself from him. I feel like that’s the only thing I can have. Distance. Our relationship was never perfect, but I always wanted to work on it. I’d never felt that before. I was willing to change my bad behaviors, become a better person, all for the sake of a healthy relationship. I’ve probably seen twenty guys since T, between dates and just sex- I haven’t met even one person that I would consider remotely on that level with me.

They were all interesting, attractive, intelligent. But I can’t force it. From the moment I got into his car that first time, it felt like we had been friends. It felt like I had always known him. Not like love at first sight, but we definitely just got each other. And it makes me angry because I’m hurt. Because I had been so willing to be there for him, to work through problems, to be the best girlfriend I knew how. He honestly just made me want to be that person.

I don’t hate him for breaking our relationship off. His reasons were valid, even if I have a feeling they were just an excuse. I still want him to do good in life, I want him to continue seeking the things that make him happy and fulfilled. He’s going to do some good stuff in the world, I do know that.

It won’t be soon, but I will find that again and I don’t need to be on Tinder or going on dates or having meaningless sex or drunk. I need to be alone. I need to recuperate. My heart is in pain and I need to love myself.

What we had is the closest thing to love that I have ever felt.