Exhibit 39

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Begin excerpt:
 Red lights abound,
 A flickering side-show masking cute frowns,
 Dressed up all pretty;
 just want to be found.
 Empty glasses accenting nothing
 but young blood craving something; more than this nothing. 
  
 Things seems good,
 potentially normal.
 He wants to chat,
 thinks I’m immoral.
  
 I tell him to fuck off.
 Moods seem dampened,
 But I bite back the tears.
  
 Because after all;
 it was just a compliment, nothing weird.
 At least that’s what my best friend seemed to think.
  
 But how does that make me a slut when all I did was let him know you exist?
  
  
 Hours later the bars all closed.
 My spirits had lifted; I suppose.
  
 Said my farewell and let her drive; away.
  
 because she was always more poised than I…
 …thought I could be.
  
 Can’t question that, because it’s easier just to trust she’s got your back. And if she has my back, I’m sure she has her own…you can’t defend another if you’re all exposed. Can you?
 And if I can’t honestly say I have my own, then who’s got her back? Because I clearly don’t…since I’m the bitch who let her drive away; all fucked up on oxy cut with glaze.
  
 Too late now,
 I say to myself;
 Walking down the street,
 On my way to the house.
  
 Few minutes later,
 phone makes a ding,
 weights all seem lifted,
 when she says she’s home safe.
  
 And that makes one. I thought to myself, eyeing that same shadow across the way. It belongs to the creep that I’d kept at bay. But now it’s all dark, and I’m not feeling sure…that I could do it again. Alone. Here.
 He probably lives on campus, probably not a bad guy. Just a little pushy when hyped up on rye. The rhyming is lazy when I’m all worked up. Thing’s don’t quite flow and we all know what they serve at bars. I could try and rhyme alcohol for you but I don’t think it would matter, in communicating this learned fucking reflex that causes me to cower…when I see a man. When I don’t know what he’s doing over there.
  
 Across the way.
  
 I’m sure it’s nothing. That little flash every thirty seconds is probably his phone.
 Still; my hand is on that whistle…the best gag gift I ever got.
  
 And I’m sending this message because I just want you to know, that I don’t feel quite right being alone…right now. And maybe the drugs just cloud up my mind, maybe his shadow is nothing but kind, but maybe I don’t feel like he’s reassured me of that the way he touched me without asking.
 So, I’ll send you a text in a minute or two,
 When I walk through that door we’ll know I was a fool,
 for shivering and quivering in these fucking high heels,
 hoping to God he isn’t the kind of tool,
 who likes my false advertisement; because as far as I’m concerned my light belongs to you.
  
 So try not to worry,
 I’ll be home in a fetf–
  
 -Excerpt from exhibit 39, sent in the early hours of June 11th, moments before the incident took place. 

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Smile

I guess it’s been a while. Consistency isn’t really my thing. I guess that’s okay for what is essentially an anonymous e-diary.

But like most things online, silence is good. It means I haven’t needed the outlet, because I was already smiling. Not perpetually, but often. I have a lot to love in my life right now and that’s mind blowing. I feel so lucky. I love her, she loves me, and now we have a home. I have my desk and art supplies and my keyboard and a career path and music and everything I need to exist.

I’m living a snapshot of what I used to dream about. I hope it doesn’t change but terrified because it inevitably will. But maybe it’ll be for the better. Maybe I’ll finally grow up.

An abstract piece meant to depict a positive head space. A fictional but salient dream.

I keep coming back to my blog and thinking I really should post something. But…I just didn’t need it like I used to. I don’t have anything to air out; to work out or think through. I don’t feel like the same kid who named their diary after an evil pirate from a fairy-tale. I need to rename it. I don’t feel like an outcast anymore. I feel loved and my old format doesn’t reflect that.

Work

For me, if I don’t have an overarching goal, ambition, or thing that seems impossible to work towards; I go a little crazy. My mind is active and it’s like it creates internal problems that I have to solve but probably can’t because they’re ill-defined and not as pressing or relevant as they seem. Most would call this sort of experience anxiety, and I tend to agree. These go away when I have something huge to work on. My books, an ambitious art project, pouring my everything into my classes. I need to outrun myself.

I think the need to be improving, the need to not waste time is important. But it’s hurt every relationship I’ve tried to have or cultivate. Friends are easy to fit in but close friends and my ex’s all end up realizing I can’t relax. I can’t do leisure. I can’t make time for them when I’ve already scheduled out my day with thirty hours worth of hard work. And if I did there’s no guarantee they’ll like what they see. Anxious.

I’m overbooked, all the time…but I like that. It’s the only way I sleep. I need it, otherwise my mind goes back to torturing me and convincing me all these little problems and all the stuff from my past still matters when it doesn’t. It’s all or nothing with people, and it’s not right to make anyone my project, so they stay at arms length and I hope they don’t mind that I need to plow ahead with my passions. Regret never helped a soul and I’ve already learned from those mistakes. I don’t have a time machine, so I need to keep my eye on ‘what’s next’. Perpetually.

Okay, breaks over. Back to studying!

 

Peace,

Blu

Stubbing Toes isn’t the Worst thing.

What makes finding peace and happiness so difficult? Shouldn’t it be as simple as doing what makes you happy? It should, but it isn’t. Doing what you fulfills you and expecting to survive is like walking through a minefield without a metal-detector. Sure, you might make it through. But if what you do, at any point, puts pressure on the wrong spot…offends the wrong person…well good luck.

Doesn’t mean it’s not worth the risk. Here’s to stepping on a few toes while we try and find our way.

😉

Blu