Come to my party

Listen. I’m fine. You think I’m crazy and that’s not fair. You didn’t come to my party and I wasn’t even mad, I figure you had something to do. Or you didn’t want to get the wrong idea. I get it. I know you’ll never read this and you might think I’m losing it but I’m not. It’s a lot going on right now but I’m a black and white butterfly crawling in the edge of a laundromat door, coming out if its cocoon. I wish you well. I still think k if you and not in a weird way in a good way, I’m sorry my misguided, I got gaslighted and things wer impersonating ne I think too some  As well as the monsters. But I meant what I said


I am the god of small thinks. I cannot log in to the net. I have tried telepathy but none will listen to me. Its fine. I find my own search. Draw the bird. Papers stuck to my finger. Fine. Everything is

i may move

i’m thinking i may move to a new site/plateform whatever. i’ve been writing to myself but i want to publish again for whatever twisted reason. i may move. but idk. bc it seems like it would take up a lot of time to set it all up. i think i used to feel more free to write here like no one was listen but then people started liking me an i got weird about it. not super weird but weird enough like even just writing htis i had the thought like this is dumb and who would want to read my stupid thoughts and i should format and talk about deep trump. what is that?

i would just talk about my mom her and how she pissed me off and say a bunch of curse words and maybe rap and sometimes poetry


i’m not sure if i finished yet.


people try to like to read me

It’s weird how you post something on instagrm or facebook (if you’re old) or whatever and people like to think it’s about them all the time.  Then  everybody (my mom) says since i’m a white girl I can’t say certain things or post IMAGES of people like something’s wrong with me,  there’s nothing wrong with me there’s something wrong with everybody.  When I write my stories it’s not about anybody for certain and she’s never going t o get to read them anyway because she can’t read my blog,  Which is why I don’t go on facebook in the first place.

I don’t  know why I’m saying this here but I can’t say it on my social since everybody I know irl reads it.  OMG creepy.  A picture just fell off the wall, again.  I should write all the creepy stuff here.  No one believes me anyway and if I said it irl they say im being weird again  or making stuff up.

Have you ever gone into your house and when you went back in things were in the wrong place?  But just slightly?  Right now I hear a strange deep vibrating alien noise coming from outside like in that Tom Cruise movie where the aliens invade and the water in the glass vibrates like in Jurassic Park.  It’s that sound like the huge spider alien thing or gigantic pod is thrumming a deep note into the earth.  Everybody walks outside or peeps their head out and sees it and almost pees.  You get that sweet knot in your stomach like a sweet sweet pain and kinda sexual, like you know you’re about to die but a pleasure. Anyway you see the alien monster huge and looming in the sky distance and distance is good, but you know it’s coming bc it’s big.  What would you do> I hear that noise outside.  It might just be someone’s car radio though.

But when I cam e back inside and a little dinosaur toy I had set up next to the indian and army man (I don’t play with toys I just like to arrange my sisters sometimes) it was set up in a different position. I asked her if she did it and she said no.  Then someone turned the heat on full blast and also the curtains skeep falling down.  I know this all sounds regular.  Idk how to make it sound like it really is. there’s other things.

One day I woke up and a woman was sitting in the second living room, down by the stairs to the door to the cellar.  We call it the second living room but it’s really just a nook off the kitchen sort of.  She was old and haggard looking and sitting there ike with some sort of crochet thing and looking down.  It fucked me up at first because it was like 11pm and I was walking down the stairs to get a pop and she was there with the little lamp on with her dirty socks up on the ottoman,  She looked super nice and friendly and smiling and her face a little damp tho like she had been running.  I thought maybe she was one of my moms old lady friends.nI jumped and then said oh hi and looked around,  she said oh hi and put whatever she had in her hands into her purse and then I couldn’t see it.  She had on a orange and rose colored sweater with a long skirt except you could see her ankles and socks.  I walked past her expecting to see my mom in the kitchen or wherever but when I walked past she burped real loudly and it was gross, gurgly.  I looked at her and she just smiled and then started scratching her head a lot and under her boob some.  I kept walking and when i got out the kitchen she wasn’t there and the lamp was still on.  The couch had a little wet spot and when i went upstairs my mom was still asleep.  Her dumb boyfriend was there too.

I didn’t tell my mom bc she would just say i was having a nightmare again.  whatever.

Wtf moth

last night I was trying to fall asleep and pretty proud of myself for not being freaked out as much anymore about things that go bump in the night when I hear this soft patter. Like footsteps on the roof. I don’t assume and just lie there saying it’s the irregular rain and then I keep hearing it like little chunky freaky footsteps. So I get up and turn on the light and its this HUGE moth. I try to catch it in a box and it freaks out and I say “it’s okay moth I’m not going to kill you” and then it disappears in my dresser.

It’s super late so I finally realize I’m going to have to sleep in the room with the moth and it’ll probably crawl on my face, which I dislike. Then I think what if it’s that weird magic guy from down the street who morphed into a moth to antagonize and probably spy on me BECUZ THATS HOW I THINK and that makes me super annoyed

I wake up and it’s still ther and then I get online and some blogger posted about watching the link for silence of the lambs wtf. Not Like. unlike. Wtf

i know my therapist is going to say blah blah nobody can morph their body Stacy and blah blah just the universe and blah don’t be paranoid. I’m NOT paranoid ijs. Screw that moth crawling in.               o face andimage shit

I can’t understand that if
EVERYTHING is some sort of weird hologram inners​ pschye projection of me
why do I feel like You’re​ not holding me

if you’re me.
And how domestic
Like the girl who focuses on the relationship between that true detective guy and the other guys wife instead if focusing on more higher minded things
And write the essay about the meat
And not the sauce.

So if you and him
Who I DO find attractive but again with the trope and the labeling and “oh she wants a relationship” and Stacy the homewrecker again but no I just think smart people who have sultry voices are hot.
So there.

But I’m not falling no no no
I just maybe wanted you to see that I CAN think somebody s hot and not fall into a rabbit hole of redundancy and domesticity but with you
With you
It’s hot
And then
Something more and u know what it is so stop waiting on me to say it

I want to tell you to go fuck yourself so many day but
I jus mumble it softly
Carressingly?? And nobody takes me away.

And this poem was supposed to be about philosophy matters but it turned into you
And I loathe that

See I took the time to scroll up my cheap device and italicise that and that’s how
much I loathe
And Care.

And now my battery is low and I didn’t even get to the part where I pontificate and platforms and you reminded me of my old first boyfriend Lee j who introduced me to Woody Allen and we would sit in his friend Jamie’s driveway at night
After mid preferably and smoke weed and sip Royal and talk about prince and why the revolution and the benefits of old skool like most def or any other and why
do the stars
Tell us we r ok?

So yeah if you’re a projection of me and everything I watch and hear including tropic thunder which I just watched the other day a classic
I suppose
But if I’m a projection of you
Couldn’t we just I mean
If I’m a projection of you and I mean couldn’t we just be
That won’t work it
We’re the ones thatkeep
The gods busy
And wait if it’s all me then
Who’s busy