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my crutch

when i feel really lonely (like tonight when i'm listening to the sad brooke fraser songs and reflecting on my trip to samoa and missing it), there are several habits i am tempted (and have succumed to) to quench the loneliness. i'm writing this out so that i get to acknowledge out loud, to myself (and my hundreds of readers lol) that these are real temptations but maybe don't indulge in them.

1. fuckbois.
there are a handful of guys who have given me attention and because they do, i feel wanted, attractive, and important. they're a nice quick fix, though they don't truly respect me (judging by how they treat me). but they fulfill their purpose and i end up paying the price of having interacted with a fuckboi.

2. drunk texting/calling exes
my exes are quite lovely dudes and will always, in good nature, at least reply with kindness and say they hope i'm okay. is there a such thing a fuckgirl cos that's what i may be to them.

3. maybe this should've gone before the previous point, but: drinking
drinking when lonely and sad only deepens the feelings of loneliness and sadness for me. drinking is at its funnest with my friends and cousins, and if those aren't the circumstances, probs should not aye.

4. god
for believers, this may be offensive to list god, under the same place where fuckbois are, but hear me out (feel free to stone me and/or pray for me afterwards). from my experience of Christianity, god is promised to never leave me nor forsake me and love me unconditionally, and these terms sound so alluring when i'm most vulnerable. but in these times, like right now, its hard to remember that i was in my most depressive low when i was a part of the church, i was always compromising myself, and i felt like i could trust no one, not really. gossip flowed through the church like in any other social group, so it was hard to open up about the darkest, most shameful sins, the secret ones when no one is looking. but beyond the church (people recommend i haven't found the right one), i was faking my connection to god a lot of the time. i knew the right things to say when it was my turn to pray and was more interested in being a good christian than finding true peace. i'm at my most peaceful, most self-loving, most compassionate now that i'm not a believer. but when i'm lonely, i think, maybe i should just go to god, forgetting how my life "with Him", didn't bring me true, lasting, comfort.

hahahaha didn't realise this was gonna lowkey be a blog about my hangups with christianity. eka.

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trying to get unstuck

there are competing thoughts in my head:

- you don't know enough to disseminate your thoughts

- writing is just a way to think out loud, not preach to a congregation

- none of your thoughts are original

- no one's thoughts are

- white people will laugh at you

- well, if you're afraid of that, might as well do nothing

- people will laugh at you, of all races

- isn't that comforting? knowing you'll be laughed at regardless?

- also, people may not laugh, they may not care at all

- but there will be people who do, people who need you to do what you need to do. it's not to boost your ego laura, it's to remind you that what you do is not just about you, it never was.

- just do the thing.

- send the email, write the pieces, submit them, hope for the best

- you've survived heartbreaking rejection before, you can survive professional rejection also (emotionally i mean, maybe panic a liiiiiittle cos you need $$$$$ lol)

- you've got this.

The Great Disappointment

My first heartbreak was when I was 11 or 12 years old.
I met him at church and he was the most beautiful person I'd ever had the pleasure to lay my eyeballs on. He was unironically cool and has shoulder-length curler hair and a side-smile that made me melt.
He smoked (he was my age), and well, after months of me secretly crushing on him, he tells me he likes me too.
I'm skipping straight to this, even though it felt like an eternity of pining before that, in which I had accepted no one as beautiful and glorious as that would look twice at me. There were many girls my age who seemed to have an adult's knowledge of style.
I looked like an awkward tween, my monobrow and mo was doing me no favours.
And yet.
And yet.
And then, to gloss over our months of bliss (I want to keep that to myself for now), my mum found out about us, and made me break up with him.
I could've lied to her and kept seeing him behind her back, but I was a trained obedient kid and I didn't want to …