A poem about my mothers, once my greatest support. They are now the greatest source of conflict in my life.

I'm struggling to feel empathy for them anymore, despite it coming so damned easily for me all the time. They prescribe to a set of beliefs that I can no longer stomach, and they truly seem to believe they're in the right in all their wrongdoings.

I'm tired of the bullshit. I'm tired of being discredited for my illness and the ease with which I am manipulated. If you hadn't been gaslighting me, maybe I would have formed thoughts of my own years before now.

Click here to read the damned poem.


One Month Later

I haven’t written anything in over a month and it’s starting to bother me. I’ve been burying myself in video games since a certain life-altering confrontation with my mothers and I’m traumatized over how petty and petulant they’ve been. I’ve been spending a lot of time with Lily. A lot of time in bed. My … Continue reading One Month Later

The Whites of Her Eyes

An old poem laced with madness. Written as part of a multi-chaptered short story and used in countless places since.

It often repeats in my head when I’m having a bad day. Well, I’ve been having a rough time of things lately with my family.—I’m nowhere near a mental breakdown, but the feeling if desperation and helplessness is always familiar in this piece. May we be kind to ourselves in our moments of suffering. Click here to read

Nonsense and Nightmares

Today was life-changing for me. I have begun the process of seizing financial independence at the cost of my relationship with my mothers.

I know they want to protect me, but I'd rather they let me be an adult. My siblings got to make their own life choices. My siblings were allowed to make horrible mistakes. Why can't I be given the same freedom?

They say I'll always be taken care of, that there will always be someone for me, but they cannot guarantee that.

I'm tortured, loves. Now nightmare has come.