breathing and accidentally something happens

I wrote a poem, I guess. I’ll share it today.

TW SUICIDE, DEATH, MEDS, SUFFOCATION, MEDICAL STUFF KINDA

when i take a breath in
specifically in, not out, because in is easier
physically that is
my ocd is like, oh, in addition to the gunk in everyone’s eyes
“did you know that there are particles in the air?
skin and bacteria float around everywhere”
i push the thought away reminding myself simply that
that not breathing hurts more.

and i would know how not breathing hurts
how a noose choking you feels until
the bar the rope is tied to snaps and you fall
how an oxygen tube down your throat
feels when you wake up and were unconscious when they put it in,
rendering you helpless as you were never taught
how properly to imbibe your oxygen
when you just woke from a state of unconscious

i have been there because of my brain
and mostly the 55+ 50mg amitriptyline pills
that did not succeed in killing me
i made sure to take more than nick drake,
with whom i shared an age in that he died at 26
and i was 26 when i, you know, did it
but i failed at the one thing i have so much practice in
everyone is uncomfortable when you bring up death

death and suicide, thanks ocd, nothing i’d love more
than to have thoughts on the hour like clockwork
that rise intrusively to the surface of my thoughts
as if it were a pool and they float, lighter than the water
less dense and heavy. they sit on top like a thin layer of oil
they do not mesh and they never will
with the rest of my thinking, at least in the sense that
they are not allowed near each other, they simply
coexist in my brain in different places

i lock the thoughts up in a room when this happens. scoop the oil.
i place the oil and a slight amount of what should not be there
but is because i am not perfect at removing oil on a surface
inside a container, and another, larger container, or several
contain the rest of my thoughts.
someone once told me not to look at the ground
i’m too pretty to have such low self esteem, she said
i smiled, not even a façade yet, you know, it was real
though temporary

so now i take my separated mental illnesses after leaving them
to sit around and fester but only because
i simply did not have the energy or ability to do anything else
and now they have not been checked on in weeks, months, years,
but when i feel an unfamiliar pain and check every corner
it is one of the last on my list but i look nonetheless
it was my doing. the mold spills out of the containers now
mold that once didn’t even exist

there is an unknown liquid on the bottom of the container
and where it was sitting, too, and, oh, no,
it drips on the floor so i quickly take it out to the trash.
milky moldy liquid is spilling everywhere and it disgusts me
i try, half-assed, to clean up my mess, which is actually the best i can do
so really i am doing my very best; but i digress
i try not to breathe in this time and hold my oxygen captive in my lungs
until carbon dioxide is all i can taste and i can bear it no longer,

inhale, inhale the fumes, the stench
of your own mistakes. i once made a good man hate me and for no good reason.
that is not my typical behavior but it is the bed i made for that situation
i breathe in, imagining a clear unpolluted breeze on my face
into my lungs, one by one, until both are full of- air— oxygen—- NO
the stench of the fumes is still there!
i breathed in as much as i could. might as well have lapped it up like a
little kitten drinking milk to grow stronger and because it tastes so unique
in a sweet way

but here we are, and i am unsatisfied at best. the good days are boring.
i have no complaints outside of myself that are not universal
but i mostly don’t have those boring days
mostly it’s just…pain…pain…pain. an overwhelming sense of suffering
the self-pity is almost as strong in me as it is in the girl my ex fucks now
the one who told me things nobody should say- is that
was that where the noxious fumes came from? spilling milky liquid?
was it you who stole my petals?
i was keeping them safe in a box but it is nowhere to be found.

and now as in my mind the thick white barium-drink-like substance
that fills my whole being turns a darker shade of bitter
i am puffy, full of fluids and infection
you are there, only a little bit away, passionately hating things that are, well,
technically my fault at one point but now i’m not to blame!
have you seen mad no take her shorter fingers and feel them try to act
as if there is love in the bones. there is… a devotion. an obsession.
much like mine, only more so & with more bile mixed in.
she doesn’t just smell like my sour milky bitterness
she has the smile of a creature who doesn’t know its blood is greenish white

a new post on a new blog for a new day, or something

gosh, that sounds terribly optimistic, doesn’t it? that’s kind of gross.

it’s not that optimism is inherently gross by any logic, but anything other than pessimistic realism resulted in something bad when i was a child. i don’t know what, but i know i’m deeply uncomfortable admitting i feel optimism, in a similar way to my difficulty expressing affection physically or even verbally, because it’s weakness or whatever.

so i can sit here, and vape cherry pie thc (or either of two other cartridges i have), and blog, on neon cherry dot pink. i have turned off the auto renew on everything; even domain name sugarette.net

my “fresh and popping” discord server includes dialogue like:

reminder that access is $1/month at my patreon, but i also don’t expect many of you to want to join. if enough people contribute to my patreon funds, i can subscribe to k+k loveline’s hour long guidance reading each month instead of a half hour tarot and astrology blend reading! perhaps with more guidance i will fuck up less! not that my fucking up is on you!!! unless you are one of a select few people who contributed directly to my decline…

and do i have a decline? for i am where i’ve always been, just shed of some parasites. lonely, in a pandemic, but not as weighed down. overwhelmed, frustrated, but not as willing to end my own life. that one’s important right there; my suicidality and self harm have been decreasing, and as much as i’d adore for my ex to think i died, it’s alright if he doesn’t and he continues to stalk this blog like so many others do.

so my mental health is better, and worse, at the same time. my physical health… is worse, and my spiritual health is telling me it’ll thrive if i buy candlemaking supplies, with some help from my materialistic shopping addict almost-not-quite-a-hoarder tendencies. that’s just that, i suppose. i am trying to nip the hoarder thing in the bud! i’ve seen it play out over my mom’s life, and i don’t want that for myself!!!

(and still, i hoard footage)

so i don’t think i’ve published a video since my last blog post, in fact i know i haven’t, but i am working on editing not one but several videos (i am a strong and capable woman when it comes to not leaving my apartment or talking to strangers or…)

terabytes upon terabytes, that i cannot wait to upload and then offload, but here we are, in a place where i haven’t edited much of anything yet. haven’t even organized, i have barely even peeked.

should there be a song for every one of the blog posts from now on? perhaps there should be, every time. this is a tradition i may soon forget.

i wish i had things to say, to contribute, to improve things. is it more important that i remember quality over quantity, dear (and sometimes creepy) readers?

if you subscribed via email to my blog recently, it is not because of you that i moved, and you are welcome here… give me your opinion! in the comments! or don’t, i have too many lurkers.

from my 2020 birthday

and so i keep moving forward. what else is there to do? we are floating in space, on a rock. keep living. keep doing. it is repetetive, and i hate it some days, but often it is rewarding, not to be the cornball i am so desperately afraid of being thanks to my father and his complete invalidation of myself or my brother feeling any emotion (see: him laughing and calling it dancing when my brother would cry and throw a tantrum at an age where that was normal.)

this was just supposed to be a post, you know? not one of the long, long ones. a casual one. not that it’s long enough to warrant two descriptive longs with a comma in between (yet?) but i still feel perplexed about how i ended up here. my brain is a puddle, these days. by these days, i mean years. years have gone by.

most of my media didn’t transfer to my blog posts here during the import… i’ll see what that means shortly, i suppose.

it’s come to my attention recently that i look young for 28. i wasn’t aware that 28 was an age you normally need botox and anti aging dermatologist and aesthetician treatments by, but here we are. my skin has gained texture, during the last two years, mostly due to my dermatillomania. i’m somewhat of a dermatillomania queen over on tiktok. i don’t think that that’s a good thing.

this is enough for now? we’ll catch up eventually…i love you

xoxo
zélie

crystals i ordered online etc

crystals are arriving today.

and other things (oops? not that i’m on a no-buy currently)

so, hello.

the person you wanted to be like sends me money now.

of course, that image is old. the hair! my hair is much lighter and longer now. i suppose i should show you all soon. i’m just so tired, but maybe pictures…? soon?

not that you can see my hair, but these harley quinn cosplay pics are recent:

of course, i am cosplaying her in a scene from suicide squad, namely this one:

margot robbie, let me be as beautiful as you pls.

so, the crystals are arriving today, and perhaps i will vlog them!

but who knows. who cares? who knows.

i am blogging and blogging and going and going and things are ok, i guess, but also bad, because always (the when are they not? etc) i don’t eat enough, and i’m worried about me, but like, it’s fine.

it’s fine. i’m fine.

truly the words of someone desperate to be perceived as “fine” (whatever that means!)

in that first picture, the very first one in this whole entire blog post (lol) i am wearing a jane mai shirt that says “cunt is such an ugly word i’m so pretty though”; and for a long time it was my favorite shirt. i love jane mai! we have sort of become acquaintances, to be an awful name dropper. i have been ordering things from her for years, so we have some sort of rapport. she has put nail polish bottles she knew were dupes of ones i wanted in my order boxes. and more! i love her!

i subscribed to cat marnell on patreon, because idk. the appeal is there. the writing is good. the photos are better (cat marnell’s photography skills are not spoken about often enough! they exist!!!) so i pay ~$6 a month now to read her articles. i can’t afford it, i do it anyways.

i can’t afford most things. i do them anyways. my december and january rent remain unpaid. please president biden, a 3rd stimulus check would save my ass at the very least (i jest; it’d do much more good than that!)

as always, my venmo is zelie my cashapp is $neoncherry my paypal can be found here and that’s about it! well, there’s always patreon, and onlyfans. lol. onlyfans is obviously very 18+. the patreon membership of $1 per month or more helps me pay my silly subscriptions, and more importantly it gives you access to my discord server, automatically, even though i suck at bots! i need to go back into my server settings and figure that out lol!

i hate that thing. that so many people do. that thing. that show. that so many people like. i hate it! however, hate is unconstructive. i should focus that passion and energy into love. into things that deserve love, like almost nothing left in my life.

obviously my cats are a huge exception.

i sit here, blogging, AND vlogging, (writing, AND filming myself writing). i sip my coffee. it is still warm. for a moment i find peace.

life is torment but i needn’t drag others into that. i’ll be back.

xoxo
zélie

it’s unfortunate that things ended up this way

cut me off, dad.

go on i expect it.

you were abusive, emotionally, verbally, physically, more?

i can’t talk about my mom. she might cut me off too, anyways, and i can’t not talk about her not because she’s never hurt me deliberately, but because she might read this. because i struggle to cover the cost of all my cat food and toilet paper every month so she helps me with specifically those items. paper towels. cat litter. that’s it. that’s okay. some people don’t even have that

when i brought up that i was raised in a “family cult” to possibly two parents with npd, one overtly and one covertly, i expressed frustration that it had taken me 28 years and i’d lost important relationships in the process, heartbreakingly important connections i had, due to my not knowing. now i know. now i know enough. but now is too late. my therapist reminded me that some people go their whole lives without any sort of realization like i’d had- they just live their muddled lives. i wanted to cry, because though in a way it is comforting to have figured it out before i had hit 30, at that time especially i was not over the fact that i had hurt a good man who at worst sexually assaulted me while drunker than he should be but never -never- literally penetrated and raped me… i had hurt him emotionally repeatedly and he was ready to move onto another girl, to follow the girl he’d desired after me but hadn’t told me about, while fucking me…i swear, he is a good man, i think. he didn’t deserve my vitriol at least. the girl who he got involved with second after me does deserve that vitriol, looking back at messages that she sent this blog. maddison. the dreaded. the you’re welcome, i know you adore your new facebook url and the permanent story i gave you behind it.

some new youtube (singular), because i mean whatever why not;

then we have the ever-present dilemma. no. not now.

nobody believes me really, except me, which is fine, because i know, and one day i’ll be aware and coherent enough to convey how things are. and you will all eat your words.

the organ synth is so important to me as a musical instrument. music is so important to me.

what else is there? besides art, and cats. certainly not other people. perhaps the self.

donate to my living costs here.

xoxo
zélie

and some of the rest

and so this chapter comes to a close. i’ll announce the newest one on here. link it, etc. don’t worry.

just not yet.

here are the youtube uploads… soon another video is coming, that will say similar things to this blog post. things like, i will still upload, but in a different way, and this won’t be my main focus.

anyways, here they are:

a new presence… an experiment, for me to benefit from.

a way to be healthier.

perhaps the details will come later. i have more to say, anyways. so for now, this chapter lies opened to its last page.

still opened.

does she smile, or does she mouth, “fuck you forever”?

xoxoxo
what a shame she went mad
zélie

the distraction and other problems

hello all,

let’s get the inevitable sharing of my new youtube videos out of the way, shall we?

my 2021 intro

so there you have it, my progressively more restricted videos. well, not technically youtube-restricted, but restricted to 18+ and so not visible… on this… 18+ site…

i think it’s important that you know. i’m here to stay a while.

but my 2021 intro has things that are 18+ in them, so many videos may not be viewable on here. idk. i don’t really care – i make the videos for myself!

i brewed coffee, and alexis is coming, with milk, to help me hang out and clean. she offered, because she loves cleaning and helping people. weird, i know. but to barely-functioning me in messy apartment, that’s like a dream. so i said yes and here we are, she will be here any minute!

i’ve got photos to share, but not yet. their time will come. this is not a post for photos. for once.

i think of auto-saves on here as soft saves, and clicked saves as hard draft saves. is that logical? probably not.

i will be asking for donations this month, because i am hurting financially, i am two months behind on rent with less than $7 usd in my checking and an even smaller amount in my savings. so, not if it will impact your ability to pay bills, but if you have anything to spare, my paypal can be found here. i am working hard to make rent payments, hustling, if you will, but things are hard. things are hard for everyone!

my brain is scattered, and i should email my college advisor back. ah, yes, i am back at school soon, already crying about it internally.

i am trying my best! aaah!

xoxo
zélie

ps. i love you all

glitch witch bitch

so, i stopped identifying as wiccan (due to the racist origins of the word), but i am still a witch. a neo-pagan. i am also glitch vhs back on my bullshit, bitch, biscuit, bitch

i wrote something about scorpios of all things earlier and found that my passion for writing has been reignited, in typing at least. i wish for a typewriter (a pink typewriter) that i can click-clack on the keys of. that i can film myself click-clacking on the keys of. my blue switch mechanical keyboard is simply not enough!

speaking of which, i have a holiday present wishlist.

anyways, there are other things to share, like youtube videos i’ve made (as i’ve mentioned, i’m b.o.m.vhs.b.), like i said, only TRULY this time.

gosh. looking back, i even already referenced the title of this post (a former instagram username); my memory is so shit! it’s okay though, c’est la vie.

here are the recent videos i mentioned in passing:

anyways. those are the new videos.

so.

i feel like the katamari damacy king of the universe. destroying all the stars and then especially killing time and distracting and talking too much. distraction/surveying.

i have more, but, hmmm, let’s see. i am so tired of this. all of this, this life stuff. i mean, it’s fine, i’m not going to attempt suicide or anything stupid like that, but fuck, is it hard.

this living thing.

people ask me why i’m depressed. i don’t know what to tell them, except that wellbutrin takes me to a significantly less depressed state (think crying in bed rather than crying on the floor face down with snot in my hair.)

i’ve been enjoying online communities, and i highly recommend them during this isolating pandemic. i mean, it’s okay, but my discord and twitter especially have been bringing me a sense of community. instagram too, i suppose, although i feel that i simultaneously basically hate instagram for being so sex-worker-unfriendly.

listening (telling you like it’s livejournal in 2005) to perfect by mason and princess superstar.

this synth part, so cool! whoo!

lately i have been listening to a few songs on repeat. do you want a mix cd curated for you, by me? or better yet, a cassette.

perfection, ha ha.

yes, the parts in italics are lyrics. yes, i’m brutally obvious. also why yes, i am the cliché child of harley quinn and taylor swift.

i hit my head, somehow, perhaps from fainting from malnutrition? and now it is sore. a bump swells.

the skin on my face itches in the way that a deep need to get to something underneath to scratch an unsatisfiable itch is there. i know from experience that acting on the itching leads to scratching leads to picking leads to blood. blood, red blood, bright then if i don’t clean it with stinging alcohol it’s a brownish color.

the maroon of the vial of blood in my minifridge tells me it partially oxidized, even in a medical vial.

i did not pay for that, lol. it was free blood. i mean, technically.

i told someone i wouldn’t disclose the details though. for secrecy reasons, of course. what else?

hmmmm…. i wish i had cool pictures to show you all. i’m sure i do, but what use are they? do i upload old randoms or recent snaps?

this is my (unfinished) character in the game calico, which i preordered via kickstarter.

this game is cute and fun and makes me want a controller that works for pcs. unfortunately, those cost money…especially the pink ones! rude.

i took this test pt 1
i took this test pt 2

so there’s (pretty much) proof that i am the chaotic good i claim to be. a turbulent enfp, if you will! if you put weight into such things.

me, recently, getting pizza. it was delicious.

so, i guess, that’s most of it since we last talked.

i have been wearing boots in the snow too much. i have been drinking coffee and smoking weed, like always

what is a paragraph? i’ve never heard of such a thing! ok, jokes aside, i love u all.

xoxo
zélie

tw sa/sh but what’s the point of having a blog and never using it?

i’m back on my vhs glitch bullshit, and here we go again. i made a vlogmas trailer/intro;

but i don’t know if i’m doing vlogmas, even though i’ve been filming.

i guess i should make my glitchy witch bitch 2021 youtube intro soon.

other videos i made since then include but are not limited to:

(this one got me a kind of okay music talent scout email!)

these were (mostly) so fun to make!

i included SA/rape/domestic abuse helplines in the youtube post for the video where i cover little mix and mention that user9429450 aka my ex casey, who i loved deeply and fucked up around too, but who honestly fucked me up worse after i left another ex for being emotionally abusive and physically threatening/breaking my stuff. he was not what i needed. he sexually assaulted me, which i woke up to, while he was drunk. i’ll include resources below:
https://thehotline.org
https://ncadv.org
in the USA, you can call 1-800-799-7233
crisis text line: text SUPPORT TO 741-741

i’m listening to miley cyrus’ plastic hearts album, and telling you about it for a blog post, livejournal style. but this is not livejournal. this is wordpress. golden g string is a banger; a very good song. i feel like miley cyrus has grown hugely in the past several years.

i have a new boyfriend, and gel nails he paid for (the nail tech was tipped generously and i politely complied when they asked to take my temperature)…everything should be okay. depression and mental illness still has me in its raw-thistle-hands rough-bleeding-wounds-skin choke-hold-kill situation… but i did also switch to a new antidepressant, well, restart an old one; wellbutrin. it has helped me in the past. it works on dopamine, not your serotonin. it does lower your seizure threshold and increase that risk.

i changed my twitter and instagram urls. at first they were private, even ig, but i have uin-privated my mains. so, if you check those, check that out. i updated the links here. i’m sure my stalkers and harassers will be thrilled.

i want to write more. i want to read more. goals for 2020 – or tomorrow?

you can join my discord server, where i spend a lot of my time, automatically if you have discord & have it linked with patreon, and you pledge $1 or more to me/month. this is the link. the url is just zelie, like so many other things.

i love you all. as i vape thc, i wonder about future plans tattooing myself and learning to use a machine and power supply, and shader needles… not something i’d recommend to most… but i am allergic to metal so piercings are difficult (i learned this after piercing my tongue and nipples, oh no!) and besides, my favorite therapist i’ve ever had, who was good at therapy, told me that tattooing myself is an acceptable alternative to cutting myself. so. i win (i always win.)

anyways, mostly i just wanted to update you all! remind me to post more. love u.

xoxo

time is racing toward us

…you guessed it (or maybe you didn’t), i covered i’ll make a man out of you from the original mulan movie:

and since i started with my most recent video, let’s work backwards through any others i’ve published since then:

okay, fair warning, i’ve made a lot of videos since i’ve written a blog post…

so what’s been up with me? well, i had my heart broken, by my ex, who claims he never broke up with me and who i have no recollection of breaking up with, but who is still my ex for some reason. funny how things work like that; like heartbreak. choking you.

i took and scanned and took more photos, but those, or most of those, are for later. i suppose i’ll share some scanned instaxes of me in a britney spears hoodie at the local lake;

more to share later.

for now, i return to my regularly scheduled mental breakdown.

xoxo
zélie