gaudy for you, baby

i hope that my gaudy existence brings you some joy, sincerely, in part because it brings me none. not the gaudiness; the existence bit. i could be plain as beige and feel just as much pain every second; the glittery exterior is a mask i have chosen to construct. i may put it into words but rarely do i show others the pain behind it in anything other than terms so visceral that people look at shiny sugarcoated me and they barely believe it. the relationship between myself and pain (i know pain intimately) is a forbidden obsession that lingers.

i have on occasion done awful, horrible, no-good, very-bad things, which simply adds fuel to a self hatred fire. likely not to anyone reading this, but i have not only singed edges decaying to get rid of the infected flesh, but also myself been the shallow (and sometimes, not so) dagger that causes the infection to start and begin its probable festering.

i have a lot of feelings, and the world is a very small space to hold them. their magnitude has me crushed like a bug already… you think you can escape? ha.

i am doing the onlyfans thing again, which should only matter if you are going to go to my twitter and pay for a subscription, so i am promptly moving on.

now that there’s self deprecation AND self-promo, we really are beginning to put a whole new blog post together. well, i am! you’re just reading it. i shouldn’t accuse you of laziness since i don’t know your circumstances – just like not one person reading this even possibly could know all of mine. i have secrets in layers, like an onion that you can peel open to find more, even though i don’t really like onions.

van gogh was not well known except posthumously, and i often feel i will be the same, minus the becoming known after death part. ha! i’ll keeep my ears, for now. there’s a copy of van gogh’s letters published in a book somewhere on my wishlist, but that doesn’t matter much at the moment. i have too many books to read already, for one thing.

xena is on the bed with me, streetching gracefully and extending her long body then kicking my hand away as it approached her foot for pets. she lets boundaries be known. it’s a red flag if someone doesn’t like cats without trauma for me, since cats simply set boundaries and then enforce them, with violence if necessary. what else would you expect from a predator; an obligate carnivore?

i could include some pictures (as always.)

perhaps i shall dig something recent up


oh! there you go. me yesterday, on christmas day, though i’m more of a yule-celebrating girl who practices neopaganism.

that’s enough for now. maybe more in the morning. definitely more soon.

xxoo
z

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