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angst is so embarrassing, but also it is one of the fleeting delights of youth.
I feel a desire for fall. I made red pepper soup, pumpkin soufflé, and apple butter muffins.
we shall feast upon them tonight.


feeling today like I haven't had enough life experiences, and that makes me feel stupid, naive, and young. feeling an insecurity that I have never struck out on my own. feeling antsy to feel like an adult facing the brave new world alone. steadfast, I invent problems in my relationship. or perhaps I refuse to recognize them in favor of a whimsical pipe dream of the future, like Jason thinks. probably, instead of addressing the real issues practically, solving them, thinking about what I actually want, and taking steps to achieve it (lame), I prefer to invent unsolvable fake issues that make me feel bad and then feel bad about them, intentionally (based). anyway, Jason pointing out how different we are doesn't make me feel confident in our relationship, even though he is perhaps being realistic.

well, if he has lived many lives, I have lived more. even though I am 2 years younger.
what are some of my past lives?
once upon a time, I used to do mushrooms in west Marin with my first love and play guitar, naked, in the sun.
once upon a time, I used to graffiti around the train tracks in east bay with a crew of indian stoners and my depressed best friend.
once upon a time, we used to zipcar to chinatown and eat congee at 3am on the banks of Lake Michigan.
once upon a time, I fucked a guy from Yale in the back of his car when night fell on the Indiana dunes.
once upon a time, I bought weed from a hitchhiker on maui's Hana highway with my ex boyfriend who to this day still texts me out of the blue
once upon a time, I walked the quiet streets of the south side every weekend with my best friend, canvassing in the bitter chicago cold,
once upon a time, chris and I soaked in a giant bucket full of unnaturally hot water in the sawtooths, and got paid by the university to do it,
once upon a time, I slept on an air mattress in neukolln and drank club mate and wore all black,
once upon a time, i partied with hot brown British girls in Lido who were all older and cooler than me,
once upon a time, I almost lived in LA like three times,
once upon a time, I talked about sexy friendship with my brilliant sexy friends driving through Andalusia,
once upon a time, I drank aperol spritzes at 4pm in Venice alone, crying hungover on the ferry at the tragic beauty of life...


feeling pathetic, like I did, always, standing on that balcony in melrose hill, smoking a cigarette for no reason with chris, kindred in our simp. feeling pathetic, like I did, sitting on the couch in the dark living room, after seven rejected me, after I didn't even want him anyways, conferencing Jon and Aditi on the phone, who claimed vehemently, like the dear friend they are, that he was definitely racist. feeling pathetic, like I did, getting too high in Eric's apartment in koreatown, watching tv, trying desperately to forget that I had noticed that my ex had left me on read.
this pathetic-ness has roots. it is a familiar feeling. I have felt it off and on for years. by now, it should be my closest friend. but still I feel shame, when it comes knocking.
I stalk his ex on incognito. I know what I am doing is wrong. I know it will make my pathetic-ness increase exponentially. but instead, when I see what may or may not be her Pinterest profile picture, I feel smug, because although she is white, I am unmistakably hotter.
I think of Ella. inspired, I resolve to dress hot tomorrow, put on eyeliner, and take selfies I will never post. is 25 too old to be feeling like this? "no," I think. "I have until 26, at least." I have until 26 to listen to sunny day real estate and feel cringe and alone. I have until 26 to post risqué and validation-seeking photos of myself, dangling the ecstasy of youth in front of all who are less fortunate.
I realize that all of this is about me. I realize that all of this is in my head. I realize that it is important to prioritize the things that make you feel confident and whole, outside of a relationship. people (and their approval) are transient, but glory is forever...

it's times like these where I realize I am perhaps not yet a woman.


notes from india-
the physical therapist has come, as he does every day, for my uncle. "one, two, three, four, five, repeat," he repeats, like a metronome. the loud, hot buzz of my mom's hairdryer emerges from the bathroom. my aunt paces listlessly around the small apartment, waiting for the phone call that will tell her our driver has arrived. his voice will come through the tinny speakerphone, "madam, mai aa gaya..."
the monsoons are perilous and dramatically dark. every so often a deep crackle of thunder will make the windows shake. the rains come suddenly and violently, comically flooding the unprepared streets. drip, drip, drip - water falls from the roof. Kiran washes dishes in the kitchen, unfazed. somewhere, faraway children shriek.
the low hum of the ceiling fan is a staple of the auditory landscape of india. in the dressing room of a basement bazaar that would never receive permitting in America, the AC unit roars so loudly that I can feel the reverberations on the extra fat of my face. the birds chatter and chirp, the gardener trims the foliage, the wives gossip in hushed tones. all this sits on top of the constant, synergistic harmony of the various temperature-controlling units hard at work in every retail, commercial, and domestic space.

notes from sf-
the pain is perhaps easier to feel than to write about.