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the inevitability of public breakdowns

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hi.

sorry i don’t use this blog much anymore. but i think i will start now. i started this blog because i was healing, then i transferred a lot of that heavy lifting to my art, but now i am in need of serious healing and thus i need this blog back. everything hurts all the time. my brain feels like it’s suffocating and all i can think of lately is how i’ve always known – ever since i was a little girl – that my death would be suicide. do you know what that’s like, to live with that knowledge? death is supposed to be one of those things, those very few things in life actually, that’s supposed to be a surprise. that’s half the fun of it. not knowing when it’ll hit! but to know that you’ll likely be responsible for your own end? there’s a sense of control that’s oddly tantalizing, but also a sense of dread knowing it might be on a rainy tuesday morning when you’re upset because you ran out of english muffins and that’s the straw that breaks the camels back.

i don’t really know what it is i’m trying to say. i feel as though i’m a concise writer. i might meander, but even my meandering leads to a point eventually i like to think. either way, i guess my point is that this place was the only place i ever really felt hurt or understood, even without ever getting feedback or recognition. i just sort of like to believe someone is out there reading this and relating to it, and that that somehow connects us in ways it never would with others. i’m not okay. my health is aggressively bad. the kind of bad that wears a leather jacket and rides a motorcycle. the kind of bad that cuts you in a bar fight. not the cool kind of bad that jumps sharks on old sitcoms. my mental health is steadily declining, i’m mentally regressing, my teeth are falling apart and i have no say over any of it. i guess i’m used to that though, i’ve never had much control over anything in my life, so why start now right? i know i’ve spoken about it elsewhere at length, but have i ever told you guys (you know, the people i like to think read this stuff) that i’m developmentally disabled? a number of factors go into this, but a major one is that when i was born, my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck and i couldn’t breath for a few minutes, thus granting me brain damage.

i can’t hold a regular job, i can’t make a regular income, i don’t have friends really and i am bad at relationships. i cry almost nonstop, and i have to entertain myself all day every day lest i have a thought of any kind because all my thoughts send me spiraling. i used to like to sing to myself to alleviate anxiety, but i am afraid to speak out loud thanks to my interactions with others throughout my life, so i no longer even do that. i have never had a real home, and i never will, so this blog space has felt like the only pseudo home i’ll get for my otherwise permanently nomadic soul to rest in even momentarily. i eat 5 things, i don’t shower for weeks and i have to heavily medicate myself with sleep aides in order to sleep. i talk to an open empty void that never talks back. a lot of people don’t believe i am mentally challenged because i speak well, but that’s the only real skill i have honestly. my parents forced me into endless therapy as a young girl and even into my teenage years rather than even attempt to try and deal with me themselves, all the people i thought were my friends in school told me to my face independently of one another that they hated me and only pitied me and my stepsister committed bodily assaults against me repeatedly early on in life. i don’t have much to remember so i make up memories. at night i lay in bed and while other people dream, i make up memories. memories of a childhood i didn’t have, with friends i never got, with parents who actually wanted me.

it helps, but everything that helps is only temporary before i’m once again reminded of that inevitability. that one that looms forever nearby behind me, waiting to rear its head and take me. i’ve fought it off this long, i’ll continue to do so, if only because i’m the kind of person who doesn’t like to ruin the surprise. but it’s still uncomfortable to deal with regardless. but as uncomfortable as it may be, in some odd sick way, that inevitability has also become my closest companion. it’s always there, always with me, ready to help in the only way it knows how. i’m the one resisting. i’m the one who’ll continue not to go to my own surprise party.

i guess that’s all. i’m not doing well.

how are you doing?

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The Universe In Her

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Like stick on glow in the dark stars
she clings to me, lighting up the space we inhabit,
brightening an otherwise empty void
guiding those who are lost back home

She is a swirling galaxy full of wonder
and I would take a million rocket ships to see her
even if it meant facing the unknown.
A miraculous burst of life in a liminal space
giving awe to those who dare to dream
about the possibilities that only seem out of reach

A decoration? More than that.
She is the entirety of the night sky
splayed across the ceiling of this bedroom.
She burns brightly, filling the endless darkness with majesty
and holding tightly to the stucco
like the way I hold her hand

This is exploration,
a chance to discover.

And I intend to take it.

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Good Vibes: Now Available!

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Last summer, I started working on a new novel.

All I had was a very basic idea. In my previous book, “REGRETLAND”, I featured a friendship between two girls that lost touch, but reconnected and ultimately were romantically entangled. This time around, I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to show what happens when the friend you’re closest to growing up suddenly splits away from you, and how that alters your life, and without them really making up. Along the way, I threw in subplot after subplot after subplot, and eventually I realized I had written a new book. After months of editing, a few days of graphic design and some light formatting, I’m proud to announce that my latest novel – and easily the best thing I’ve ever written and am super proud of – is now available for purchase at my storefront right here.

“GOOD VIBES” is a book based around Halloween that released in October. How perfect is that, really? Clocking in at a whopping 130k words and 430 pages, it’s, at the moment, my magnum opus, and potentially my swan song. I am still working on new books here and there, but I don’t expect anything new to fully materialize anytime soon, maybe even for a few years. I have a handful of other novels that are finished and need to be edited and released, but this may be the last “new” novel you get from me for a very long time, and I think I went out on top, honestly.

So maybe buy it, check it out, and tell me what you think. I hope it is as personal to you as it was to me.

Thank you for your support, love you all, take care,
Maggie

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3am

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It’s 3am, and I cannot quell this sadness that rises in my chest, I cannot rest, though my bed is inviting it is empty, and that’s for the best. Your loss lingers like a word I cannot think of, and I fear I will never not grieve, for you, for myself, for what you made me believe.

Without you I’m speechless, but learned how to breath, my anger towards you is a sword I will sheath. I will hide it so it will not cut me, I refuse to give you that power, I gave you so much, hour upon hours, and you used it against me, like weed killer on flowers. A love that has soured.

It’s 3am, and I cannot quash this sadness that rises in my heart, how do I start, when you’ve reached the end then get pulled apart when you thought you had it together. When you thought there’d be a forever. I know it’s good that you’re gone. I know it’s good I’m alone. Though my house without you is not a home, it is better that I learn to love myself in the ways you couldn’t love me.

I devoted years to you, and what did you do? You wasted my time, fed me line after line of what I wanted to hear, and it sounded divine; but you were afraid, afraid to walk free, to learnt o be you and to let me be me, and I understand that, I do, which is why it hurts to say goodbye to you when the only thing we agreed on was how much we didn’t want to be alone.

It’s 3am, and I cannot quarantine my emotions that rise in my cries, as I toss and I turn, recalling your lies. You were the lighthouse that was meant to guide, but instead you let my ship crash on the tides, sink below waters below treacherous skies. I looked to you for direction, and you told me to get lost.

I would’ve given my all. I would’ve given myself to ensure you don’t fall. Like an architect I would’ve built you strong, built you tall, reinforced your structure and been proud. But you chose to break. You chose to collapse. To take with you everyone inside, regardless of who they were to you, and that’s something I cannot forgive.

It’s 3am, and I am asleep.