it’s april 4th, 2022, & i gave myself a few days ago — or more days ago, i already don’t remember — a deadline of starting a new online journal on my teenage online journal’s 18th birthday.

i was 13 in 2004, and i’m 31 now. and i wanted to publish this at exactly 20:20:24, the same time i published my first post on that journal 18(!) years ago. but i… i wouldn’t call it “writer’s block”, no. more like, “should i really write so honestly about …?” yet?

or perhaps the question isn’t if i should write about it yet, because i already have, and i am, and i will. and i’ve even written about it before, and published said writing before.

it was more of a question of, “should i publish this poem where i say being dead is less painful than being alive and in pain?“

i stated

“being alive is more painful than being dead

— to some people, anyway” i added as a disclaimer, but i already knew my friend agreed.

“i absolutely 100% agree” they replied, predictably

i cried today, during the normative work day. that was the title of the poem i wrote today, while crying during the normative work day: “i am crying during the normative work day.”

and this first post is not pretty, or very poetic. it’s not even, imo, as poetic as the first post i wrote when i was 13. i hastily put this website (back) together, last night, this afternoon right before i was supposed to leave, i woke up 10 minutes before my therapy appointment and felt dazed the entire day.

this first post is not pretty, or poetic. i don’t have “writer’s block” anymore — and i honestly don’t think i ever did. i have publisher’s block.

what is the price of honesty? i can’t not be myself.

i can only hit publish on this because i’m literally sitting outside a bar right now where my new friend is djing.

it hurts to dance.

#HalloWelt #IWas31WhenIWroteThis #2022x

“edward, I finally remember where I belong. you have someone waiting for you too. there’s somewhere that you belong, edward. you should go and find out where.

it’s the best. belonging is the very best thing there is.”

♥ Faye Valentine

what else is there to say?

she smarts with just a few words.

I don’t hate endings, but they leave smudges. nostalgia is that stupid, powerful feeling that so many people waste their time over. even if we live in the present, we remember, and memories are the stains on the tiles.

I don’t mean to be melancholy, I just don’t know anything else right now.

so, salutations, sweetheart.

the truth is I’ve forgotten how to write.

#HalloWelt #IWas19WhenIWroteThis #2009x

Originally there was going to be somewhat of an introduction entry, but I forgot all I was going to say in it, and it seems useless now anyway. *sigh* Okay. Now on to the entry~

[ redacted ]

*sigh* In other news: I’m too obsessed.

You know, sometimes I don’t blame the people who think 13-year-olds are all immature brats. Seeing all the people on FF.net my age who haven’t heard of a thing called spell check, those who whine about reviews, and 13-year-olds online in general. I can see why people would think we’re idiots. But, I’m turning 14 soon, so then I’ll be judged with 14-year-olds, who are taken slightly more seriously than 13-year-olds. Slightly.

You know, I read a LIP [Life In Perspective] article a long time ago where the teen columnists were asked to give their views on allowing a younger age to vote, or count as half/quarter of a vote. Most said no, that the adult opinion of teenagers were correct; we are apathetic, non-caring, oblivious idiots. I guess 50% of us are… but we’re never taken seriously. We’re in love? Oh great, it’s “high school infatuation”. We have an opinion on something? Oh great, we’re “radical, typical teenagers whose opinions will change once we grow up”. One of the teen columnists had the nerve to say, “Try talking about a serious topic with a fourteen-year-old. It’s not possible.”

#HalloWelt #IWas13WhenIWroteThis #2004x