liveblog 10/12/25

00:12: I rip the corner of my bedsheets in hopes I feel disgusted enough to change them in the morning. But I still can’t rest. I hit repeat on ‘Good Luck, Babe,’ and hack at the pigsty of my room. I throw out the six unopened envelopes on my bedside table, the notes I took when a random ‘model’ gave me unsolicited ‘advice,’ and up to twenty spare batteries. My phone says the music is unsafely loud, so I turn it up one. Life is about finding unconventional ways to self h-{gunshots}. I can’t tell if I like the line ‘You’d have to stop the world just to stop the feeling’ because I saw someone online say they liked it, or if it’s shockingly applicable to my chronic inertia. Dust and flakes of faux leather crawl under my nails as I clear my bags. Sealed condom packets, earplugs, and loose medication. I even find a random baggie. I pick up a dusty packet of stickers, put a few on my face, then tuck them into my secret Santa gift. I hang the card Blessy wrote me on the wall.  During one of my depressions, I listened to Midnights by Taylor on repeat for months on end. To this day, I only recall Maroon. I wonder how attentive I’ll be to Chappell Roan. 

01:30: I fall into my phone, but climb from its depths at a pang of hunger. I gobble a punnet of strawberries and a ten pack of sandwich cheese 

08:23: Pop a Vyvanse, play with my pubes. Notice it’s slightly tender. Walk to the rectangle of white sunlight coming from the window. It’s an ingrown hair. Rip out four pubes with tweezers until the ingrown is pink and glassy. 

08:34: Mom texts ‘did you eat the strawberries I had planned to take for lunch? I even had them hidden.’ Reply ‘I’m sorry about that’ & get ready to post on ig.

11:31: I cannot believe it took three hours to post on Instagram. Sure, I texted, peed, and conversed with a follower about whether she should move to NZ, but I need to obey my screen time lock, or draft my posts the night prior. Still listening to Good Luck, Babe.

11:40: I grab my nail clippers and sit bare ass on the floor, Winnie the Pooh style. Each click of the clippers pierces through my headphones. A piece of debris hits my chin. I worry the pressure will uproot my nailbeds. My catseye acrylics have grown out so far there’s natural nail underneath, too thick for the clippers. I leave the nail with my grandma’s name long, and file until my fingers are smothered by dust. 

12:18: Queue a few songs from The Hellp’s dj set at Market Hotel, and hit the FOLD WASHING button. I throw a few shirts into a bag as prep for a holiday this weekend, realise it’s sandy, and shake it outside. A bottle of Vyvanse flies out. Wafts of the more aromatic parts of my body float upward as I dart between couch, clothes-rack, and cupboard. 

12:40: I catch myself on my phone when a bestie’s Instagram story says, “I have gathered enough evidence to conclude that oomf is fatphobic as fuuuuckk.” I wonder if it’s about me, though I don’t identify as fatphobic.

12:44: It feels weird picking my nose without semi-sharp, long nails.

13:09: Head upstairs to make lunch but end up dancing around the kitchen. Think about Valor when Freak It comes on. I wanna eat him out. I text him that.

13:19: I read the headlines. Australia’s banned social media for children under sixteen. Many oppose it, as it may damage young people’s political education, but last I checked, the youth were educated by Mr Beast, Andrew Tate, and Skibbidi Toilet. Trump winning a second term is evidence that propaganda and the alt right pipeline are still strong. Every young person has seen the same bombings, children without limbs, yet views are still divided. Political education is not at risk. Then, I change my mind. My belief in progress trumps most forms of tradition or conservatism. 

My pondering is interrupted when Valor texts back. We discuss his new crush, who reminds him of me. Valor has great one-liners, like:
“I think NJ men have imbalances. Was there lead in the water?”
“I’m texting him like an absolute psychopath like the inside of my head looks like Chernobyl.”

I joke that he could be seeing my ex, he says “let’s not even go there,” and that if I knew the guy, he wouldn’t want to know because he doesn’t want his worlds to intersect.
I say “There’s nothing wrong w worlds intersecting imo. The desire to prevent it from happening is the desire to stop the inevitable. Not to mention it’s a way we trick ourselves that we have control in our life.”

I tell him that I smile at my keyboard when texting him. He has captivating eyes. They make me think of the Nicole Dollanganger line
Trying to take you out of me is
Trying to get smoke out of wood
Love you, baby
His eyes are truly that… I want to say ‘scarring’, but that has negative connotations.

14:10: Mom walks into my room in a floor-length, flowy dress. It’s paisley print and regular blue cotton, but it seems to shimmer as she moves. She’s about to leave for a CT Scan. It could be for either her brain tumour or cochlear implant. I say, “Look how much tidier my room is.”
She says “comparatively.”
She asks if she looks any different today, pointing to her face. I ask if it’s a new dress, or if she got a haircut. She shakes her head. I walk her directly under my ceiling lights. 
“Nope, still can’t tell.”
“I’ve had a thread put in my cheeks. I’m less droopy now.”
I tell her I don’t see it, partly cos my room is dark and I don’t have my glasses, but also, when I look at her I still see the forty year old woman who birthed me after many a miscarriage, the woman who took me on runs when I needed shin braces to walk, that no matter what she looks like, I see the youthful smile she thinks she’s lost. 

14:23: Dylan texts that she’s on her way in 15. Fuck. Better shower. I warn that my room is messy. I screenshot some chopped girls’ story and sent it to a three-person group chat, even though it’s something I’d post myself.

14:41: In the shower, the skin around my butthole feels thinner than usual. I wonder if I’ve developed haemorrhoids from lying down so much. I scrub myself as fast as I can, thinking please don’t be here yet on loop. 

15:00: Wait, I totes forgot how nice being outside is. Or maybe it’s the company of a friend. Dylan’s over now; we just put on sunscreen and now we’re sunbathing and reading. I gave her ‘Homesick for Another World’ because it’s my go to ‘give this to someone to read at the beach or poolside’ book. I read the willpower one myself. This section’s exercise is doing a paired muscle relaxation, but lying flat with a pillow under the knee. Dylan gets up to use the bathroom. When she’s back, she says the sun is brutal. We dive into the pool. My nails reflect the white sun.
I play around like a kid, hold my breath, pretend to be a water bender etc. It’s warm and awesome.  

15:54: Sometimes I play a mental game of who’s going to check their phone first when hanging out with someone. I’m not playing that now, but Dylan just checked her phone, and it came to mind. All of a sudden, I feel vicious compulsions to check mine. 

15:59: Mom appears on the deck. “Who’s this gorgeous thing in sunglasses and hardly any clothes?” she asks. Dylan introduces herself. I get out the pool. 

16:14: I play with the water in my bellybutton. I suddenly realise there’s a trampoline right next to the pool, and we take turns jumping from it into the blue.

16:53: Dylan’s gone now. I told her I’ll let her know if I get up to anything later. I’m on my phone again.

17:23: Grindr posts there’s a top shortage in France. I make a mental note to go there for sex tourism. I check my instagram comments. A tattoo artist is upset that I didn’t credit their work, which I’d already posted in March but don’t remember doing. I credit them, but got the image from a different page who did not credit them. I feel guilty but tell myself not it’s fine because I didn’t know. I consider making a post of only their tattoos, shouting them out, but decide against it. I’m on the couch in the lounge and I don’t know what I’ll do this evening.

22:01: ANSWR::: GAMED. There were some nice moments, like salmon for dinner, or now, lying in the dark listening to Ben Frost’s Theory of Machines. I’m disappointed I lost another few hours of life, but hey, there’s always tomorrow :’)

22:53: Can’t sleep but too tired to stop my eyes from rolling back when I open them. Craving yogurt and apricots. So I eat yogurt and apricots. May have to clean to dispel this energy.