i would like to work in another archive this summer. sign to a new agency, write more songs, understand my social avoidance, find my summer scent, go to portugal & japan — be far away
in my mother is the sensitivity to my own misery i’ve lost, the ability to earnestly express it. she sleeps better now and is relieved to not wake up every morning with agonizing anxiety. it’s so sad to see the old me in her, to know what i’ve inherited and abandoned still lives in her or to realize i’ve lost a relationship to myself that was central to my identity for so long. i’m relieved to be less affected by misery but the absence of emotional purity is daunting
