I want to love you like the 90’s.

Conversations over lunch bring a lot into one’s mind. How many times he has to check his phone. How his girlfriend is insecure. He’s with a girl. He’s with a girl he loved. How many minutes is he taking to respond? 1, 5, 10. What could they do in that time? A kiss, a touch.

I hate myself for my body. That other girls hate me too. That I was born small and thin. That my hair never needs to be brushed. That my eyes can either show brown or green, and that makes people comment, “you’re unique.”

I hate myself for my personality. Blunt, sarcastic, mysterious. I am not trying to woo you, I am simply being myself. A girl that says how she feels and tells you what a piece of shit you are to others. I do not want you to follow me. I do not want you to love me. I do not want you to cheat with me.

I hate myself for what life does to us all. You were born in Spring, but I in Fall. And you know what happens in Autumn? Everything dies. Much like how I feel inside. And everyone thinks that is beautiful. Everyone wants to cure who I am. But once they take their reward, no one stays in the end.

I love myself for being a girl with blurred lines. Trying to understand everyone’s insides. Accepting people for the wrongs that they do. And loving everyone for being an un-named “you”.

How I see the sun in a light no one else can. And how I would never refuse lending a small hand. That even though who I am gives me such distaste, I love her regardless, I love at my own pace.

I want to love like the 90’s. The years I was true. 143. Me and you. A walk where we would stand side by side. Not me in the lead, not you as my guide. A love with no title. No tags, no likes. No left or right swipes.

Because love today, it doesn’t exist at all. The 90’s are dead. Perhaps it’s true after all.

Not exactly alright. But not, not fine.

I haven’t posted random photos in between my random melancholy thoughts in awhile. Recently, in order to express myself as I always feel I must, I have taken some photos here and there to cope with just another phase. I guess I’ll talk about it a little. They say that it helps. And I started social media platform for that reason in the first place. So.


After finally getting over my distaste for the people I was surrounded by, and re-learning my acceptance of others and who they are, I’ve been fortunate to observe a new group of people. How they support and care for one another moves me a lot. Kind of like a movie of rag tag kids with no one else in the world but each other. They feel like a family. Though I’m a person that keeps others at an arms distance, watching them together makes me feel warm and smile a lot inside.

If baffles me when I realise others watch me too. And when they approach me and say things like, “We’ve noticed that you haven’t been quite alright.” I guess since coming back to America, of course I’ve changed, but recently I guess I have been a bit of an empty shell.


To put it extremely bluntly, maybe seeing a dead baby does that to you. Being able to hold my nephew in the palm of one hand maybe broke a piece of me that I still haven’t been able to regain. I guess I can’t ever regain it… but patch up somehow as we must do in every tragedy life brings.

We as people never like to admit that we are struggling. We want to be strong and show others that we have no weakness. And I suppose this thought leaves us to slowly destroy ourselves.

On top of trying to heal from our tragedies, life keeps moving. Work, studies, travel, dreams, job hunting, relationships of all kinds, finding ourselves.

I’ve been given an okay to begin cutting medication out of my life. Somehow, being able to say that I’m not okay has earned me that. And I’m facing the problem I was worried about when I first began taking medicine. Am I strong enough to go alone? But that’s another discussion.


Emotionally I’m not exactly alright. Tears happen randomly. I am angry. And mostly I’m just not feeling much of anything at all. I shrug everything off as, well.. life simply is.

To feel or not. That is always a place I return to. But we still keep on moving forward as we must. Interviews. Friends. Tears. Art. Expressions. Goals. Dreams. What do I want? Who do I love? What is important anyway?

Of course, these times do pass. And I’ll look to the people I care about and internally thank them for always standing beside this existence that is me. And we will smile and laugh again.

I think I need to chase more sunsets like before. Recently I just haven’t been feeling quite alive. So I suppose it’s time to learn to fix that again.


Let’s keep playing!

Recently I have let too much negativity into my life.

It’s so easy to be caught up in the hate of others. When someone comes into your life that complains every single day about the most pointless of things… it’s hard to keep a happy face. Soon you find yourself looking around hating on everything too. It’s been awhile since I have been around a person this way. So I guess I’ve been caught off guard.

But as always, I only want to learn.

My mom always called me a rebel wise old soul. I’m starting to understand what she means. I can only put in my best work. That’s what I should be judged on. Who I am inside, what I feel or say, should not take away from how hard I try to do my best. But I guess because I believe in a free life, it confuses others and threatens them.

Every step is a step toward learning more. Already I feel I could die and have no regrets. But since I guess it’s not my time just yet, I want to keep living this way. People can’t understand me. They can’t understand that sometimes some of us have to live differently. I tried to fit a mold before… And I decided then that my best option at happiness was to jump in front of a train.

People that see me now, they couldn’t imagine that. On the outside, you know nothing about a person. And it’s hard to tell others, “I literally do not give a fuck what other people think of me.”

People want to be respected…? I think people just want to have power. There is the respect in a sense of, “oh, this is your personal space.” And the respect as in, “I will listen to you.” And also the respect of, “You’re a good person. Despite all I know about you.” People hide themselves to earn respect in the third sense. I don’t find respect in that at all. I respect those that are honest to the core. They fess up about the “awful” things that they do, and you can still see into their heart and know, they are a good person.

That’s the respect I think matters if you want to judge a person. And I won’t ever lie to myself or to others to earn it.

See. I always have to admit this. I am a child.

A child of streets, abandon, love, nature, the world, this universe. I will forever remain a child. People can hate me and scold me and have no respect for me all they want to. I will love them just the same. Because I love myself as I am. And it must be hard to be trapped inside oneself that much. I was there once too.

I think that life is about play. Everyone makes it about work, and I believe that’s why so much of the world is unhappy. We become zombies to earn respect and to earn money and have the world perceive us as worthy individuals.

I would rather be an outcast. There is nothing in the world worth that to me.

Life is simply a game.

I’ve grown up always hearing that I’m immature, unrealistic, childish, selfish, etc. All of these people telling me this are telling me to stop playing. Do you want to know what happens on the day I stop playing? My death.

So I’m looking forward to playing pretend. And I’m looking forward to July when I can start a new game.

Thank you to everyone that is always supporting me and playing with me. And thank you to those that recently have accepted me so kindly into your family.

I may be a child, but the happiness of others is worth every sneer.


Xavier James

This content may be upsetting for some readers.

2016 ended in my baby sister finding out that she would give birth to a baby boy in April of this year. Little Xavier James. January 10th, we found out his heart had stopped beating.

I received a message, “Sometime between now and our last app…” That’s all I could see at first of the message on my phone’s screen. I was at work, and I thought happily that the message would say “Sometime between now and our last appointment will you take pregnancy pictures for me.” That’s what I really thought… But when I opened it fully it read, “Sometime between now and our last appointment, we lost him.”

At first I didn’t really grasp the full situation. At first I simply thought, “My sister needs me.” So I rushed out to call her. At first I wasn’t even thinking about the baby who had passed away. Simply how unfair life is. For how much my sister has been through in her short time on this Earth already, for her first son to be taken so cruelly away from her this far along. I was just so mad.

And then it faded to acceptance. How the world IS unfair. How Xavier was much too good to be forced to live the burden of a life. That everything would be okay and that my sister would triumph over yet another emotionally hurdle in life and go on to do amazing things.

Which she is doing. The strength of my sister through this whole ordeal is possibly what gets to me the most. How incredibly strong she is. How rationally and maturely she talks to doctors and to her family and to herself. She is a lot stronger than I am. I guess that annoys me about myself the most.

That I can make this appearance in front of her to be strong. To not cry. And maybe this isn’t about losing my nephew at all. Maybe it’s the most simple form of having seen a little precious innocent human being so soon.

Xavier was born January 15th, 2017 at 12:22 am.

He looked just like his dad. But he had my sister’s nose.

This perfectly imperfect image is plastered into my brain. And I guess that’s what hurts.

Little Xavier James lived. And he is incredibly loved.

I’m not sure what I believe spiritually, but I know that he is apart of this universe and we will always love him, and I know I will do my best to let him live through me as well.

Xavier, thank you for existing and being apart of my life for this time. The excitement I felt knowing I would have another little boy to spoil gave me immense joy and I will never ever forget you.

Mom’s Story: Metamorphasis Metaphors

Recently, as usual when I go to write, I’ve been feeling rather depressed…

I don’t think that’s a big shock about me anymore. Holly is diagnosed with depression and anxiety. She is prescribed daily medication. Sometimes she acts really weird and stand-off-ish. Occasionally suicidal.

It’s been difficult the past month with graduation, family-affairs, daily life. I get stuck wondering, well… how do I improve myself?

Usually in my worst days I always find myself calling Mom.

Mom and I never had a relationship in which people would call normal, but to me, it seems I’ve always been opposite of what people around me consider normal, so I wouldn’t have it any other way. So as much as the people in my life I have tried to make me believe this kind of relationship is wrong, fuck off, because this is what works in my case. Perhaps love really is felt best at a distance for some of us. And that’s okay.


I’d never thought what actually happens during metamorphosis inside the cocoon. I just left it at, a worm like creature wraps itself up and magically emerges as a butterfly. Mom told me today that a caterpillar goes through Hell inside that cocoon. I felt the best way to describe it, since I couldn’t find any revealing images, is that of a werewolf.

When a werewolf transforms, its whole body breaks. Each bone cracks and changes. The muscles change. The jaw elongates, the teeth, the eyes, spine, etc, etc. I remember thinking once that this is probably what makes a werewolf so angry in the first place.

A caterpillar must feel similar inside the cocoon. And my mom related it back to anxiety and depression. How we who deal with this “illness” lock ourselves away. Usually wrapped in bed. Dark rooms. Dark thoughts. We feel completely empty and lost inside.

So the caterpillar becomes the same way. As it wraps itself up in it’s own darkness.. it destroys itself. And emerges as something totally new. It’s been simple enough for me to notice that every time I make it through an episode of depression to know that each time it passes I am able to feel a new sense of hope and determination. But it always begins to feel like an endless cycle. That no matter how much I think I grew, it’s never enough.

So my challenge is to be okay with that. Because the day I stop growing should be the day that I die. I should always be happy and willing to change. My improvements may be more dramatic than others, but it is my way. Just as a chick, foal, larvae, all grow differently, so do we. So as many times as I lock myself away and kill myself inside, I hope that I can always emerge as something more beautiful each time.

So as I usually say; I want to become stronger. So I’ll continue trying.


“What do you want?”

Yesterday was a graduation ceremony. And today, I’m a university alumni. As I suspected, my feelings are a bit confused.

One of the most basic human emotions, one I try very, very, hard to always ignore, is envy. I used to be a very envious child. I wanted to look like this person. I wanted parents like this person. I wanted the smarts of so and so. etc, etc. I was never good enough as myself.

In high school I accepted that, my life is the life I was given and that somehow, I had to make it work, so I feel like, since that time, I haven’t wanted so much the life of anyone else.

And then I went downtown last night. I saw so many families laughing together. I saw all of these families coming together to celebrate. Dancing, singing, doing shots, being extremely obnoxious… And I felt such a burning in my stomach that I haven’t felt in a very long time. I really wanted to be happy like that.

The past year I’ve heard so often, “What do you want?” “From me, from yourself, from life.” People always expect an answer from the question, and it’s so hard for them to accept from me that I don’t want anything. It’s a really frustrating thing to explain. But I wanted to give it a go.

If you can’t live without a want from me, then simply, I want to see beautiful things. (And you can stop reading here.)

When I wanted things, I was so unhappy. You can argue with me the difference between wanting and being envious, but for me, my definitions are similar. You can tell me how sad and depressing I am for this answer, but that’s not it at all either.

You can’t understand a person to their core, you know. And just because the words I choose are different than yours, it doesn’t mean I’m as broken as people that ask me this question make me sound. “Oh. You just don’t know what you want. So you fill that with just anything.”

Not to say I’ve never been supported. And not to say that no one cares. But where I am today is because I got myself here. And just because I don’t want anything, it doesn’t mean that I don’t strive for more.

There’s a lot I put myself down for, mostly feeling that I don’t try hard enough.But I won’t ever doubt myself again that I’ve come to this point by living the most true to myself that I can.

Wanting and expecting things from anyone and from life are completely useless to me. So to answer all your questions, I simply hope to strive for more. Whatever that means in my current and future endeavours.

Til the evening.

I’m sitting on my bathroom floor, with a cinnamon candle, while the bath fills with scorching hot water, and Honne plays on Spotify. 20 years and I’m still finding myself in this same exact position.


Maybe because it’s snowing. Maybe because I’ve been reading a lot. Maybe because I graduate in a few weeks. Most likely because I keep very lonely company. But I’ve been thinking a lot about life, as always, but more than usual. You know how the phases go.

My boss asked me yesterday, “What are your goals in life?” I really hate that question a lot. I don’t know how to answer it. It always just feels like a reason for people to add in their own judgement. But she didn’t do that. I could have made up a lot words that a boss would like to hear. How motivated I am. I much I want to improve in my current affairs. I’m really good at telling people what I think they want to hear. But I was honest. “I don’t really know. I want to travel. Meet cool people.”


I always say my feelings lately are totally normal. Going through the “oh fuck, what do I do after graduation” phase of life. But it’s not really a phase I’m realising. Every single day, we are always asking ourselves, “what the fuck am I doing?” No matter how selfless I am. No matter how selfish I am. Honestly, the quality of my feelings haven’t changed at all. Being selfish of course brings many more opportunities. But being selfless brought a small sense of belonging. Can there be both? Is something I wonder a lot lately. But to want both… that in itself is purely selfish.

When I first came back to this place I remember that I felt I could go anywhere in the world with fresh feelings. Lately however, I feel like somehow every place is tainted. For now, in the simplest, I am stuck between America and Japan. Where do I go after I graduate? (This is rhetorical.) Both places, hold shadows that I still feel like running from. But Japan is the closest thing to ever feel like whatever a home should be. Do I go there and face my problem head on? Yet. Either way. The problem remains the same. Loneliness I suppose it is. Just a stupid human emotion, doesn’t mean anything, but I feel like writing about it.


Japan’s loneliness is both a blessing and curse. I like how I can feel alone in the busy streets of Tokyo. That somehow in this sea of bodies, I’m the only one that exists. My own world. Yet, between my own walls and the one’s around those that occupy Japan, there is little space to feel value. America’s loneliness is a little more heartache. I’m surrounded by familiar faces. People that I use the word “love” for. And still, it’s just a mass of broken promises and “do this for me”.

I think a lot about why people are lonely and what makes us that way. Mostly in the ways of cheating. Maybe because I’ve been cheated on. Maybe because I’ve been the cheated with. (oops). But it’s a huge mystery to me. And everyone has their own reasons, but it all boils down to the same thing, a feeling of loneliness. Maybe your partner can’t understand you. Sex isn’t good. Etc, etc. Some part of these people is simply trying to fill a void someplace in their heart that feels lonely or unloved. Even when the people closest to us are supposed to fill all of those holes.


They don’t though do they? With out even realising it, the one’s we are closest to, make us feel so incredibly empty. As do we to them. So the past two years I’ve noticed I live my life in months. Countdowns until my connections with whoever I’m close to stretches apart, more, and more until it finally snaps and is lost. In a world that I used to crave permanence in, I find myself begging for only temporary motions.

A few months in this place. A set time at this job. A year with new friends. A friendly, “is this a relationship or are we just friends” kind of fling. I haven’t decided if this is the best way to live my life or not. I know most of me is simply afraid of letting anyone make me as comfortable as I once was. Stagnant in life. Miserable. But comfortable. But another part of me genuinely feels that this is how I’m supposed to be.