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AGirl & Her Journal
Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one’s courage.
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hot take: being excited about your differences with someone instead of being like “you’re wrong”
like, my boyfriend makes his tea without milk, and my response was “ew, you’re insane.” But now that I think about it I’m like, “hm, ive never tried it that way” and i feel excited about the prospect.
Or like, “acoustic guitar isn’t really a main instrument, but piano, or saxophone.” and instead of being like “we have to breakup” it’s like…an enthusiastic want to understand, to experience this new perspective.
I never thought about how good validating someone and giving them the benefit of the doubt could feel. How good taking an enthusiastic standpoint could feel, and the openness could bring a lot of new, wider perspectives into your life.
It’s not that you have to give up your own perspective to see, connect to, and understand theirs.
via pinterest
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There is this liminal space between a kiss, where my mind and body separate.
The two engaged are doing nothing else.
After the first moment,
It is only flesh on flesh.
But then, movement,
A touch, a grab, a caress, a reaching.
Somewhere, lost in this liminality, is the translation and it reads:
Mayday. I feel nothing. Nothing but the barest recognition of a part of me touching another’s.
In my liminality, the moment is surpassed before it has even begun.
I touch, but feel only the wrench of a forward motion,
It pulls me, whispering “more, more. More!” and I do not want more but I know I must oblige.
*
Though it occurs to me now that it is just okay to kiss.
Forever.
It is okay to touch again and again
To play more music
It okay to keep your clothes on.
There doesn’t have to be progression for there to be connection and enjoyment and pleasure.
*
I am so scared.
Im scared of being scared.
I hate this feeling of not knowing.
The inherent misconnection in the connection of bodies.
The uncertain, “are you okay?” and the breathier “yes.”
I feel like I’m trapped somewhere all others wish to immediately surpass.
I feel as though I’m holding up the line.
Stop this train. I want to get off and go home again.
*
I keep thinking,
This is college.
This is where you’re meant to do these things. No time is wasted time. You don’t have to chase the perfect vibe.
I want to be on a track. But I don’t have to micromanage everything. The right things will fit into my track.
…
tara.sky.p
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It is not fucking fair for a woman to discover her body or sexuality through a man.
How dare you take this experience away from me and turn it into your own?
How dare you tell me what is right and wrong?
Your body is yours, my body is mine.
But you took both.
Is it consent when you are asking someone who doesn’t know what you’re talking about a question they can’t answer?
I am forever stuck on this threshold.
“Can I?”
“Do you want to?”
This is not the same as, “are you okay with what this is going to feel like?”
You are only agreeing that you are curious about the experience.
This is why self-discovery is so important.
It gets you to “I know what this feels like and I want it with you.”
All I feel now is darkness, flesh, a big empty hole, movement. I feel concepts, not sensations.
And when a man is touching me I can only think, “No. I don’t want to feel like that ever again. You are not worth the risk.”
I am not against nature. I am against violent, traumatic nurture.
How do I take it back?
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Every time that I get scared about what other people think of my writing, or the pressure of having a writing account where I call myself an author...
I think about how I go on pinterest, and I see clothes I like, and things that make my heart happy, mixed amongst quotes and poems, funny fanfiction and things that make me think about life and make me want to write...
and I think
no one can take this away from me.
I love doing it.
So, I'm finding the love in things and building my armour out of it, instead of quivering beneath fears and calling myself strong.
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This is why I write.
I always felt confused thinking about 'plot' and trying to fit the feeling of my story into structures...it always felt like that was the moment that I lost the heart of it...
Maybe I just want to write my characters in fields and have that be enough.
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i think our biggest mistake, our biggest misbelief of adulthood is the belief that we know everything.
sorry to be a child
If being an adult means losing a sense of wonder, curiosity, the excitement of discovery...that's why we're dying.
Adulthood is not just love, responsibility, family...it's all those things through experiencing the human condition, yes. But it should also be adventure, novelty, knowledge. Not for power, for...truth, connection. How can we live on earth, how can we live around other humans, how can we live with ourselves without understanding any one of them?
My brother who studies medicine finds it insane that most people don't know anything about the human body. Where exactly is your call bladder? How does food work and what do you need to stay healthy? We literally don't know. So how can we take care of ourselves?
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We sat at the window and we watched.
The ocean stretched out for miles and miles like a carpet of blue, or and endless road.
Except there would be no travellers, no boats came this way anymore. Once a pass of shallow rocks on a bad day, it was now an impossible ruin of ships.
Tigress and I sat by the window and we looked out at miles and miles of blue graveyard.
Ever since I had lived here and heard the stories, I wondered just how many had died. Why hadn’t they swum ashore? To this house? Where were the tales of survivors? I had not heard any and I ached to be told.
source
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Life is scary but then there are black cats in crunchy grass peeking out from light yellow flowers and in winter you can wrap yourself in coats and hide your frozen nose in a scarf, and then life isn’t really that scary at all.
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This may be my favourite thing.
This connects to me just right.
The admittance that someone affects you so deeply,
Yet you can’t keep them because that level of affect is so painful
When they don’t want you the way you need them to want you…
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So much inspiration, so little time.
The Rip XXIII
Watercolor on paper, 6x7.5"
2023
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Find humans you enjoy interacting with.
Find humans you want to interact with.
You're an introvert, but you're much more of one when you're surrounded by people you don't like the energy of.
Furthermore, be someone you like the enjoy of and you'll enjoy interacting more with yourself and others, too.
Trust your body, some people really do immediately have an energy. Some people you naturally feel warmth towards.
One and the Same - The Clouds
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Okay but what if you can find the very best in these things? There is such a concept as urban beauty. Like, you're cuddled up in bed with your best friend (who is probably snoring) while you listen to the distant sound of cars passing. Or, you're cooking dinner as the sun sets while you play old music like Build Me Up Buttercup and humming along. Better yet, you serve dinner to a table of friends and they all do dishes afterwards while you chat and banter.
I don't know, I think there's a way to be happy anywhere, in almost any circumstance. And I don't have it bad. I get the primal urge that inspired my first post. I get the fear that accompanies the thought of our increasingly distant society, but there are ways to fight back and find connection without going back to living in a cave.
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One day, I will not be a part of this society. I will not scroll past these silly memes that deprecate ones position in society. I will not be lifeless. I will not be fake. I will not be stuck.
Whether I’m in the highlands, sleeping in a cave, or holding a child to my chest as I look at the full moon and listen to the leaves blow. Or whether…but I can’t say it. I don’t want to hear cars pass at night. Yes it is a beautiful concept, but I don’t like these bounds. Industrial structure. The human machine.
I want to be an animal. I want to be wild. I want to be unbound, I would rather be bound by nature, weather, seasons, land. I would rather natural disasters than manmade ones. I could submit to the horrors of the natural world, I could stand before them and admire their power. We still belong here even when we are burned, when we are drowned, when our relics are underwater and our bodies are fossilised by lava.
But what if the silence drives me mad? I’m a product. I am a human. Social. What struggles will I face in a quiet place? The reality is you choose quiet, or second-third world, or the bustle. Home is a quieter bustle. Somewhere many people can forget. Live well. But the rest of the world is still too close. I suppose I see that as a threat, not an opportunity.
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Like a rip, I was pulled into something at just the right time. I spent so long swimming, around and around, trying to find my way out of the rip, or rather, trying to find a way to keep myself upright within it, that I never just laid back and floated.
I love my friends. They are just right.
The Rip XXIII
Watercolor on paper, 6x7.5"
2023
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I think the reason I dislike teen books and tumblr is because it really is a place where the truth goes; trying to figure yourself out and the frustrating, selfish battle of it that you can’t quite see out of.
I’m trying to stand on the table. Try a new perspective.
Thought is not action. And I’m actually pretty proud of the way I act most of the time. I think it would be such a gift to see from the outside just how normal and wonderful you are. It’s like the back of a tapestry or the under-layers of a painting; there’s work that goes into making that. There shouldn’t be shame behind the thoughts, the inner workings are normal and necessary.
Especially lately, I’ve become someone who tries to say everything I’m thinking. Especially texting him. It’s okay to not over-explain. I’m just trying to learn how to sew, or paint, or whatever. I’m learning how to show up. What stroke creates what effect.
It’s cool, really. And like I said, I’m proud of who I am, and who I’ve been. Especially the past 3 years. This time in year 12.
I keep thinking about “you’re grounding.” Trying to remember it and to see it. I feel anxiety a lot. This sort of rush of feelings and analysations. The funny thing about analysing is you’re supposed to be equipped with the knowledge to make them. Ironic that I require reassurance. Probably a good time to remember it comes from within. It’s a good time to stop putting that on a future love interest.
All of this is so weird. It’s been such a long time since someone knew. Someone serious, at least. Everything else really has just been a game. This feels like some kind of test. Like, skipping straight to the hard stuff.
The good thing is that it’s so malleable. And I like being reminded that I’m a creator. Hehe, here comes the grounding. The world around me just focused in again. I feel stronger. Closer. I can create fun whenever I want. And today has been the first day I’ve been able to eat well. Hungrily. In a week. I am solid. This is as solid as anything else. What dictates everything is action and intention.
A brief reprieve haha.
This is a nice moment. I am grounding. I am peace. I’m reading a book at a round table with this really pretty country guy who stays up until 4am texting me and tells me not to feel bad. We’re not talking, and I’m not worried about it. Existing is actually quite nice and if I make that both my intention and my action, with no expectation…it’s nice. It’s calm.
Yea, so it got better. Talking, quietly. Eye contact. I ran out of words and it didn’t feel weird. I mean, I’ve spent the whole year feeling like I need to fill silence and I need to be more. Maybe I can just relax into this. I’m about to become like my mother, is I don’t notice the things around me and relax into them. Accept that I am okay as I am and people are okay with me as I am.
This feels reminiscent of sitting in my nan’s house. Those odd, tall lamps that cast light upwards instead of downwards. A painting on the wall. Quietness, peace. It’s that living room feeling. Not comfortable in the way a bedroom is but the ease of a sort of purgatory. You are awake with someone, existing in peace, in quiet.
Why am I so poetic? These are just my thoughts. They’re what I’ve learned. My perception is different to my thought-voice. I enjoy perception more. Body feeling will always be a favourite of mine. I can’t criticise the way my fingers stroke things. I can’t criticise the way fabric feels on my body or the way my hair blows in the wind. I can’t criticise watching a tree beyond the window. Thoughts are judgements. I prefer the way it feels to exist.
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sometimes i think about all the stories i could be writing but don’t know how to.
and it’s like my journals, i dislike when i havent written about something because i know i’ll want to remember, i’ll want to read about it later. i want to relive my feelings; my life.
i really need to learn.
robin elise pieterse
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