Memories Projected Into The Future And Preserved For Future Use (Secrets)
Hand-bound 120-page book on the most beautiful pink paper

Life is a thousand years long, and only a moment, all at the same time. What seems solid and unchanging will always crumble in an instant and nothing will ever grow there again as it had before. Virginie Despentes wrote about that. You live further outside of your body than you might think, and you’re usually looking into the universe or perhaps some dense fog instead of within, always seeing yourself, never looking into a mirror. There will always be this huge thing that is every moment and every memory and every wish all the time. It will be breakfast and lunch and dinner and the creak in every floorboard and every stranger at the coffee shop, and you will reach for it and wrap around it and yearn for it inside of you. And it will follow you, attached at your feet like your shadow, to the places you wanted to go alone, and the places you needed to be with only one other. Sometimes it becomes realer and, in turn softer, or sometimes it gnaws at you until you just fucking hate it, and sometimes it just sort of grows differently than you and one day you set it down and forget to pick it back up again. The latter is the strangest. To feel something in your teeth when you wake up every morning, and to cry for it to eat you alive, then to one day feel the same way about it that you feel about a shirt you never wear anymore. It’s just weird, your life will always happen in seasons, none of them ever stretching too far.
This is a collection of virtual diary entries: everything I wrote on Tumblr between August 9, 2022 and April 30, 2023. My deepest darkest secrets all printed into a little pink book.