Self Harming

I have a patch of 7 small dots on my wrist from where I burned myself with incense in High school. I have 2 burns the size of a quarter on the sides of my hips from holding a lighter to my skin for as long as I could bear. My self harming was mild compared to others, but I wanted to talk about it anyway. 

I didn’t self harm because I was horribly traumatized as a child or because I needed attention. I did it because I didn’t know how to deal with stress. Small things would completely shut me down. I was never depressed when I self harmed, I was just numb. The depression came later.  It was comforting in the short term to take my emptiness and turn it into something physical.  It validated my sadness and stress.  I intentionally turned my narrative into a sad story. 

I never self harmed to cause myself pain. I wanted to feel like I was enduring something, but not for the pain.  The idea of using a knife to self harm still absolutely terrified me.  I think the scars were a huge part of what I found appealing. Part of me knew that these small things-that were at the time giving me so much pain-would eventually go away and I wanted something to remember it. 

This post sounds very pro-self harm and that is not at all my intent.  

When you self harm, you are telling yourself that your body is not worth protecting.  When you self harm, you are telling yourself that how you are feeling is permanent. When you self harm, you are telling yourself that there are things more important in life than yourself and your wellbeing.  

Kurt Vonnegut, Ayn Rand, and Stephen Chobsky were very influential in different points of my life when I self harmed.   

Vonnegut taught me that life is ridiculous. 

Rand taught me that I am important  

And Chobsky taught me that I can be an unreliable narrator to my own life. 

But I also went to a therapist, and I only saw her for 2 sessions. What was most important for me in going to see a therapist was that I admitted to myself that I had a problem and that it wouldn’t get better unless I took action.  


18 or 21 Makes Little Difference

Can the government just raise the age of adulthood to 21 if they are not going to treat 18 year olds like adults? I have less of a problem with everything being 21-because honestly 18 being the age of adult hood is completely arbitrary- but I do get annoyed when people have all the legal responsibilities of adulthood and few of the rights. 

25 would be a much more sensical age actually, because that is when the brain is supposed to be-on average- fully developed. And, crime rates are usually highest in ages 18-22 than they are in 25 year olds. But, how many of these crimes stem from people drinking illegally. 18-21 year olds are going to drink, they should not be criminalized for it. 

Having some rights (drinking, smoking, marijuana, vaping) be held at 21 is babying people who, under the law, are legally adults. 

I think the age of adult hood should be 18 and it should have all the rights possible available to them. (Private companies, however, could refuse people under certain ages.)  But, if the government insists on keeping smoking and drinking at 21, they should change the age of adulthood to fit it. 

A look into my own bisexuality. 

Recently I have found myself thrust out of one crush and ready to fall in love with someone new.  As a bisexual, this leads to a lot of new doors ready to be chainsawed down (with love.)

Because my last crash was a guy, I definitely made myself more feminine. I worked on growing out my hair and wearing makeup again, which is ironic because it turns out he was gay. And now that I’m not attached to any guys specifically, I feel much more liberated over I how I can express my own gender identity and sexuality.

I was born and identify as female right now, but I did spend several months thinking I was trans in the past and even came out to my parents.  I think there is a subset of feminine-ness (?) that I really relate too, but it’s more of the cool, calculating, sexy feminine than the soft, cuddly, knowledgeable kind.  Although my personality is very excitable and smart.

Because I live in a very welcoming part of America, my struggles with being bisexual have mostly been small and internal.  When I am interested in males I tend to become more self conscious of how they view me, and when I am interested in females I am very conscious of how society views me.  I think I am more self conscious when I’m interested in males because I know there are certain expectations that I expect straight men to have of me.  Society completely dismisses the thought that straight men can like masculine women.  On the other hand, when I am with a female I know that there are several stereotypes we are expected to fill.  I have trouble separating myself from the idea that one of us has to be the man of the relationship.  When I am with males I also force myself not to do traditionally masculine things, such as initiating sex or putting my arm around them.  Those are little things, but they add up.

I wish I could say I liked men and women equally all the time, but I don’t.  Sometimes I even convince myself I am just lesbian/straight and pretending to be bisexual.  The biggest myths bisexuals are told is that it means they like men and women equally.  To me, equally implies a consistence; it also disregards that some people have certain types of people they are attracted to, and those types might be more common in males or females.


This is a good rule to keep in mind when looking for a partner and when trying to attract partners.  It’s best when it’s genuine, but if you have to fake it, DO IT.  You will probably find that being confident is actually much easier than being anxious or shy.

To paraphrase both RuPaul and Ayn Rand: Love yourself first, then look to let others love you.

You, improved? (Snapchat Poem)

With a swipe of your thumb you accept yourself into a mold. 

Is this how fast all our ideals are sold?

And how will you feel when you start to grow old?

When your skin sags, and your hair is gray, will your fire grow cold?

You look and you see what you think you should be. 

And it comes at a very small fee, you’d agree?

You given up yourself and what you actually are for a version of you, that’s just a little less you. 

More feminine, more soft, more beautiful, more sexy. 

Less creative, less contradictions, less daring, less you. 

But it’s hard to be you, when there’s only one you. And there’s a million them who seem to have perfected the femme. 

But everything you see is not all you can be. There’s wit, humor, creativity, love, jealousy, too. And all play a part in the story of you. 
By L.i.M

Poetry sucks my pertentious butt. 


Maybe if I was more clever, these would read a little better.  Whatever. 

And how do I ensure that you read the way I want?  The way I was taught.

I can’t. There’s no guarantee. Only you and me.  Do you receive?

I send these signals and I get no reply. Only you and I.  Till the day I die.

Pretentious? Definitely.

Desperate? Probably.

Yours? No. Mine? Yes.

So I write not to be heard or to feel deserved. I write to feel just a bit less absurd.


By L.i.M.



Feeling small? Alcohol.

Take a sip, an IV drip.

Mouth vomit, jump on it.

Fun! Fun! Fun! Regret.

Sober up? Big mistake.

The world sure ain’t looking great.

Maybe next time will be better?

Or maybe you just want to feel deader.


By L.i.M.

I am a hive mind.

For the last 10 months, I have not been alone.  I wake up with my friends, I fall asleep talking with my friends, even in the bathroom I am constantly messaging my friends.

It is terrible to have all your emotions tied to the people around you. It is terrible to one day realize that you hate yourself alone.  It is terrible to realize that you’ve stopped putting yourself first.

A couple days ago I realized I had a problem.  I opened up the groupchat I share with 4 other friends and I said, “Are you guys free today?”  And all of them responded that they wanted to stay home today and be with family.  So, I flipped the fuck out.  The whole rest of the day I was passive aggressive with them and sending a short little “K” whenever I needed to respond.  But I didn’t turn off my notifications, I still desperately clung to the idea that one of them would reach out to talk to me;  that I could once again prove my importance to them.

After a short drive, I returned home desperate to find something to occupy my alone time.  But while I thought of something to do a nagging voice in the back of my mind  kept reminding me to pick something I could talk with them about later.  I wasn’t picking an activity for me I was picking an activity for them.  Something I could use to entertain them.

I haven’t been posting on my blog for months, because I am intent on keeping it a secret and in my world of constant connection I have no room for secrets.  I became a Hive Mind to my friends.  I lost all my autonomy.  I lost all self-respect.

A couple hours ago I told my friends I need to go dark.  I can’t keep constantly checking my phone for validation.  Every thought that goes through my head does not need to be given to my friends as food for our friendship.


(However, I will miss sharing memes with them.)