There is a manner in which certain things ask to be written, not so that they may be found, but because to exist in silence, for too long, eventually becomes insufficient. It is not urgency. It is something closer to a necessity that makes no noise, waiting patiently until it discovers the proper form. This archive was born in such a way.
Not as a diary. Not as a blog. Not as something that is updated merely for the sake of appearing alive. It is a place where certain thoughts come to rest, those which do not dissolve, those which return, those which insist with the silent obstinacy of things that truly belong to you...
E. My besty, says heterosexuality would improve immediately if everyone admitted they were performing constantly. Honestly he may be correct. We spent almost two hours after school sitting near the...
Mama’s clients arrived wearing the kind of clothing that whispers instead of speaks. Cashmere. Perfect watches. Women with controlled voices and expensive hair. Men pretending not to notice each other’s...
Some women leave lipstick marks. Some leave cigarette smoke. Mom leaves perfume behind like evidence. You always know where she has been in the apartment because the air changes afterward....
October entered the apartment before I did. You can smell it now in M. especially in the mornings. Cold marble floors. Elevator metal. Wet leaves beginning to rot quietly near...
# September always disappears faster once school begins. The days stop feeling separate. Everything becomes schedules, bells, trains, homework folded between conversations and exhaustion. And yet tiny things remain. The...
Today someone in class said, “You’re really shy,” and I smiled politely instead of explaining the truth. I’m not shy. I’m observing. There’s a difference. Shy people want to disappear....
The second the train arrives I feel my body relax before I even consciously notice it. Maybe cities really do have personalities. M. tightens people. G. lets them fall apart...
# Finally, FRIDAY. All week I kept waiting for Friday like it would solve something. It didn’t. That’s the problem with anticipation. Reality almost always arrives wearing less makeup. School...
I would genuinely like to know who looked at Latin and thought, “Yes. This seems necessary for adolescents.” Today we spent nearly an hour declining words that nobody has spoken...
I know this sounds dramatic considering we are fifteen years old and not surviving a war together, but having the right person beside you in school changes the entire architecture...
The first day of school always smells strangely artificial. Floor cleaner. Paper. Perfume. Humidity trapped inside old classrooms during summer, and underneath all that, panic. Invisible but absolutely present. I...
The windows were open all day and the apartment smelled entirely like sea air and cigarettes. Which is basically the official perfume of G. Dad spent the morning reading the...
Why?
Because every thought leaves a trace. If something moved you, disturbed you, softened you, or made you think, leave it here, quietly.