why it's so hard to be reminded that you're loved when you don't want to exist
reflecting on friendships and sadness + your weekly song and poem recs
cw // suicidal ideation
I often imagine what my friends’ lives would be like if I no longer existed. Some days, I fantasize about a universe in which I never existed at all.
Once, in a moment of misplaced vulnerability, I sent my friends a draft of a poem I wrote that explored a version of our lives together, but if I were never a character. I wanted to explore my absence and what it would be like if it didn’t bring someone else pain.
My friends said the poem, technically speaking, was good. The concept, however —Â
I know I am seen, which makes my desire to want to disappear more harrowing. I see the pain my self-destruction brings to other people. It gives me a heaviness that I can’t ignore and a guilt I can’t shake. It’s one thing not to care about myself; it’s another to subject the people I love to the disdain I feel toward myself.
For years, this feeling led me to believe that I needed to keep the sadness where only I could see and not introduce anyone else to the thoughts I was having. For better or worse, my desire to protect my loved ones from myself is what has kept me alive for so long.
I remember the anger I felt after a friend in high school told our guidance counselor that I was considering suicide. I remember another time when a friend told my parents about my plans to end my life. In college, some friends told the university that I wasn’t safe with myself. I know my friends love me because they have shown up for me time and time again. And yet, sometimes, to be loved feels like a betrayal. All I wanted was to be held. I didn’t want to be saved.
While I’m doing much better these days, when the grief of self-survival hits, I return to this space of poisoned curiosity. I ask myself again and again, how can I abandon myself without abandoning everyone else in the process?Â
I remind myself that because I exist, I am loved. Because I exist, I will continue to be loved even if I choose to leave. This tenderness, to me, is the most challenging and beautiful part about being a human — there will always be someone who wants us alive, even if that person is not ourselves. And for those days when I am so sad that I write a love poem about my friends and feel this need to erase myself from it, thank god I have them to remind me that I will always have a place where I belong.Â
with love + poetry,
a poem to get you through the week
it’s Pride Month !! happy Pride !!! here’s one of my favorite Audre Lorde poems to celebrate the month.

a song to add to your on repeat playlist
if you feel like everything you do has to Mean Something or if you suffer from chronic older sibling syndrome, Isabel by Isabel Pless will probably hit !

a tweet i can’t stop thinking about
housekeeping:
don’t forget to complete your one click today to support aid efforts in Palestine
unfold: poetry + prose, is available on amazon, bookshop, indigo, b&n, or wherever you get books <3
you can still buy paper girl from amazon, barnes & noble, indigo, or your local indie.
i love you. and i see you. and i am so glad you're here.
who i am: a writer, a lover, and a very Black + queer person. i love deeply, forget rarely, and spend most of my time cuddling with my dog, my cat, and my partner.
who i'm not: a therapist, mental health professional, or emergency service. i love hearing the stories of your experiences, but please don't send explicit or triggering details of your story without my prior consent.Â
if you're in crisis, please call 911 or use any of the following resources:
National Suicide Prevention Hotline:Â 988
National Domestic Violence Hotline:Â 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)
Crisis Text Line:Â Text HELP to 741741
S.A.F.E. (Self Abuse Finally Ends):Â 1-800-DONT-CUT (366-8288)
Eating Disorders Awareness and Prevention:Â 1-800-931-2237
RAINN (Rape, Abuse, & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-4673
The Trevor Project: 1-866-488-7386
This might be a new favorite essay (not just because I'm in it). Love u & your words.