TRIGGER WARNING: disordered eating, hospitalization, gore/blood, death

I remember the patterned sheets. The tube giving me an uncomfortable warmth.

I remember the venue, crowded and loud. The hydrating and motherly gave needles and stickers, stinging and mark making. “Keep it as a souvenir”.

I remember the color of my medications, once doing my makeup similarly. The soft blue and stark white of antidepressants, supplement translucency, the fish oil’s yellow.

Feeling in a terribly stereotypical movie- chew and spit; the textures enveloping.

I remember highway silence, was the end near? What songs would I like to hear?

I hated the internal anger, I wanted to feel kind. The metallic taste of these capsules; the false fullness. How had this become the new normal?

I now am the warmer bed of my own. The uncomfortable but necessary warmth.


My nearing centenarian “papa” / grandfather so graciously answered these questions that were submitted via my instagram by you all.

*Jorge turns 96 in the coming weeks.

Jorge (he/him) has lived a long life and is (undoubtedly biased opinion) my favorite human. After graduating high school in Spain and leaving home at age 18, he studied and lived in a monastery for years. He decided on studying philosophy via a Bachelor’s degree. …


TW: Compulsions

This is a draft of a prompt for a mental health essay I wrote, at age 17.

“Something as simple as a dropped pencil is not simple in my mind.

Vivian Laurent

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