Face Yourself

One of the hardest things is how I affect others. People don’t understand why I try to ignore them. I feel like I’m saving people the toxicity that’s resting inside of my chest. I feels easier to be alone but I know it does me a disservice to isolate. It’s fucking hard to be around people who are depressed. Even if you have experienced depression yourself. What do you even say to a person? It’s like having a broken heart. There’s nothing to say. No quick fix. The only true healer is time.


My poor mother. I want to protect her. She keeps asking me how I’m doing. Lying to her feels like the right thing to do. In fact, a heard a speaker say once, a way you can make an amends to your parents is to stop worrying them. I finally told her in attempt to stop having her ask me how I am….. “Ma, right now I’m just bad. Things will get better but right now it’s really hard.” I don’t want her to worry about me. Ultimately that worrying will bring her poor health. There’s nothing any human can do to change this.


I’m frustrated with my father. It’s hard for me to accept him as he is. Into the 5 minute conversation he asks: “Is there anything else I can answer for you? Do you need anything else?” Yes. God yes. Can you just talk to me and not act like it’s so awful? Can you be still for one fucking moment with me? Can you say it’s going to be okay? That I’m strong. That you’ve felt like this before and you made it through. I wish he would talk to me for more than 10 minutes. He’s always the one the end the conversation.

octopus lady

I didn’t go to class at all today. Indicating that things are getting worse. I’m getting worse. Today felt worse. It felt like I’m never going to catch up to my full potential.


Maybe I just needed a break. That’s what everyone around me keeps saying at least. “Be gentle on yourself.” I don’t want to be! I want to be strong. I want to be involved. I want to be a part of this world. (Que in little mermaid background music) It’s such a paradox of wanting to be more than I am and yet feeling so low and incapable of doing that.


My therapist said I have to be more gentle on myself. The world is overwhelming me right now and I’m a sensitive person. I took that as I’m weak. I’m fucking weak.


What’s the fucking point of being sensitive or being empathetic? How do I apply that as a skill?

I need to read some more Thich Nat Hanh shit man.



Got to keep things simple. God this part of me just wants to become a monk. Live in peace without any of the material things. Just pray, meditate, practice gratitude and help others. Christ, who am I kidding. I’m so far away from that place. I love cities, I love urban living, I love culture and mixed demographics and fried food. Why can’t it all just be so simple…..

Got to get back to my roots. At the core I believe that’s exactly what this is. I’m getting down to my roots and cutting the cords I should have cut a long time ago. Cut the cords to my dad, to my inadequacy, to the part of me that always compares and feels like I’m behind, and to fear.


I hope to look back in these posts a couple months from now with a new perspective. I hope I get to see how far I’ve come.


Day 4 meds. Don’t feel anything.




I am a 26 year old Japanese American queer cis female who is from the bay area and currently lives in Portland, Oregon with her pitbull named Yuki. She is my pride and joy. I have been sober since 2014 and started to work in the sex industry in December 2016. We moved to Portland about 4 years ago in 2013 and have been learning how to thrive in this grey, wet, yet charming environment of Portland. Three things attracted me to this magic nook on the west coast. Tree tunnels (as I like to call them) that tower over roads swallowing you into a tube of nature, people’s tendency to look you in the eye and ask how you’re doing (with expectation of a genuine answer), and tea houses/coffee shops are a past time here. They say this is the city where 20 year olds come to retire or the city of refugee weirdos who just didn’t quite fit in. My diagnosis of Portland is the city that embraces those who love to isolate and be awkward so if hiding out in your room to geek out on your blog or simply drink tea in your room all day is your thing I suggest you check out what the fuss is about in Portlandia. Although Portland is whimsical in it’s own right it has a major amends to make to it’s citizens of color. It’s been here that I’ve learned the most about activism and politics unfortunately as a result of the city’s non acknowledgement of all of their citizens. The citizens here although progressive in it’s own way participates in it’s own subtle yet powerful microaggressions daily. The city is vanilla to put it lightly. When I am not day dreaming of sunnier days you can find me in a tea shop rambling in my journal about the romantic fantasy of hopping a train or living out of a van, admiring baby doll heads and crooked picture frames, watering my indoor plants desperately trying to learn how to have a green thumb, geeking out on astrology charts, obsessing over Michael Jackson and screaming all his songs, flooding my earphones with Princess Nokia to CocoRosie to Mac Dre to name my top favorites, going to strip clubs, crying, praying, attending pole dancing class and learning a variety of ways to make my beautiful backside bounce, holding hands, blowing bubbles, dismantling the patriarchy, writing a story, a poem or working on a zine. My blog has no rhyme or reason but you may find some of those influences as themes in within my posts. What I do hope to do with my blog is expose myself vulnerably if nothing else as an act of leaving behind a documented record of my human-ness but the truest hope, dream in fact, is to help someone out there to feel less alone. I hope that through my ability to candidly share my rawest sense of self I can help build an online community of witches, activists, freedom fighters, freaks, mermaids, pretty boys, studly girls, theys, and thems.

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