My Open Diary

is the rarest quality.

It’s really up to you.

A promise can be empty words in a moment to soothe a desire. Or it can be your bond.

I speak openly and truthfully. I expect at least the latter to be reciprocated. When I make a promise— sober, because drunk Amber doesn’t count— then you can bet on it.

You don’t have to play me.

I’ll play myself by pretending that you are authentic, honest & true like me.

If I feel that my energy is not being matched, then I will block you out of my life; friends with benefits, lovers, fuck buddies, boyfriends, girlfriends, whomever…

I am too old, too open, and too real for bullshit.

Regardless of my feelings, I will no longer hope that the incoming message on my phone is from you.

No ill will wished. Live well. Be happy. But don’t impede on my peace with causeless tomfoolery. Come correct or don’t. I’m seeking harmony these days. ☮️

If you haven’t taken the time to enjoy the sensational comedy Bonding on Netflix, then I highly recommend. It’s based on a cute grad student, Tiff, who works evenings as a dominatrix with her goofy, but lovable best friend/side kick, Pete.

The newest & second season dropped this week. It’s funny and heartfelt and well worth the binge— episodes are only 18 or 19 minutes long so it’s easy to do…

Anyways, there was a monologue given by one of the sillier supporting characters, Frank, and it immediately shook me to tears which was totally unexpected. I couldn’t find it anywhere online so I typed it up here to read it over again,

“Anything seems exciting when you think it will change who you are. Like maybe I won’t be a total waste of space if I can find something to fill that space with.

But, instead, you end up being more sad ‘cause that emptiness can never be filled with someone else, ‘cause the problem is always you.

And how do you fill…how do you fill a space in you that’s empty because of you?” 

-“Frank”, Season 2 Episode 3, Bonding by Netflix

Standing with one foot on each ledge makes it hard to balance.

We buried my mother’s brother, my Uncle Mike yesterday. He passed from Covid-19 and pneumonia. He was an old fashioned cowboy and preacher, but also funny, kind, strong. His absence was unexpected and will be felt by hundreds.

My mother wasn’t able to attend the memorial due to being diagnosed with the Vid herself on Wednesday along with my little sister and little brother. They are all faring well so far, thank goodness.

The eulogy at the funeral was given by short pink faced man with a white rim and wiry mustache who claimed to be filled with the spirit. He shouted about the last supper and seeing my uncle again in heaven. “This bread is my body and this wine is my blood” he spoke on ritual cannibalism.

My giggles were literally masked, thank goodness. I checked my text messages on my phone to avoid laughing out of discomfort. Within those sixteen missed text messages, a friendship burned and my bookclub died.

I lost an uncle, a friendship and my gang at the start of the day.

that’s it.

this feels like a better decision.

They say when one door closes a window opens, or something like that…

But I’m not looking for an escape.

I think it would be good for me to allow the doors & windows to remain shut for the time being.

I shall sit in the still air upon my rudimentary wooden chair, staring at the white walls, learning to revel in the silence & solidarity of it all.

I don’t feel sad anymore. I understand.

I have a verrrrry particular brand of bitchy. This is not everyone’s niche of nuts, a quite specific style of psycho, if you will.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the Courtroom:

Please, for the love of goddess, stop insisting that you are into “crazy” unless you are prepared for the repercussions. You asked for it?!

Furthermore, don’t claim to be kinky unless you are prepared to prove it.

When I mouth off and act like a sassy little cunt, it’s usually for one of three reasons: I am PMSing, ovulating OR in need of attention. I will say some motherfucking outlandish shit when my hormones are off or if I feel neglected.

Cheat Code: A real good fuck, cuddle, and then snack usually resolves all of my attitude problems.

Adjourned!

I’m trying very hard to be gentle with myself. I am struggling because I feel so foolish. I was so exposed and vulnerable. I have never bared my raw soul so soon.

I made a mistake; I wholly gave my trust to a stranger and he wasn’t worthy.

It never happens like this; I am usually so much more vigilant. I don’t give away little pieces of my heart so carelessly.

He felt different; I felt different.

But I was wrong.

“What is your goal here?” I asked. “What results are you seeking?”

“I just want you to come to me for everything.”

What does it mean to live authentically?

i’m actually asking.

We tend to measure the value of our relationships by time.

If we spend a great length of time with someone, then the relationship must’ve been important or successful. In that same sentiment, if a relationship lasts for a short period, then it must hold less worth or be less valuable.

My baby soul sister, Bradi, is kind, deep, & wise far beyond her twenty-one earthly years. In fact, she has only been in my life for about one & a half years. Yet she has affected & changed me in so many positive and important ways.

One of the greatest golden nuggets of insight that she has ever bestowed was this: relationships, love & life are made of experiences. They are supposed to be temporary.

Part of the human condition is that it ends. All of it. And we never know when or how long we have.

So the important stuff boils down to: the moments that changed you, little lumps of collected minutes where joy shined from the inside, the times you were raw, honest, and vulnerable no matter the response, the times where you persevered through your fear and came out better for the effort: the experiences, no matter how fleeting.