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insecurity, we all have it. some of us are just dating it

i didn't think they were when we first met. i mean, why would i? they were suave, confident, hot. filled to the brim with sticky hubris and emotion. but everyone has a vice, and the best of people keep theirs well hidden. so i find myself here, the place where all good characters begin-- in love. i definitely wasn't expecting it, but that's another story entirely. i think insecurity is a cautious devil. like the fairy stories i was raised on, it's cunning, a trickster. it masquerades as many things- pride, confidence, and anger being the most prevalent flavors. my lover is none of these things, save maybe a bravado that only comes from finally having the courage to live truly as oneself after years of running. this bravado is enticing, but not necesarily a symptom. perhaps the greater fault is that i am entirely consumed by their personhood. i, like a crocodile on a winters day, bask in the sunlight of their soul. if my limbs were iron i would carve wheels from pure stone and a wagon of aged wood and use it to drag myself to their feet. yet, love is farsighted, and time has revealed the true deliciousness of their personhood rests on the facet that they too, are human. so, we make our bed in the meadows and we fight our battles in the night. i speak more than i listen, they keep feelings like secrets. they shrivel and burrow to avoid, whereas i become louder to confront. our love is indeed an unlikely story. but i like it, and i want to make it. so, i find myself getting quieter, conceeding more. i let them win and ask them to decide. they do, and we fight sometimes. they would rather be disappointed than rejected. god, don't we all. i speak in riddles and they in fact. maybe we are too different but we don't let it deter us, for we are far more the same than we could ever realize. still, when i speak plainly they assume puzzles, when i gently correct they quiver, when i say too much they internalize, communication rought by years of passive agressive parents and partners before me. i, who have known none of this, continue my ramblings, wanting only to share more of myself with my lover. i say the wrong thing. there is no wrong. i say things. they hurt. i don't often mean it the way they take it. their interpretation is a faulty compass that rarely points to true north. sometimes the sheer polarity of their interpretation shocks me. i say i'm tired, they ask if i want them to leave. my direct mind cannot wrap around their curved one. if i wanted them to leave i would have asked. and i would never want such a thing. i say i am scared to become dull. they apologize for ruining me. i ask them what they want, they cannot give an anwer. insecurity is not a trait, it is a tyrant. i see them beneath the ruling scepter but i cannot budge them out from under it. so i try to be gentle. i speak softly. i conceed. i give them exactly what they ask for. i have been trained on what to avoid. i wonder if this training is making me trickier, or more like the partners and parents that made them this way in the first place. i am no saint, i wish i could learn to shut my desperate eager mouth, a chore i have resisted and fought since childhood with the will and stubborness that remains unchanged. still i ache. the constant intent on misunderstanding me ages my soul. i feel the ache begging them from within my loving eyes. "see me as i am, lover," it cries, "please hear me as i am."

@kiwibird4

Jan 13, 2025

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EXACT

Why would you do that to me? I keep trying to locate the moment everything broke. Like it’s a pin on a map I can circle in red. But there is no clear shatterpoint—no clean fracture, no dramatic climax. Just pressure. Gradual. Relentless. Until one day, I couldn’t carry it anymore and I don’t even remember deciding to drop it. Maybe the line was never drawn. Maybe I was never taught I could draw one. Is that my fault? His? Does fault even matter? Was it an accident? Was it cruelty? Was it just the consequence of being small in a world that teaches people to take what they want? I don’t know. And I’m learning to live with not knowing. But lately—strangely—I think I’m healing. Not all at once. Not dramatically. But quietly, like the way snow melts: slow and almost imperceptible, until suddenly there’s grass again. I’m letting go of the obsessions that gnawed at me. I have energy again, like I finally remembered how to move. I’m picking up pieces of old joy, half-buried but still intact. I’m remembering the things I loved. The things that loved me back. And maybe, most importantly, I’m forgetting the things that never really mattered at all.

@baixwar

Jun 9, 2025

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THE HOUSE IS BURNING (an Excerpt)

Hi there! I'm new to playwriting and got rejected from four comps that I submitted too this year (whatever im new to this shit). So I figure ima mess around n post it on new sm. Still a WIP but I thought I'd see what it'd look like on a platform like this. This is a family drama with shades of horror about two sisters reconnecting after the death of their mom. SCENE 4. CLAYBOURNE Morning. Over breakfast. Hannah and Jasmine are playing a hand game in the style of lemonade or something. Different lyrics though. Boxes everywhere. JASMINE & HANNAH How many shrimps do you have to eat. Before you make your skin turn pink. Eat too much and you’ll get sick. Shrimps are pretty rich. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Jasmine messes up. JASMINE FUCK. Hannah flicks her on the forehead. JASMINE OW. HANNAH So what now. JASMINE The basement. We’ll need a game plan for that because there’s a lot down there. HANNAH Is there? JASMINE Like a lot a lot.. I don’t even know where mom got most of that stuff. HANNAH The woman loved to collect. JASMINE The heavy stuff will definitely require Tommy Boy and I think Scott said he’d come by today. HANNAH Ooooo Scotty boy- JASMINE -Please don’t. HANNAH How is he? JASMINE Fine. So i guess for now we can start packing the quilts, silverwares, collectibles and throw em in these two boxes now. HANNAH Bet. JASMINE Good. They start taking turns going up and down the stairs into the basement. Jasmine yawns. HANNAH You okay? JASMINE Yeah. Just trouble sleeping last night. HANNAH A lot on your mind? JASMINE I don’t know-- its nothing. HANNAH What? JASMINE I had this weird dream last night. HANNAH Oooo I have weird dreams all the time. JASMINE I dreamt that someone was breaking in but when I went to go check I didn’t see anyone except mom. HANNAH Finally dreaming about her? JASMINE And I had this long conversation with her about like wondering if I was like good enough or something. Or maybe it was about something I left at the office. But I thought it was strange that the house was like super cold like if it was the middle of February. HANNAH Weird. And no one uh broke in? JASMINE No. Everything looked fine when I woke up. You were already here making coffee. HANNAH I dreamt about her all the time when she was alive. And you. JASMINE Really? HANNAH Totally. I’ve had dreams of you guys watching over my funeral. I’ve dreamt of her calling me a failure and a waste. But she did that when she was alive too so. JASMINE What about after her death? Hannah shrugs. JASMINE What does that mean? HANNAH No. I mean most of my bad dreams happened when she was alive. JASMINE I uhm. I’m sorry I never really wrote. You know, during your whole. HANNAH You’re good. JASMINE Mom said I shouldn’t. HANNAH No I understand. I mean my fights with her probably didn’t help that. JASMINE What was it like? HANNAH Uhhhm. It’s very uh how you say prosaic. JASMINE Pro what? HANNAH Unromantic. JASMINE Wow look at you. HANNAH Its quiet. A lot of space. Lot of time to think if thats your thing. If you wanted to sneak stuff in you could usually find someone who knew how. I didn’t want to. I guess I just used that time to observe. I watched people go through detox, I watched people who said they were getting clean lie. I learned how to listen to people who had been through shit you and I will hopefully never experience. But I guess I came to understand that I wasn’t gonna get better until I let go of shame. The shame that mom put on me, the shame that you put on me. Most importantly my own self loathing. JASMINE I haven’t been a good sister have I? HANNAH I mean I’m no better. But uhm. I guess until we decide to make peace with that, it can’t get better? Something like that... JASMINE Fuck. Maybe we should go to therapy. HANNAH Yeah I don’t know how we avoided that for this long. Jasmine awkwardly goes in for a hug. HANNAH Oh. Okay. Sure. Why not. JASMINE I love having this time with you. She still hangs onto her. HANNAH I do too. Beat. So what happened exactly when you were working with mom? JASMINE I mean what’s to say. I got to experience her for who she was. A powerhouse businesswoman. She was incredible to watch. HANNAH What does that mean? JASMINE She was a real leader. People do what she says. She always had a strategy for every move. Her standards were high though. She liked to yell whenever people would like fumble. HANNAH She loved the sound of her own voice, huh? JASMINE But I guess I was sad because I felt like this was who she was all along and if that was her then who were growing up around this entire time. You know? HANNAH Do you think she was a fraud? JASMINE No. Of course not. Her team believed in every decision she made, good or bad. HANNAH No as a mom. JASMINE That doesn’t mean she didn’t care about us. HANNAH An underachieving addict and an overachieving daughter with low self-esteem doesn’t exactly quell those accusations. Beat. JASMINE I didn’t like the way she treated people underneath her. HANNAH I didn’t like the way she treated the staff at rehab when she dropped me off. JASMINE I didn’t like the way she made me follow her like some pet. HANNAH I didn’t like the way she made me feel for wanting to be different. JASMINE I didn’t like the way she never appreciated all the times I stayed late for her. HANNAH I didn’t like the way she pit us against each other. Hannah grabs a piece of the old china. She hands it to Jazz. HANNAH Do it. JASMINE What? HANNAH Fuck it. It’s not ours. Jasmine raises it. Actually. No. It is ours. We can do whatever we want. Jasmine raises it again and smashes it. JASMINE Woahhhh. HANNAH How’d that feel. JASMINE Good! Really good!

@mattyepez

Dec 30, 2024

Top Recs from @head_olive_cephalopod

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PERSIMMON FROM KOREA

Had a meeting with a client last week. She’s moving to Korea and shared her version of “soul food” with myself and colleague. These were so sweet - natures mochi almost… Loved the texture, and she served them on the sweetest china I’ve ever seen. She says the shipping cost was insane because they were imported from Korea - but well worth it, wow.

@head_olive_cephalopod

2d ago

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BEFORE IG SEES IT: MIRROR SELFIE FROM WORK

Felt like this lines up with that new TikTok trend (yes - before you raise your nose up at me - I do enjoy TikTok’s). It’s a trend where women show the juxtaposition of them in casual/masculine leaning outfits, and then them in ultra feminine/glam looks. It’s fun.

@head_olive_cephalopod

2d ago

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10/10 READ: BUILDING A CATHEDRAL OF WHAT COULD HAVE BEEN BY MILKFED

https://open.substack.com/pub/caitlynrichardson/p/building-a-cathedral-of-what-could?r=5301mi&utm_medium=ios Read if you’re in a place to be cracked open…. Never felt so seen before by a piece of modern writing. Listening on Substacks audio feature on repeat because there’s still so much to soak up. Love her writing. Wow.

@head_olive_cephalopod

2d ago