Callan

ai can’t write good because it’s designed to write pleasantly average sentences with all the right words in the right order and imho good writing requires u to strategically deploy a word that is wrong and maybe even evil

X is the best social media app and i will die on this hill

women look better with make-up. and I think that we should try to look our best, especially for the ones we love. at the same time, if I need to wear make-up every single day so that my boyfriend/husband likes me and treats me better, what the fuck are we even doing here?

today I have had a few items of food such as "afternoon bread" and "evening ice cream" that I do not feel like have earned the title of "meal"

it's been almost six months since I did something... admittedly inadvisable: moved across the country to live with a guy I met online a few months prior and had spent under three weeks with in person. I'm reflecting after an NYC visit, where my last three relationships ended. I'd moved in with boyfriends before—deliberately, we gone apartment hunting, ostensibly preparing to build our lives together. each time after moving in, I was so excited to make it my home. each time, I'd thought found my person—no more tiptoeing around inconsiderate roommates! each time, things went wrong. they complained that they didn't feel "at home" with me. that I took up too much space, made them small. I tried so hard to include them in decorating decisions, but they never wanted to be involved—they just got upset whenever I made any changes to the home. and they left me thinking I was controlling, dominant, unsafe. so this summer, I found myself sleeping in the attic over my dad's garage, surrounded by the vestiges of those failed homes. a lazy susan I bought for that deep kitchen cabinet, a whiteboard calendar with last month's dates on it, hanging closet organizers without a closet to hang in. it had happened again. I put years into building a home and was now effectively homeless. I had many reasons to feel bitter, but it was obvious that my previous attempts were all wrong. past-me thought I could make anything work, but never asked "should I?" so, in that attic with no running water over my dad's garage, I began to recalibrate. I'd connected with someone here who I really liked; I'd slid into his DMs months earlier, and he'd been a gently supportive presence through the most destabilizing and brutal few months of my life. he saw me at my lowest and didn't flinch. he didn't pursue me or demand anything, but he didn't run away either. I basically handed him the book of Callan: here's all of my past, my flaws, my mistakes, my shame—please reject me now! (I do not recommend this, by the way.) and things progressed from there. fast-forward to October, I showed up to his house with a suitcase and my cat. we wanted to see if we could work as quickly as possible. (I can't say I recommend this either!) he said, "take up as much space as you want or need—whichever is larger." but in my head those voices from the previous living situations echoed: Callan is domineering, overbearing, scary, too much. so I sat on the floor on my laptop every day, staying small. I put on headphones even when he was at work. I said yes to everything no matter what. I shut off my preferences. I did chores only when he was out of the house, and when he did the dishes I feared he was cleaning "at me." he picked me up off the floor and put me on the couch. told me to play my music on the speakers. he asked "are you sure?" when I automatically said yes. he listened when I said what I like/dislike. he laughed when I asked if he was mad at me for not doing the dishes. so when I came home from NYC to find the house completely changed, I remembered how my exes hated when I rearranged or organized something, even if they later admitted it was an improvement. now, I'm on the other side, and it just... feels like love. it is love. after six months here, after so many years of being told I needed to be smaller, I'm still learning to take up space. sometimes you're not the bad things people call you, you're just trying to be right for the wrong people.