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Hey girlie.

I hope you're doing well. I decided to start writing again and I'm going to be doing it on here. Most will be letters to you, but some will be old poetry that you're going to cringe over, but please don't delete it! I got inspired by a girl who has had an account on here for TWENTY YEARS. Maybe that could be me in the future - but I'll never know if I don't start.

I'm starting to think that I might one day find myself trapped within one of my dreams. So trapped, that I'll never leave and therefore spend eternity in what I can at best desrcibe as a gorey, hypersexualised acid trip. Sometimes during a nightmare - where say, I had to saw off my rotting sister's limbs for an entire day whilst blood poured out of every cavity above my neck - it would become so real that I would wake up, realize I wasn't finished with my task, and go back to sleep where my nightmare would continue effortlessly as if it were simply pasued. And yet somehow, the the 'dreamworld' I live in (for up to 15 hours a day) is more exhilirating than real life. I'm aware that we're in a pandemic, but the fact that I try and live the shortest days possible is just absurdly worrying to me. What do you think? Has it stopped for you? At the very least I know that if I were ever in a coma I would be very much occupied and kept busy in the mental dungeon of my dreamland. By the way - when you pull the plug on me, don't forget to load me up with a fat shot of morphine. I am not dying sober.

Speaking of which, I'm going to smoke this bowl. I wonder if you still do that when you're feeling upset. I know you hate questions and you probably want to punch 19 year old you in the face. And maybe I'd want to punch you. Tomorrow (technically tonight - but I hate those people who point that out. Actually I don't hate anyone.) I'm spending New Year's Eve with Mei. Since everything is closed and theres an 8pm curfew - our only option really is to get wasted in one of the guest bedrooms to her ginormous house. T is in Mexico and I miss her quite a bit. I am worried about her though. The last time I saw her, she had just picked up some speed and her childhood best friend (who had just escaped... rehab? I think? It could have been a home for troubles The girl is 15) was using a syringe to inject it into her arm. Not to mention that she is in Mexico right now where she doesn't know anybody and have zero connections, so if she wants to score she might likely get a bad batch, or worse.

I've put off smoking this bowl for too long. It's all the weed I have left - until tomorrow. I love you, take care of yourself.



This has been, in many ways, the worst year of my life (so far, one should never forget that there’s a limit to how good a thing can get, but the bad can be deeply, deeply bad). But this doesn’t mean it hasn’t had anything good at all.

I wrote about a great pen and paper game for indoors before it was really needed, and you saw it. You’ve been here for the silly, the sillier, and the silliest.

I reminisced about good old days and people, and I lived through actual Mexican Magical Realism. And you were here.

I indulged in proper academic citations, beautiful mathematics, interesting mathematics, and opinionated mathematics. And you were here.

I gave some thought to my language and how it sometimes feel like a foreigner on the internet and E2, but I also shared books in Spanish, Spanish idioms, and Spanish words that led to at least one nuke (unintentional, I swear!). And you were here.

I won Iron Noder for the first time, and then the proverbial shit hit the fan. And you were here.

It’s been rough and most of the last few weeks I’ve spent crying, sleeping and trying not to cry. But I am here. And I hope you’ll be here too.

Here’s to 2021.

I promise I will make another “best of” crossword, just not now.

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