June 13, 2023 - April 8, 2025
Cold showers and nectarines. Lay on the floor.
Listen to jazz music, classical too.
Get regular massages, hit things.
Curl your hair, make it fluffy. Burn candles.
Think about justice, control, and power often.
Breathe deeply. Wake up. Recycle.
Find your color and wear it. Keep your nails done nicely. Toes too.
Get lost in your lethargy.
Consume unholy amounts of sourdough.
Stop wearing your glasses so you can't see the consequences of your actions.
Braid your hair, leave it for days.
Wake up with dried blood underneath your fingernails and wonder where it came from.
Drink gut-rotting energy drinks, disassociate like a mother fucker. Walk.
Mix metals. Shut people out.
Become astonished by the fact that you are not hungry.
End relationships that never started.
Self sabotage. Eat oranges.
Live out of a suitcase; travel.
Lay in the sun; burn a bit.
Learn that you cannot, in fact, write a song.
Mend the holes in your clothes. Bake cookies.
Let time pass through you.
Use writing as a coping mechanism that doesn't quite work.
Find peace in two places—one of them: your fantasies.
Talk to your reflection like you are old friends. Because, really, you are.
Whimper like a wounded dog.
Play an exceptional amount of sudoku.
Your anxiety will show up in the form of bile in your throat and tears in your eyes.
Not on the bad days, though. Collect quotes.
see yourself in every song you will ever listen to.
Find more empathy for animals than people.
Find pain you didn't know existed.
Don’t get upset about things you cannot control.
That being said, lose your shit about everything you can.
Tie your shoes so you can run if you have to.
Blast music so you don't have to hear the ringing.
You like the smell of lavender and lilac and diet sodas that will probably kill you.
Fall asleep at noon and wake up once everyone’s asleep.
You like the smell of your mom when she comes home from work.
Find yourself wholly engrossed in the media you consume.
Listen to the same song over and over again.
Shop compulsively. Do not engage.
Let images flash through you.
Try not to think too much about what they might mean.
Find no easy answers about joy and grief
Your sword is on fire; your pen is bloody. Find grief.
except that the two are one.
Note: Browse on desktop—it looks better (mostly)
Contact: janeebbert.retail@gmail.com
