The original text by Zoe Leonard

16 12 2016

PDF for print in English

Source: The original text by Zoe Leonard

“You Can Always Call”

1 06 2016

It’s hard to feel accomplished when everything seems to be falling apart in a week’s worth of the wake of graduation. 3 1/2 year relationship over, in a way that one might expect a month or maybe six month relationship would be over.

I’m exhausted. and kinda glad right now to be alone. He wants or needs to be alone so bad, fine, good for him, but it’s very shitty to like essentially say good bye to the person you still profess to love as if you’ll see them next week. He claims it isn’t that far. Yet when….Oh I don’t care right now.


My head hurts.


6 05 2016

Here I go falling apart again. I wonder what configuration I’ll glue myself back together in this time.


Hopefully I can find some fucking glue, fast.

Why I’m cool with GRRM taking his time; today at least.

23 04 2016

I can’t kill myself until I read the last A Song of Ice and Fire books. That will probably give me another….20 years at least.

No more pretending.

3 12 2015

The truth is, I can’t get it out of my head: the image of my arm splitting open and gobs of blood spilling out like warm molasses.

I don’t think any one who actually knows me reads this anymore I’ve been so sporadic, so I think I can speak freely here.

I want to die. I want to die every single day. At least once I think of death. I think of it as an old jealous lover, some one who will one day catch up to me. A tear and a smile.

I can’t stop feeling how warm it is. Seeing how red it is. It’s just some days I’m better at ignoring it.

Not today. Today I know that I belong in a hospital. I wish I could be more selfish and just do it already. I’m so very tired.


All day I pretend. But it’s not like when I was a kid, where I pretended I was a magical creature of my own invention. Instead I pretend that I’m okay. That I can do it. That I am Sisyphus happy. That I am doomed for eternity to fight. But the truth is I’m tired.

Funny thing is I’m not even that tired of being sad. I’m tired of being afraid. Fear makes me angry, makes me sad, nervous, excited, impulsive, and it makes me freeze.

I hate being frozen. I’m a fluid person. I come alive in water. I’m meant to wander. And wander requires openness. I try to be open. But really I’m a vault.


More than anything, I’m tired of all my walls.

Styrofoam matters

19 11 2015

I feel like I’m drowning. the tension in my neck is making my body so stiff I feel like I am barely moving. I’m hovering above myself, close by trying to keep moving, but too afraid to be grounded. Because the ground isn’t going to stabilize me it’s going to knock me on my ass and make me choke.

Everything is a blur and I feel like I can’t hold onto a single thing. I don’t understand how this has happened, where did my agency go? Where has my mind wandered off to? Why can’t I just be myself?

But who is myself? Am I the capable person I thought I was. Or am I more consumed and affected by my mental health than I’ve wanted to admit. Am I doomed to periodically have to have “rests” in the hospital? This time I didn’t even really loose my mind, I was just very sad and wanting to get back on medication.


Sometimes I wonder if I ever found my mind again after that hospital visit. I feel like everything fades away, so what’s the point?

Why bother? Nothing that matter’s lasts.

Styrofoam lasts. Maybe that’s what matters.

21 08 2015

Blah blah blah blah blah, fuck.

The return of C?

7 08 2015

I went back to C for the second time. And he has strongly recommended that I go back to trauma therapy. That once a week or possibly twice would be good for me. Once a week I can agree with. And doing trauma work in the last year of grad school….could be good. Or it could be disastrous.  I haven’t decided what I’m going to do. I have a few weeks to mull things over. If I do the trauma work… I think I want to tape it. I want to document it for me to later use, in some way, to help me make art.

Or just to make a documentary about trauma recovery. I don’t know.


5 08 2015

I want Alexander Skarsgard to fuck me in drag.

Trying to write more

7 07 2015

It seems this road does wonder, meander even. What road, why the one of writing. I find myself straying and trying to stay the path, but really what keeps me from it is ultimately fear. And laziness. I’m afraid of what I might say, of the words or thoughts I might have. However I also find that when I go for long periods of time with out writing that my life does not seem to be real. This sort of dreamlike disassociation takes hold and everything is seen through the haze of a migraine, making me question my reality.

So I’ve decided to stop being lazy and stop being afraid of myself. So I’m going to try and set some goals for myself. Because goals are good right?

1. Write everyday: at least one line.

2. Post something at least once a week.

3. Let myself write about good things

4. Be an adult and get myself to the doctor to get back on meds

5. See if I can go back to C now that Obamacare and medicaid are better subsidized

6. If not C then find another place that specializes in ptsd

7. stop watching so much shit on the internet, youtube, tv, netflix, movies, hbo, learn limits and stick to them

8. be more committed to yoga

9. Go to the studio/draw/paint/everyday. Go to the studio when the shop is open so I can actually learn more joinery like I want.

10. Apply and enter into shows/contests.

Okay so there you go, words, thoughts, feelings. Okay. got some goals. Now to stick to them.