stray
a life zine aug 16 mou
Anything can be defined as ‘something’ or ‘any kind of thing’ or it can also connote ‘everything’. But everything can’t be something; everyone can’t be someone. You could say that language is like a mathematical function, where anything is the x value and something the y — a many-to-one function. The something I want to talk about is exactly that. Often, you will hear a person verbally identify himself or herself as literary or a linguist. What they mean by this is that they prefer (and most likely excel in) the humanities, the essay based subjects, and/or the languages. Often, people will assume that success in such an area implies failure in sciences or in mathematics. And yet, scientists will agree that they have a language of their own. Many others will admit that maths in itself can be seen as a language. We restrict ourselves through the words we use, just as maths aims to eliminate unjustifiable values of ‘x’. We limit ourselves through endless definitions in our spoken and written word, and yet the language of mathematics can frequently be infinite. What I’m trying to say here is that our world is full of contradictions. Our languages allow us to communicate but they never truly evoke in the other what the speaker is trying to convey, only a likeness that may stimulate the desired effect. So when you say, ‘write about anything’, the interlocutor (or reader in this case) will immediately think of a large number of options available to them, when what you truly mean is ‘write about something’, something concise and coherent and interesting.
home i get lonely easily. in a small flat with lots of people the eternal white becomes a snow desert a blizzard an asylum. scream kick shout ouch ouch ouch 
divorce in the space of 10 seconds i felt like a child again locked alone in the bathroom surrounded by tiles on tiles of white. tears on tears on tears of light. we never learn to (or we never can) stay away from the pain. 
I read my horoscope. I don’t believe in true love, or things being written in stars, but every so often I log onto the vast black hole that is the internet and I type in something along the lines of ‘daily virgo’. I’m a control freak, so I guess in a way this lets me delegate some of my anxiety. Momentarily thinking that something is out of your hands… its a safety blanket of sorts. Like all forms of faith. Sometimes, if I’m feeling extra nervous, I’ll look up specific things such as ‘virgo virgo love’ and see what comes up. Some people think it’s limiting your life. I think it’s just a way of taking ‘fate’ and ‘destiny’ into your own hands and helping it along a bit. At least I’ll know the gemini from last night isn’t my one true love no matter how badly I feel it in the moment. I’m not going to stop reading my horoscope. Even when it’s entirely off, I keep reading because there are days when it’s scarily accurate. And those are good days. It doesn't matter if the day itself was awful (my mock french exam for example). It’s the fact that someone else said it before it happened. I saw it coming. That’s the comfort.
girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl girl of
as as as as as as as as as as as as as as as as
student strong sharp smart good loud hard working. stubborn difficult ungrateful parent to parents parent to others panic weak short
breath
. . . girl is gone
I didn’t realise that what I was talking about was sexual assault until I sat in the sand, 60 metres away from my family, at the beach, a year on from that night. I was simultaneously realising that the reactions to sexual assault you read about with horrified minds and disgusted hearts are in fact very real. The questioning, the doubt. “Are you sure?” “Why didn’t you just ___?” I didn’t realise that what I was talking about was sexual assault until I put the phone down and felt like crying and throwing up at the same time. I felt weak and vulnerable and hollow. I felt alone, I felt regret, I felt worthy of nothing. I still ask myself if I’m sure of what I’m claiming. Maybe I gave off mixed signals? Maybe I should’ve been more forceful? Maybe I’m overreacting?
I don’t think I’m ready to write about this yet.