saguaro
and when I look up from my phone and see my life
I wrote this last fall; since then, what I discussed feels less urgent. It’s not that I don’t feel like scrolling and social media is a waste of life; it’s just that I’ve ditched the all-or-nothing attitude and started strategizing more mindful SM usage. — M
I’ve been thinking lately. it’s been in circles It happens. I think it’s one of my gifts (idk if I should call it a gift to make it sound special) But for the sake of conversation, one of my “gifts” is that when i am on the verge of something, i can’t stop thinking about it. An idea or epiphany will swell up, dirty and stagnant, circling a vent in my head. It drives me crazy — or at least it used to. Now, i’m like "Hmm, what’s this? What am I refusing to face, allowing it to intensify and metastasize until it’s unbearable?" Like in this noah cyrus song where she says, “I wait 'til it hurts, I never can choose.” what i’m getting at is lately, the thoughts are younger siblings that won’t leave me alone. but this time, i am listening Thinking for once, i’ll surrender before things get bad And what keeps repeating is that life is short, and i’m wasting it. Especially when viewed through the lens of the whole social media conversation: how we spend our days hunched over phones, lonely and tired. Yada yada, right? We tend to talk about things (which is a generational gift our parents didn’t have), but then what of it? What do we do? Keep hashing out different takes and opinions until the bitter end? Something has to happen. Something has to shift. When is it going to give?
I went to an arboretum in new mexico and recognized the plants native to the southwestern desert (and surrounding biomes) but i couldn’t name one except Saguaro. How does one who has lived in a desert for decades need a sign to tell them what an agave or ironwood looks like? Like good fucking grief, someone get me a clue. And what’s sad is that I am intelligent and eager to learn, but like most, i’m lost to the fray of preoccupation. My thoughts are flitting and disjointed, like i am losing my mind. They have grown louder and more belligerent. GO OUTSIDE PAINT A PICTURE LEARN A SKILL ACTIVELY LISTEN AND DON’T INTERRUPT They also tell me to contribute art to the world rather than take take take and that these little hits from a virtual world are like drugs, but just like any drug with continuous, unadulterated use, they will kill me. And speaking of, I've become more aware of death. I swear to based God and regular God that every time i open up my doom scroll device, there’s someone newly dead or at risk of dying and it’s all so sad. It makes me feel guilty Because i spent my life like most pretty young things, being pretty and young, and that’s it. So, how much time is left — what i will be thinking on my deathbed? Oh boy. I think i will regret the flashing part of it that shows decades in a select few spots, namely staring at a real mirror and posing for my black mirror It will be too late. And maybe there isn’t anything better waiting for me offscreen. But i would rather know that for a fact, with my head in the game and my palms to the ground, than go on another decade over-caffeinated and vain (glancing at anything reflective as I pass), phone in hand, ignoring my life. So i’m going to head toward the mountains (metaphorically, 'cause, be so fr) because when I'm on the verge, seeing it through is one of my gifts. Idk if i should call it a gift, but I will for the sake of conversation
— M
Lyrical references:subheading - Phoebe Bridgers, Garden Song
body - Noah Cyrus, Ready to Go