inarticulate sparkle.

{First things first, I have a small inkling that Manifested Man has been reading these posts… only because all the worries of yesterday were quickly eased in a quick conversation. Not saying I don’t appreciate it, I do! The communication between us has been amazing. Maybe I’m just a little embarrassed… internet strangers can read my ramblings all day long but knowing someone that means so much to me has seen my inner thoughts… that’s some pressure lol.}

Whether we’re talking about relationships, friendships, hobbies, or my job, I only have one speed. I need to be the best. I need to be his favorite ex, I need to be the fastest, I need to make the best pancakes ever… Maybe that’s a personality flaw. Maybe it’s a competitive sport. Maybe I have a praise kink, who knows! (Manifested Man knows.)

I cannot just casually participate in life. I can’t just be a number, or one of the girls. I can’t casually sit in the back of the classroom and accept a participation trophy. I need to have the best stories, the best inside jokes, the best evidence and the best arrest reports.

Casual relationship? Can’t do it, my feelings are strong, my heart is huge and I’m going to make sure you know that I love you. Repeatedly. With eye contact. Possibly with a baked good.

I am not the girl who can say, “We’ll see where this goes,” and then peacefully go about her day. I need to know where it’s going, what time we’re leaving, whether snacks are provided, and if I should start emotionally preparing a playlist.

Casual friendship? Also no.

You make me laugh twice and suddenly you’re in the lore. You have a nickname. You have been assigned a role in my emotional support ecosystem. You may be mentioned in a blog post. You may become brother-ish against your will.

Casual hobby? Please.

I did not “start a blog.” I resurrected an entire internet personality from the early 2000s, gave her a glitter background, built her a sidebar ghost, and started referring to my life as content. That is not a hobby. That is a rebrand with unresolved trauma.

Casual job? Absolutely not.

I cannot simply clock in and perform tasks at an acceptable level. I need to be useful. I need to be trusted. I need to be the person everyone calls when something is on fire, metaphorically or, depending on the workplace, possibly literally.

I need to know the rules, become good at the rules, quietly judge everyone else for not knowing the rules, and then somehow still end up emotionally attached to the job that is ruining my life.

I was not built for casual.

I was built for overcommitting, overexplaining, overthinking, and occasionally over-performing out of pure spite. Maybe some people are built for casual. Maybe some people can float through life, lightly enjoying things, not assigning meaning to every look, sentence, coincidence, song lyric, or Italian vacation.

Good for them.

I hope they’re sleeping well.

Personally, I will be over here feeling everything at full volume, collecting receipts for the universe, making the best pancakes anyone has ever had, and trying very hard not to ask Manifested Man if he still likes me every time he gets quiet for twelve minutes.

Growth is a garden, and I dig it.