Jasmine Jaye
Bio
Trying to talk about tough stuff tenderly. From Maine so feel the pressure to be sad and creative while looking at the ocean.
Stories (4)
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Robin's Egg Blues
It’s 3 am and I am having trouble sleeping again. The same brain that can really nail an Instagram caption also loves to replay traumatic mistakes and have me try to THINK my way out of whatever negative feeling it gives me. My brand of OCD is shame-flavored with a bit of symmetry obsession mixed in. The scene stuck on repeat is one of my greatest hits. Picture a sunny afternoon and you are me, and I am four. My mother is visiting a friend I am not super familiar with. The house is large, and to me, four and poor, it was very fancy. I am the best-behaved child my mother has ever met at this point in both of our lives. She says this so often that it etches itself onto my frontal lobe. I thought about being good constantly and defined my entire personality around it and cats, so yes, not much has changed. At four I hadn’t developed obvious enough symptoms for adults in my life to notice, plus the obsession with being good also helped me disguise that anything was wrong with me for years. Plus the 90s were a wild time.
By Jasmine Jaye4 years ago in Confessions
Some things have no words
My love is like a child’s drawing hung on the fridge without explanation. I could explain it to you until I am blue in the face but I am not sure you will ever see what I drew the way I see it. It is bright and colorful and has lots of movement, you have to look at it from all angles to be sure you didn’t miss anything. Most likely you will.
By Jasmine Jaye4 years ago in Poets
