
sad girl diaries
Elizabeth Sheline '22
Spring 2020
n’somnia and peepholes
what kind of schedule do you keep
a regular one
i say
as the clock reads 3
around 4
i surrender to everybody’s everything
an alluring documentary
on the late emo-trap star
lil peep
i’m confused
yet absorbed
frightened
yet reminded
of music on myspace
brokencyde
and other crunkore, sad, pathetic wigger kids
who can’t scream for shit
thank you
icedevil
—a fellow n’somniac
lurking in the eerie hollows of online band forums—
for putting into words something i can’t
but i don’t wholly agree with icedevil
they appears to have no time
for pathetic wigger kids and their screamo-rap game
while i
on the other hand
have plenty of time
the film ends
and i grasp for words and
wiggle down wormholes
that expand into rabbit holes
and search for a vocabulary
that doesn’t exist
to explain this enigma
this tormented boy
covered in ink
in a way that is
at first
alarming
unsettling
yet free from inhibitions
meaning
or fucks
for anyone who doesn’t understand
what it means to be a sadboi
i search for words
to defend my obsession with songs
that aren’t puzzles
but rave anthems and
gen-z spirituals
that bleed mcr and fob but
without the depth or intellect
we expect from broken artists
who beg the world to untangle their words
in hopes that they'll someday be fixed
but when you are as numb as gus
whose days are numbered
predestined in a sense
for another world
a different world
there’s no time for
breadcrumbs or
untangling or
anything really
but two minute songs
about xan and
girls and
how hard it is to be sad
songs that are no works of genius
but necessary
and essential
like the revolutionary
and pack ’ack
who could have been a boomer
and wrinkled his nose
at gus and his ink
and his ascent
to sadboi stardom
international acclaim
with molly in baggies
and ragers on buses
but he took up his pen
to tell peep that he loved him
and that
is the saddest part
of it all
to be broken
loved
and
gone