I. it's the summer of pot smoke and porch days and i am staring at my toothpaste-splattered reflection in the bathroom mirror: heavy 1PM eyes, shitty skin, lazy ring of hickeys just above my collarbone. through the wall, i listen to my housemate run a poem with my name now crammed between every syllable. my hair is still tangled from someone else's fingers. i feel exactly as disgusted as the tiles sticking to my feet, the mold colony overhead, the "WANTED" poster left by the last tenants: a pen-and-ink centipede with a speech bubble containing my new favorite word: "I'M DISGUSTING. IF YOU SEE ME, PLEASE KILL ME."

II. I've closed my eyes so the boy in my bed can't see how dry they are. the room is dark, except for the light sneaking in where the wall meets ceiling. this place is more half-assed diorama than apartment and i have the emotional capacity of clay. i have decided that pretending to cry might make me seem less heartless. i am hoping that with a magic combination of words, he will simply vanish from my bed, my apartment, the past six months of my life, that i will wake up with clean sheets and a clear conscience instead of this feeling bubbling through my throat that is not sadness or guilty, really, but a sense that everything wrong in the world is all my fault.

III. my body is molding from the inside, mushrooms blossoming in the soft parts of my skull. new year's eve again and i am going to be good this time. i am going to be good. but, after my assault: the so-called "psychotically depressed" person who tries to kill herself doesn't do so out of a quote 'hopelessness' or any abstract conviction that life's assets and debits do not square. and surely not because death seems suddenly appealing. the person in whom it's invisible agony reaches a certain unendurable level will kill herself the same way a trapped person will eventually jump from the window of a burning high-rise. make no mistake about people who leap from burning windows and can't sleep at night. their terror of falling from a great height is still just as great as it would be for you or me standing speculatively at the same window just checking out the view. i.e the fear of falling remains a constant, and outweighs the possibility of release. the variable here is the other terror, the fire's flames: when the flames get close enough, people mutter selfishness as a hope of falling to death. this becomes slightly less terrible of two terrors. and yet, nobody down on the sidewalk, looking up and yelling "DON'T!" and "HANG ON!", can understand the jump. not really, you'd have to have been personally trapped and felt flames to really understand a terror way beyond falling. 

IIII. i had no interests. i had no interest in anything. i had no idea how i was going to escape. at least the other had some taste for life. they seemed to understand something that i didn't understand. maybe i was lacking, it was possible. i often felt inferior. i just wanted to get away from them. but there was no place to go. suicide? jesus christ, just more work to feel like I've been sleeping for five years. i'm not a good person, ask anyone who loves me. 

IIIII. i never write, i never call & i never think of anyone at all. and when i had finally rotted away on a sunday, my parents didn't answer. when i called for help, they were in church in their nice clothes praying to god about more important things.

ways in which i am a horrible person, with examples.

Lovette, born in 2004 in Frankfurt, Germany, is an old soul and musical prodigy. Trilingual and skilled in over twenty instruments, she has been solo-producing her own music since she was eight.

She grew up playing string instruments in orchestra before branching into personal projects. In college, her teacher Julie Gosswiller introduced her to programs like Audacity and other sampling tools. But it wasn’t until she had to learn Logic for a neuroscience class (while secretly planning to end her life the following April) that she started taking music production seriously. During that time, she wrote goodbye letters in the forms of songs to her friends and family, and music became the place she poured all of herself into. This account has since then been a documentation of growth, music, and poetry.

In 2023, her breakout songs "Him or Her", "Growing Pains", and "How to Make Me Fall in Love With You" took off online. They were recorded during a two-week binge where she barely left her room, and afterwards she dropped out of college and quit her job. For years, she kept her music uncredited, partly by choice, partly because of being stalked online, before finally returning under the small name Lovette.

Since then, she’s tried to live as a “normal” person, which hasn’t exactly gone smoothly, but it’s been entertaining. Lovette has racked up over 100,000 plays on SoundCloud, had several audios go viral on TikTok, and even taken over the Russian platform VK more than once. Compared to big names, those numbers might seem small, but to her, they mean everything. She loves and cherishes her fanbase deeply.

ways in which i am a horrible person, with examples.

lovette