thank you 🙏🏽
content warnings: discussion of a head-on car crash and reference to potential death as a result, negative self talk, discussion of trauma and trauma-responses.
controls: click or tap on the left or right side of the booklet to turn pages backwards or forwards
this is a zine about not knowing how to differentiate between wanting something & being able to tolerate it, and generally about trying to remember how to want things after a long time of needing or choosing to ignore wants/trying to remember how to know when i don't want something after a long time of needing or choosing to ignore not wanting something.
click here to see alt text for the zine
The title page shows a somewhat abstract floral background and reads, "Found Wanting."
The first page shows a botanical background and reads, "I feel sure that there must have been a point where I knew how to want things. I try and fail to pinpoint when exactly I stopped being able to tell the different between wanting a thing and being able to tolerate it."
The second page shows a yellow and red floral background and reads, "I grit my teeth and I bear it. I grit my teeth when I'm sleeping. I wake back up as I'm starting to drift off and my brow is furrowed, my jaw clenched tight. I wonder what would happen if I let go of some of the tension for a minute. If I didn't press down so hard on the wanting part of myself. Would I sleep slack-jawed and smooth-faced?"
The third page shows a background of stars and reads, "I feel like I need so much more than everyone else. I feel like a child who wants and wants and wants. I feel pathetic and sick at the sight of myself reaching out with grubby hands. In moments of clarity, I can't believe I'd say something so unfair and cruel about a child, even if the child is me."
The fourth page shows an abstract blue and purple background and reads, "I press down on the wanting part of myself until the container breaks and something desperate and cloying slips out through the cracks before I can patch them back up. Eventually, that part presses itself down. The container seals itself up. What if, eventually, the want stops coming at all? What if someday I'm standing at the spigot, turning the tap one way and then the other, waiting for something to gurgle up through the pipes, and I am finally willing to listen, and I am finally ready to want, and nothing will come out? If there's nothing I can do to coax it? If the drain isn't just plugged, but there is simply nothing on the other end anymore? What if the time comes and it turns out I'm nothing but an empty reservoir?"
The fifth page shows an abstract black and yellow background and reads, "I used to laugh about how quickly I could acclimate. I used to preen when I was praised for making it through something hard. Making the best of every situation. Not taking a break between tragedies. Acquiescing, acquiescing, acquiescing."
The sixth page is an abstract red and white background with yellow flowers, and reads, "When I was 16, sitting in the passenger seat of a car that was drifting into the opposite lane on a rain-slick road, I felt something that I recognized. Another car was coming towards us and I felt a certainty that I couldn't do anything about my situation. A sort of acceptance and acknowledgement that it wasn't even worth trying to fight against what was coming to me. I felt resignation. Nothing new."
The back cover is the same as the title page, but slightly lighter: a somewhat abstract floral background that reads, "Found Wanting."