Unhinged by Design
Spirals, insights, dreams, and feral thoughts live here.
Everything here is a little too much.
And that’s the point.
Trigger warning: This work discusses trauma related to violence, sexual situations, self-harm, and other sensitive topics. Please proceed with care.
Heart Rot
Short stories, poems, love letters, and journal entries. Usually fueled by heartbreak, resentment, and other angsty shit. Expect a lot of sad girl writing, long-form pieces, and lonely reflections.
Not Here to Perform: An Open Letter
This is the story of why I stopped performing and built PurpleVanillaWorld. Whether you meant to land here or not, start with this piece. It lays out what this space is (and isn’t), so you can make an informed decision about whether to stay.
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Will Hike For Salami
I used to think my deep devotion to salami and parmesan bowls was just a quirky personality flaw. Turns out, it was survival instinct. This piece unpacks the time I had a full meltdown over snacks on a family hike—only to find out, years (and diagnoses) later, that my body was screaming for salt, not attention. From wellness gaslighting to “eldest boy” breakdowns, this is a love letter to the wisdom of my body, and a salty middle finger to shame.
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Soft Rages
Essays, reflections, and poetic fragments on the quiet violence of existing in a neurotypical, patriarchal, capitalist world. This is where I write about the systems that drain us, like bureaucracy, misogyny, hustle culture, gatekeeping, and how I try to survive them without fully swallowing my rage.
Mask The Pain Away
This is a soft rage about living in a body with chronic illness, invisible disability, and the absurd shit people say when kale and yoga don’t cure you. Inside: gaslighting (self-inflicted and otherwise), the joy that actually helps, the bath that turned into a neurological reboot, and how capitalism still expects me to smile while short-circuiting. If you’ve ever been told to “just relax” while your body is actively betraying you, this one’s for you.
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The Men Who Hurt Us
This essay explores how internalized misogyny, emotional neglect, and the gendered double standard around anger have shaped my understanding of love and how reclaiming rage became a path to self-worth.
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Habitat Restoration
Some of us don’t need to be fixed—we just need our habitat restored and protected. This essay explores autism, trauma, and the quiet violence of systems that pathologize difference. I’m not broken. I’m just growing in the wrong soil. Through metaphor, personal story, and soft rage, this piece reframes diagnosis as care instruction, not a call to conformity.
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Nightmares
Unedited or barely edited dream journal entries. Mostly recorded right after waking up, while everything’s still weird. These posts document and share my experience with chronic complex PTSD nightmares and dreams. Filled with recurring themes, distorted memories, and stress responses.
The Open House
A haunting dream-turned-story about an apartment hunt that unravels into a surreal nightmare of shifting rooms, old friends returned as ghosts, and body-horror decay. The Open House reveals a psyche racked by invasion, lost privacy, gaslighting, and the quiet terror of public spaces, transforming a dream journal into dark literary fiction with gothic horror and eerie urban edges.
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Mother Deranged
A raw, three-part nightmare journal entry unfolding across one night. A disturbing journey through maternal distortion, psychological torment, and unraveling reality. Across a shifting lakeside dreamscape, my psyche transforms my mother into both predator and rival, trapping me in cycles of grief, violence, and fractured identity. Each return to sleep deepens the dread, as love, safety, and sanity are systematically dismantled.
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Stealing Frenchies
An actual nightmare entry about a haunting descent into emotional betrayal, looping disconnection, and relational gaslighting. As past and present collide at a chaotic house party, the dream unravels into paranoia, helplessness, and explosive rage. Fracturing the lines between love, shame, and violence beyond recognition.
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Purple Vanilla World 