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chicken alfredo

Hannah Nalley

Tonight, we had chicken alfredo for dinner. I'm not usually a fan of the chicken dishes we cook at home for one particular reason: the size of the breasts.


Every time I cut into these gigantic, juicy hunks of meat, my stomach keels and I can't eat more than a bite or two. It doesn't taste right; not like the chicken breasts I remember, which were half the size. I know that this is a result of hormones used to raise bigger chickens to feed the masses, and personally, I don't find the artificial genetic mutations very appetizing.


So instead, I opted for the pasta, not really much better when I thought about all the fortified gluten and other chemical processing shit that is sure to inflame my system. I picked around at my plate... but I wasn't hungry for anything in front of me.


Sometimes I get like this, ya know? Existential crisis and all. Tired of living in a box and paying random people to bring me food made or grown by other random people. It all feels so depressing. I'm tired of using substances, too–– smoking weed and drinking alcohol to manufacture better feelings. I'm tired of no amount of money ever being enough, I'm tired of swimming in a sea of people who all want the same thing and knowing most of us will never get it. Basically, I'm tired of living in LA.


I just don't have the same values anymore–– the desire to be praised for my hotness and go to sceney restaurants–– because I'm not looking for a "big break" anymore. Everything I want to make, I can produce myself: music, music videos, the secret project I cannot name yet (hehe), and so on. I can take a plane wherever I want and I can connect with anyone, anywhere in the world, in a single instant.


I want to get out of California, as my fellow Missouri girl, Chappell Roan, put it. I just played that song before I wrote this to really bask in my feelings of entrapment and honestly, the mere prospect of freedom in the rural world lightens my heart. It's not that I don't love LA and have gratitude for all the things I have here: friends, opportunities, a band, and everything else, but I just want to be able to go outside and breathe fresh air. I want to be able to think. I want to feel like I am enough.


I have so many mixed feelings about these blogs–– how long I want to do them, how much I want to share, and if any of this bullshit will come back to bite me when I am famous, but fuck it. This practice is helping me get in touch with my true self and with each passing day, I'm embracing more of who I am.


I've been writing a lot longer than I have been publicly sharing; I have about fifteen other moleskins filled with my experiences from the past seven years, and admittedly, those accounts tended to be more passionate before life kicked the shit out of me, and all of them said with unwavering faith the thing I have always known to be true, and now that I'm pulling myself back up, I will say it with my entire chest once again: I will be famous and I deserve to be. I haven't given up and I never will. I just have to keep making it happen.


This was all over the place, as thoughts often are, but it felt damn good. Let's keep growing with each passing day.


Ttyt,

Hannah


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Representation

Management

Genetic Artist Management

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Chad Milam

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Hannah Nalley Holdings

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