Dear Maple, and Fern

For the little girl who wrote to be heard, and the adult who is trying to find her voice.

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Welcome

A glimpse into the life of someone figuring it out.

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Because maybe it still exists

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I have long sought the control that resides in knowledge

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My Father's Daughter

[lucidloving]

@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

[theunquotables]

“Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic? Well, think about it. Maybe you’re playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.”

— John Steinbeck, East of Eden

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[intezaarlily]

home as a haunting

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"ROUTINE SHE GOT FROM HER FATHER"

There was a time - when you would walk into a room and I wouldn't sense you were there.

Then, there was a time where my heart jumped with every door opened.

Next, came the time that I couldn't help but glow, because every time you came through the door your eyes didn't stop searching into they found a place to rest in mine.

After, I still found myself looking up with each open door - even though I knew you were 1000 miles away - my heart still held out hope.

Now, I don't look up when someone comes through the door. Not because I know it won't be you, but because I've forgotten to hope it will be.

They say you find relief then, that you've let go once you stop searching.

The realisation that i've forgotten how to look for you is worse than knowing you won't be there.

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