d e v o n
Not today Justin
No title available
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Love Begins
will byers stan first human second
Janaina Medeiros
Stranger Things
dirt enthusiast
Kaledo Art
No title available
NASA
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
todays bird
Kiana Khansmith
Product Placement
$LAYYYTER
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
almost home
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
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seen from Italy
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seen from Belarus
seen from United Kingdom
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@eirollam
Some excerpts from my journal that I enjoy
“I’m more resilient than I could’ve imagined.”
“I guess all I mean is I’m no longer repulsed by love songs.”
“I want to be loved, but I’m willing to wait. I’ll fall even harder in love with the world and my life while I wait.”
“As long as I’ve got myself, I’ll be ok.”
“Don’t forget, but forgive. For yourself.”
“I have so much love to give.”
“Life will be good.”
“Life is good.”
“Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: the Blessed Sacrament ... There you will find romance, glory, honour, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves upon earth.”
— Tolkien
Somedays life is just so lovely. You are well rested, your coffee is awesome, you don’t have any deadlines and obligations, the weather is perfect and the sunset is breathtaking. Being alive is such a blessing.
Does it make me weak if I want someone to just hold me and tell me they love me? Does it make me any less of a strong woman?
M. S.
“Watch the sunrise at least once a year, put a lot of marshmallows in your hot chocolate, lie on your back and look at the stars, never buy a coffee table you can’t put your feet on, never pass up a chance to jump on a trampoline, don’t overlook life’s small joys while searching for the big ones.”
— H. Jackson Brown, Jr.
Time to buck up and move on.
The pain will fade once I learn to stop picking at the wounds.
M. S.
Put your hand over your heart. Feel it beat. You’re alive. There is blood coursing through your veins, and you are alive. After everything that’s happened, everything you’ve endured, your heart hasn’t given up on you. It’s gonna be ok.
Sometimes, when I’m lonely, I like to imagine my life as a movie. I see myself as a kid, running through my room. I see myself grow up. Or I see myself in my car. I see a montage of everytime I’ve laughed, and screamed out my window, and sung at the top of my lungs. I also see every time I’ve cried. All the times I’ve screamed at the sky, or pulled over just to calm myself down, or just drove in stoic silence. And I see my friends. My family. My dogs. The times I was too tired to function. Listening to Celia Cruz on I95. The times I tried to eat with both hands while driving.
My childhood friends are ghosts to me. They died a long time ago. Or maybe they never really existed. Maybe these people I’ve built up in my head are just the sum of the memories I’ve had. It’s my best friend’s mom’s classroom. It’s the hot pink loft and the gym bar. It’s Pearl the car. It’s Eggo waffles and iCarly on a small screen. It’s the ghost house. It’s dressing up for theatre camp. It’s pickles and cheese and sushi and popcorn. It’s the past. These friends are symbolic of the past. They are ghosts. I say their names out loud. How foreign they sound to me. They are ghosts from the past. I don’t miss them. I miss my childhood, of which they symbolize.
My room used to be pink.
Now it’s gray.
But his eyes are blue.
My childhood was pink and blue. Like cotton candy. My favorite songs burst red and magenta when they played. I wore sequins and neon. My laughs were yellow. Bright yellow. I was loved and brash and weird. I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t know how to put on makeup and I didn’t know how to talk to boys but I knew how to love and I knew how to cry and I knew how to run and scream and laugh and live. I didn’t hide behind a wall. I didn’t care what people thought. I was obnoxious because I wanted to be and I loved myself.
I have nostalgia for the pinks and blues and reds and neons of my past. For my yellow laughs. For my pink room.
My room is gray now.
My room is gray.
But his eyes are blue.
M. S.
“They look at each other like they were almost lovers, like they should have kissed and made love and laughed in bed together, but they chose to stay friends instead. They look at each other with what ifs and could haves and hearts full of regrets.”
— Nikita Gill
I guess the more I am hurt, the sweeter it’ll be when I finally find it.
If ever.
M. S.
Optimism is my kryptonite.
M. S.
I’ve been hurt time and time again, yet I still love and trust people with my whole heart and soul. I’m hopelessly optimistic. I’m painfully naïve.
some poetic clips from my journal
“Meeting someone at the wrong time is the saddest thing I have ever come to comprehend. There is this unfathomable pain rooted deep in knowing that you have to let go to continue growth separately when in your heart, you just know- you know that since the first day you were both put on this planet, you must have been two seeds planted right next to each other, the crossing of roots inevitable because what else could explain how you see the world almost identically? What else could explain how when it rains on the other, you feel it too? And it is for these exact reasons I know that us meeting was not a coincidence; we will meet again someday when we have bloomed a little stronger in order to maximise eachother’s growth.”
— Farewell for now, my flower. (via velcroheartstrings)
Why am I so awkward.
I crave affection. I want to be loved so deeply, but my soul pulls away whenever anyone gets close enough to truly see me.
Why am I so awkward.
M. S.
I'm tired of waiting.
M. S.
