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@importantphantomstudent
sometimes i feel more like a house than a person with the way i decorate my body and my face to hide damaged walls and empty spaces; my heart is more like a door with changed locks because i've made multiple keys for people who walked all over me with filthy shoes, people who said they could live here, but they were just passing through. i hope my eyes are not windows, because i fear what the world might see—all of my flaws and insecurities on display like a coffee table or some shoddy love seat. sometimes i swear i left the oven on and forgot because my mind feels like a smoke detector with the way my apprehension never calms. i smell smoke, but i can't see it; i'm told things are never as bad as i make them, but every wildfire starts with a spark and it's easy to burn when you're a house made of straw.
- "house made of straw"
“You still crave lemonade, but the taste doesn’t satisfy you as much as it used to. You still crave summer, but sometimes you mean summer, five years ago.”
— Alida Nugent
—Beau Taplin, Moon Phases
actually, growing up is feeling like i turned sixteen two days ago. i’ve been eighteen for years. fifteen year olds seem so young. wasn’t i fifteen just a few weeks ago? all my friends and i are still twelve. i’m closer to thirty than to being a baby. i never got to be a kid. i never grew past eight. i can’t talk to my mom. i want to sit in her lap forever. i want to decide everything for myself. i need someone to tell me exactly what to do. the week is going by so slow. an entire year has passed.
find myself listening to music i loved years ago and i realize i still am her
being in your early twenties is like [grocery shopping alone] [having instant noodles for dinner] [remembering random details about that one friend you haven't spoken to in five years] [feeling overwhelming guilt for every purchase that isn't strictly "necessary"] [having midday naps] [finding out through facebook that the girl who was mean to you in high school has a husband and a baby] [falling a little in love with every stranger on public transport] [pretending you're not afraid of being alone] [wondering when you'll feel like a fully realized person] [listening to bands you liked in middle school] [blinking and it's suddenly december] [failing to imagine yourself ten years from now] [feeling like you're running out of time]
ig: quintonmulvey
i want to hold him. i want to be the big spoon, pressing delicate kisses onto his neck while he's nuzzled against me. i want to stroke his head while he's passed out against my chest, his warm breath lulling me to sleep while his arm is thrown over my stomach. i want to scratch his head while he lays on top of me, chest to chest, because i've finally convinced him he won't crush me. i just want to be with him, keeping him warm. letting my love know he's safe. he's so soft, he's so sweet, he's everything i've ever wanted or needed. i want to protect him. i love him.
your future self loves you. they will look through old photos of you with affection, not disgust, nor embarrassment. they wish they could tell you stories of your future, of how much you’ll change, of the people you’ll meet, of how you’ll eventually learn to accept yourself, then love yourself. they will read your diary entries and poems and favourite lyrics, heart aching, tears in their eyes. if only you knew...
your future self loves you. if only they could show you. they are living proof. you’ll turn out okay after all. they wish they were there to console you, dance with you, and make you write it a hundred times: “I AM LOVED”. they will listen to playlists you made, just to experience you again. they will write you a letter - of forgiveness, longing, reassurance. you will never read it. but you will know.
Odysseus Elytis, from Clepsydras of the Unknown, tr. by Jeffrey Carson and Nikos Sarris
The Craft (1996) dir. Andrew Fleming
Cruel Intentions (1999) Dir. Roger Kumble
Drew Barrymore in Bad Girls (Jonathan Kaplan - 1994)
Baby Driver (2017)
Marilyn Monroe at the Crystal Star award ceremony, 1959.