I miss the peak 2011 community that was tumblr.
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Today's Document
𩵠avery cochrane š©µ
sheepfilms

shark vs the universe

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we're not kids anymore.

Janaina Medeiros

romaā
Claire Keane
d e v o n

Kaledo Art
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Product Placement
Cosimo Galluzzi
NASA
Not today Justin
I'd rather be in outer space šø
DEAR READER
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seen from Malaysia

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seen from Malaysia
seen from Venezuela
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@notsospiffywhat
I miss the peak 2011 community that was tumblr.
at this point I'm scared to tell anyone I know IRL that I did not stan Shane and Ilya.
sometimes the world feels too heavy
heavier still, the weight in my chest
the sorrow, the regret, the wants, the wishes.
the only balm, sunshine
the rays flitting through the trees between a canopy
the soft rustle of the wind wading through the leaves
too difficult still to approach in person
and so sunshine embodied must do
through photographs, memories
held in the background of you.
āForest Morningā ~ By Anskar Lenzen
I step into the ocean, the sea breeze sending the comfort of brine into my senses. The waves leap against me, a cool that is welcoming in the scorching heat of the summer sun.
I give myself over to it, glad to have my companion back, its salt and softness enveloping me in nostalgia. the gentle sounds of the waves, the distant laughter of children and the circling squawks of seagulls my companions.
the depth below me deepens, and I have no idea what it holds, but I am not afraid of it. I know the tides will bring me home.
That it what it feels like to know and love you. Like nostalgia, warmth, comfort and home.
To be held by you is to be protected, as the sea protects the sand underneath it. to be supported by you is to know that I won't sink. I don't know what lies ahead of us, but I know that the tides that are your gaze looking into my eyes, will always bring me back to safe harbour.
I sit.
Alone.
And yet -
all those I carry sit beside me.
I cannot shake them.
Their love, their needs, their
expectations.
But how I try.
Movement, madness, making its way insidiously inside. At what point do we release all that we hold into the ether?
how many minds do I live in? in whose thoughts am I held in regard? in whose bed do I linger as a passing whisper? in whose eyes do I still remain the encounter left unfinished.
a tight coil furled up somewhere in my ribcage
undone by your embrace.
my chest rising and falling in sync with yours, in opposition.
in a rhythm not my own, but moving me.
control my choices, control my movement
leave me free to be.
reminiscing about who one was is in itself sometimes, a simple joy
Today I'm thinking about the sea and C's. The weather is nice in Toronto, and I'm planning on going to the park. Took a cool shower before I left the flat, and the coolness reminded me of the countless times after a rigorous swim practice in high school that I'd take a cold shower, the cold waters of the pool hot against my skin because of sprints and laps.
I'm reminded of one day in my high school in Hong Kong, when my entire class went on a hike that ended with a day at the beach. Hiking and beaches are a staple part of living in Hong Kong, and for everyone, it was an exciting day- but for me, it was a day that caused so much anxiety.
Anxiety because I was fat. And not fat the way I am now. no, I was 100lb (almost exactly 100lb) lighter in high school than I am now. I was in the swim team, athletics team, I played basketball regularly and volleyball whenever I could. I did sports. For a period of time, I would wake up at 5:30am and go for runs before school because I was convinced it was the right thing to do. Why? Because I was a perfectionist, and every term when my report card would be sent home, I'd get all A's, in every subject, except one. Without fail I would get a C in PE. A C for effort, and a comment about how I needed to improve my cardiovascular fitness.
It was always funny to me that I'd get that C. The girl who woke up at 5:30 to go running. Who did before school swim training at 7am 2 times a week, and after school swim training 2 times a week. Who played basketball for every upper school PE lesson, and badminton, and volleyball. It was funny because I understood why I was getting that C. It was because despite it all. I was fat. In cross country, it may have taken me 6-8 minutes to swim 20 laps of our school pool, but it also took me 20 minutes to run 2.8km.
No matter how much I tried, that C would come back and haunt me every single semester. Even when I stopped eating carbs, that C would haunt me.
And that's why when our PE class went hiking and to the beach, I didn't take my swim trunks. Because while everyone else was excited to strip off their sweaty PE uniforms and go swimming after the hike, I wanted to sit in the heat with all my clothes on, and be out of the way of my PE teachers who would, no matter what I did, give me a C either way. this is a person who was literally on the swim team. who was known for being good at swimming. refusing to swim with her much thinner school friends and classmates. Who loved the beach and the sea. all because of that C.
When I was asked why I wasn't swimming, I said I had my period. My teacher told me that she had spare tampons and I could either wear one and get in the ocean, or take a C in the class. I wanted to laugh at that. I'd get a C either way, so why did it matter?
It also reminded me of what being fat in East Asian culture is like. At 82kg, and 5'9, I was definitely large. I had broad shoulders, and strong thighs, and a tummy with rolls. But looking back now, I see a healthy, hearty body, holding a miserable girl who just couldn't understand why she wasn't getting that A when she tried so hard. Was it really because my cardiovascular fitness was weak? or was it because everyone else was petite compared to me. How was it that the skinny girls in my class who could run 2.8km in 14 minutes but took 20 minutes to swim 20 laps were considered "fit and strong", but I wasn't? Why was it that I dreaded going on school trips because I knew in our dorm rooms, other students would see me change, and see my rolls and my brown girl body hair, and instead of being excited about visiting Thailand for the first time, I spent the morning hiding so that I wouldn't have to do a monkey bar obstacle course knowing that I didn't have the upper body strength to get me across.
Looking back I know now that I was fit, and strong, and great at sports, and that I did put so much effort in. And now, 10 years after graduating high school, it doesn't matter at all that I didn't get straight A's for effort in my report cards. But somewhere, the impact of those C's still bothers me.
holding myself accountable on here
i am grateful that i have you today. and if i get to see you today, then i am grateful to have seen you.
if i don't get to see you today, i am grateful for the future where i will get to see you.
i love you.
If I ever wrote my life story,
it would start with your name,
it would end with your name.
http://instagram.com/3pointellipses
Tonight I write because I am restless. I think of you. I want to speak of you. Yet still, I want to hold you close and share my view of you with no one. I want to smile about you, gush about you, grin with you, ramble incoherently in your presence and wrap you around me. I am as far in as I am happy to be, and I am happy to be where we are. Knowing you is enough for me. Anything more, is more than I could hope for.
In the hours between our conversations, I am reminded of you. your voice, your smile, your bemusement at my shenanigans. I am hopeful in their existence.
Thereās a soft breeze, and it rifles through the window, wafting the scent of jasmine and a distant clamour of childrenās voices in the nearby school grounds. A cat slumbers fitfully, ears occasionally twitching, a steady rise and fall of grey fur, dreaming of birds and trees abound. The first day of many when the wind soothes rather than bites, caressing faces like a familiar friend, seen after a long winter. Closer to home is the drip of a tap, left a little too loose, the clanking of pots, readying for the scents of sizzling meat. There is an aura of hope in the air, as if a reminder that time does pass, that paths do clear, and muddy steps make way for spring flowers.Ā
but am I loved?