my decade old diary

2011-2020

[mischon]

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“[T]o wish to forget how much you loved someone—and then, to actually forget—can feel, at times, like the slaughter of a beautiful bird who chose, by nothing short of grace, to make a habitat of your heart.”

— Maggie Nelson, from Bluets (Wave Books, 2009)

[unfilmed]

“You’ve never mattered all that much to me”

[sensors]

Exactly today, 3 years ago, I arrived in the newest chapter of my life. Man, oh man, do the years get faster and faster. Among all this death, depression and anger, I think a little sliver of tranquility exists. I like to think I’ve made peace with my past. It’s going to be a little while longer before I do the same with my present.

[nubbsgalore]

vieitnamese farmers harvest water chestnuts in fields of blowing waves of grass (x)

[thoughtkick]

“May I never lose that terror that keeps me brave.”

— Audre Lorde, The Black Unicorn: Poems; “Solstice”

[sensors]

You are, at once, the shortest and longest poem I’ve ever read. I truly cried myself empty today. When cheeks hurt, and eyes droop, and breath shallows, and hands shake, is when it’s easy to feel that nothing matters anymore. I’m so glad to have had you holding my fragile carcass so tenderly tonight. I know you didn’t want to leave me alone. Being alone, though, isn’t the punch. I’ve never felt stuck as much as I do now. Away from the semblance of the comfort I used to know, but can’t choose to go back. Can’t choose to move myself away either, just, waiting, sitting at the terminal between lives. Transitioning indefinitely. Yet, seconds wait for no one.

[cillianmurphy]

Irrfan Khan (January 7 1967 - April 29 2020) in Life of Pi (2012)

[lettherebemusicblog]

Visit Original Link

I don’t wanna stay at your party I don’t wanna talk with your friends I don’t wanna vote for your president I just wanna be your tugboat captain…

[theepitomeofquiet]

[cheruib]

[sensors]

how to stop living in the past:

you can never go back. why would you want to, anyway?

all you have is your chance at now. in another 3 years you will be obsessed with today.

nothing will comfort you. that is okay. things change, after all.

your home was never a mouldy house, a silly bunk bed, an overachieving school, or a city to begin with. once, you had a home in other people, in family.

but homes are not permanent. they do not have to be.

though you don’t feel like anything is home for you right now, maybe you will find home for yourself soon.

or, maybe we were never meant to anchor ourselves anywhere. why do you carry such heaviness?

you are free to go wherever. yet, your loss keeps you down.

isn’t your body good enough? despite all its flaws, you still walk with two legs. you eat and ground yourself in food. you feel the warmth of a shower, of your love’s arms. isn’t this all you need?

cultivate your own shelter. you do not deserve anything else.

[robert-hadley]

The ex-apartment of Luca Guadagnino, in the town of Crema, Northern Italy.

[sensors]

monday the 13th of april in the year 2020

i’ve made a mistake i don’t know where. i wish to know how to get to the end, but words fail me, and time moves the world, and i do not. i fill my life with vague hopelessness in television and games and sleep because i fear that the most of who i could be is not good enough. not allowing feeling because i fear that my feelings are not what i hope for them to be. i am a paradox between who enjoys existence, and who thinks they should. again, floating. that’s a word i like... floating. it suggests: uncertainty in the future, like improv theatre unfolding before your eyes. aimlessness. my mother taught me that word. she loves me more than the universe - she said so herself. i could cry to my death. for ages i looked inward to battle so hard to create something of worth. it was worth less than i thought. i never permitted honesty. i never felt safe. i still don’t, but i could understand if you were to believe that safety is mainly faith. safety is relativity and probability, and if i am a cog in the machine, i better take on the role more seriously. it’s just so.. damn............ difficult.

[juderagnarsson]

““I’m lonely,” he says aloud, and the silence of the apartment absorbs the words like blood soaking into cotton. He is so lonely that he sometimes feels it physically, a sodden clump of dirty laundry pressing against his chest. He cannot unlearn the feeling.”

— A Little Life, Hanya Yanagihara

[neckkiss]

St. Elmo’s Fire (1985)

[sensors]

oranges bloom too. glass is metal. time means nothing. music means flying. i could shrink. i could disappear. but i haven’t yet. friend is calling.