#03.05.15

[dreamings-free]

not instagram throwing this 2015 flashback at me today 10 years to the day of louis being seen with that book…. 👀

sponsored post on instagram today 3/5/25 // Louis at LAX holding a copy of The Psychopath Test 3/5/15

[zelismisimm]

bir kadını 27 gün için 27 gül de mutlu etmiyorsa, o kadın tekrar mutlu olma olayını rafa kaldırmış demektir.

[wordslikemoths]

more.

I grow sleepy listening to her talk, but will myself to stay awake and listen. Anyway, it’s not that I don’t want to listen–it’s that it’s two am and a dull, slow-burning sadness makes me perpetually tired, even though I spent all day staring at a computer screen and pretending to read.

It’s warmer than usual tonight, but I still wrap myself in my blanket and tuck myself in as best as I can. I can’t remember the last time I was this comfortable sleeping on my own, can’t remember not squirming and reaching for something (read: someone) who wasn’t there. I listen to her talk, her words coming out fast and sharp against the darkness. My eyelids droop with the weight of the past week, the past month, the past few times I wanted something I couldn’t get, not because I wasn’t good enough, but because it just wasn’t there.

I don’t write like I used to. I don’t go about the day like I used to. I don’t remember what it was like before and I don’t know what it’s going to be like after. I look at the sky and watch the clouds glide across the big ocean blue, and I remember how, upon my first visit to the midwest, I really loved how thick and full the clouds were, how the air hung heavy with humidity, but how I cut through it like I belonged, like I had always done it. I thought, maybe, I could belong here. I thought, probably, I would survive here.

I wasn’t wrong. In a sense, I belong; in a sense, I have survived. But I forgot about the part where I would change. I forgot that there was something I wanted to preserve, and I can’t figure out if that something is still intact or if, like the rest of me, it’s changed too.

“From your point of view,” she asks, and I cringe because I’ve never wanted to be an example, not in this way. I’ve never wanted to be the girl that people ask about rejection stuff, because all my life I’ve believed that if I wanted something bad enough and if I worked hard enough, I would get it. There was no way I wouldn’t get it. “Am I being unfair?”

I tell her no, tell her I would have rather been rejected outrightly, been given a firm and absolute no that broke me rather than continue to think I had a chance, or could make a chance because I wanted it badly enough and worked for it enough. “You have to make a clean cut,” I say, and run my hands through my hair. “You have to make it clear: this is not what you want.”

She hums in thought, an almost snore that encourages me to close my eyes. I run my hands through my hair one more time, my fingers catching on knots that I unravel, like moths upon old scarves. I get it now. I get it now.

[borntobakirkoy]

terli bahar

zaten ne bahar havası açtı ufkumuzu ne de yasemin kokan sokaklarda koşturan terli çocuklar iyi olacak bir daha boşver evdeki hesap her zaman çarşıya uymaz evin derli toplu kafan huzurlu kalsın

ne Fenerbahçeden güldü yüzümüz ne de olacağına inandığım hatta inanmayı eyleme dökerek uyguladığım yaptığım uğraştığım hayallerimden biri diğer birkaçını elinin tersiyle itti daha ona elimi uzatma şansı tanımadan

[britishhusbands]

EYELASHES

[dailydoseofziam]

Nighty night

[britishhusbands]

LOUIS AT LAX | 03/05

[britishhusbands]

03/05