#moving north

[pityroad]

— there will always be your heart, Yrsa Daley-Ward, from 'bone'

[text ID: Do not go too far for peace and quiet / do not run too far / because the country can be as loud as the city / too noisy in its stillness / and anyway, / there will always be your breath / which, hard as you try / you can't do without / you can't run away from. / There will always be your heart / beating / stronger and louder / the harder, the further / you run.]

[existentialcrisistime]

the very specific ritual of having to leave most of your hand-me-down and collected trinkets/crockery/blankets/books/etc behind when you move away from a place, and so searching the charity/thrift shops near your new home for replacements that too were left behind or abandoned for one reason or another

the connection between you and the old hand-knitted blanket or mismatched cup and saucer that had been abandoned (whether intentionally or unavoidably) by its old owner, until you yourself, abandoned and displaced and mourning the loss of your old comforts, pick it up and give it a new home. thrift shopping as a form of healing! that's what it's all about!

[delusioninabox]

Daily #2,035! I am over my conflicted feelings. 

[dude-im-actually-a-cat]

I'm moving to New York state, nowhere fun, just New York

[mark-the-jellyfish]

Going north

So, we're going to Canada for the summer, I'm excited but worried, I'm scared for Simon, it's not a very long drive and we should reach our house by tomorrow morning but I'm still kinda worried...

[pityroad]

up home by Yrsa Daley-Ward, from 'bone'

Stuff that you remind me of. Home. Wherever that is. I'm confused

and in the same way that my grandma (who hasn't seen my brother or me for two years because he has been lost somewhere between despair and north Manchester and I've been away in Africa)

in the same way that she just smiles and puts on the kettle I'm beginning to feel a lot like I'll wait for you against my better judgement.

She gives us macaroni and brown stew chicken in a Tupperware box (which she asks him to return but everyone knows he won't). Core loneliness is a terrible thing. I suppose we all have each other, but only up to a certain point. I suppose we all die stubbornly and separately, in the end.

Someone reads Psalms 139 and, in the verse that mentions how we are fearfully and wonderfully made, I'm beginning to see the light and I trace the outlines of your tattoos on my arm.

My brother takes all of the food because he has mouths to feed. Nobody knows how many. Nobody has asked or kept count and he doesn't say much. Anyway, I will soon be en route to London. Can't have food and memories weighing me down, however delicious.

Some things you just have to leave up North, like short a's, Morrisons, Ovaltine, pictures of your late parents in graduation caps and gowns

carot juice the way West Indian people make it with the nutmeg and condensed milk and the look on your grandparents' faces, always, when you say,

'Oh well, must get going. Don't want to miss my train.' I'm beginning to miss you terribly, by the way. It's a stunning day up here despite the rain.

[pityroad]

— from On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, Ocean Vuong

[dude-im-actually-a-cat]

I'm stoned rn, pretty sure my tongue's a lime or like a lemon, guys 🍋?