Thoughtsplosions

[thoughtsplosions]

Nux, the War Boy: Am I awaited?

Immortan Joe: You will ride eternal, shiny and chrome. ✨🪩

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To find kindred, first, you have to let yourself be who you are, unapologetically. Emphasis on unapologetically.

I need a place and people to call “home.”

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Despite my personality and temperament, may I be able to find a house that’s inspiring to live in, big enough to shelter good people who share my unusual ideas, with whom I could build this unconventional concept of a home, whom I can call family, so that the night will remain my favorite time of day but now hold the exception that I can finally just close my eyes and sleep.

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Haunting.

I like this word. Probably always have. In all its senses and connotations. I would like things to be haunting. I would like to be haunted…except supernaturally.

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Subject to change but currently accurate

I’ve been operating under these casual life directions for a while (I didn’t consciously lay it on the table then): To experience as many things as I can with the options available to me. To cast aside fear as it bubbles up with its usual attempt to keep me boxed in and push through it if it’s somehow successful. Because, what else is there? Life has no meaning 🫥, but life has no meaning 🦄🌈🫧. You’re the writer, the sculptor, the artist, minus the connotations that your creation has to conform to aesthetics. Shape it as you want it. That is all it has to be and you can ever do.

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If I had a ginger cat: Merida 😁😁😁

But I want more black ones.

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You are always one decision away from a totally different life.

Here we go again. I’ll just make the decisions that calm my anxiety.

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Quote shared via Kindle: "Depression is sadness that has forgotten its true causes–forgotten because remembering may generate overwhelming,

[thoughtsplosions]

As I contemplate this difficult crossroads (really, purgatory), a tiny reassurance comes to me: Should my European dream fail to ever fully and extensively flesh out, I still have a simpler but still beautiful alternative one; it’s to live by, or as close as I can to, the ocean and fully embody the life of my presently sleeping water baby self. I will be sad about Europe (specifically my deeply revered dreamed possibility of Italy), and vastly, infinitely so, but I will be able to smile through and in spite of (literally) the melancholy. As we all should be able to do in each of our lives. There is always hope, isn’t there, if you are just wont to look? My humble little alternative would also be perfect for my tiny goal of raising beach cats *very wide, big toothy grin*. Oh, but until then, I must fight these dangerously deceptive doldrums with every ounce of will and sensibility that I can command of myself.

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717

A reminder to be spontaneous and courageous, but also smart and cautious, with regards new things, cycles, beginnings, and elements brought into one’s life.

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Thinking of you, Mamen. 🥲🥹

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[thoughtsplosions]

I’ve been a temptress too long.

Even getting splattered in shite is not a deterrent.

So how to make the “right” person find me (although there is no right person)…’cos it’s been drizzling frogs.

[thoughtsplosions]

I think I’ve been working with Bilbo Baggins. Every interaction with him strengthens my belief. His demeanor and face screams it and personifies my memory of the character. Who would’ve thought he’d be Scottish. But then again, hobbits are highly likely to be backcountry Scottish.

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I just got brave and said what I said. But I dared to sneak a look at you and I regret my foolishness immediately. Your lips and neck tighten, and you grab your cup of cold coffee with a swiftness. Your body language is nonchalant but your left eye betrays you: the first of a stream of tears appear, a glistening that slowly swells on the edge of your bottom lashes. I could not look at you straight but my chest tightens. You really are so strong, vulnerable right now and yet still so fucking beautiful despite your eyes reddening as you quietly allow the hurt to spill out of you, so quietly but so goddamn beautifully palpably. And I wonder why I could ever say things that chase away the joy that lights up your face when, I realize, unbelievably, you lay your eyes on me. Even through this electronic nowness masking our actual distance, I feel the stab of the verbal knife I twisted in you. I will regret my honesty forever, but you do not deserve anything less than authentic from me, if nothing else. I wish I can hug you, no matter if you would resist, and only rightly so. I cannot say “it” but I feel “it” for you, so much deeper than I have the capacity to express. I wish I could be more than this. In another life, I hope I still meet you and get to keep you. I will probably always feel these pangs of longing. I watch you struggle between silence and the inevitable. You are so goddamn beautiful. I badly need to get out of this uncomfortable conversation.

Imagined scenario. I can only ever pass as a mediocre writer. Hah.

[thoughtsplosions]

Early this morning my mind unfolded a made-up scenario,

Right now, before it fades, I can describe every detail:

Textures, smells, the meeting of gazes.

Still, in the end, it’s a figment of the imagination.

I need a new brain or an experience to get me out of my one.

[thoughtsplosions]

Sumo. But here we are, still entertaining ghost stories.