@twothirtytwoam - Tumblr Blog

Tove Ditlevsen, from a poem featured in There Lives a Young Girl in Me Who Will Not Die: Selected Poems

Sunday, 29 March 2026; 1645hrs

how could i do this right, if im such a flight risk ?

i wanted to be something you couldn't put down but hey, it's wearing me out this time. i wanted to stay, i tried, but you'll never leave her.

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learning how to gently let you go is me learning how to quietly care for myself bc i am worth so much more than than u were ever ready to accept.

leaving you in the arms of her warmth is something that broke me but it will also be the last time i cry over you.

goodnight, goodlove .

#text

Sunday, 11 Jan 2026; 1310hrs

“am i happy?"

what do you mean? like, am i happy by myself ?

lately, ive been trying to ask myself this - and im trying to come up with an adequate answer that im content with -

“sure i’m happy. i go to sleep most nights with the same terror that somehow i might not be enough or im loosing smtng; but at some point i sleep, and i sleep soundly.

"i’m good, you know.”

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and i guess that’s exactly it - i’m good, but i don’t know how to tell you if i’m happy. and i can’t say i’m sad. sometimes, i feel as if i’m cruising - the gateway drug of emotion before hitting rock bottom. but i’m not that either. there’re goals i’m chasing, still things i want - want to do, want to be, want to achieve - you know.

but sometimes how i feel is - i’m running barefoot through a rainforest in the peak of monsoon season. it’s storming every hour and everything’s shrouded in this fog and i can’t see anything. it’s too cold and it’s too humid all at the same time. everything is unpleasant, there’re sores on my feet. i’ve been at this for days and i still don’t know if i’m running away from something, or towards something else, i don’t know what either thing is, and i don’t even know how i got here in the first place.

and i guess this is how i feel most times on my own. it’s not happy and it’s not not-happy. its everything else in between - and also none of those things. i think ive come to terms that i am OK with this - that this is what reaching flow state feels like.

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two days ago i spoke to A and realised that in the past 4 years, ive been placed in exactly the same position ive always hated , yet each by two completely different r/ships. i tend to give too much too easily and they always somehow slip out of reach.

i spent the last few weeks of 2025 feeling guilty for wanting things to work out with people who make me feel a little less than. and i used to think breaking up was just one decision. one finite moment of choosing to walk away. but break-ups happen over a hundred small moments. they happen when u cry alone in the middle of a grocery aisle, in the bathroom; when u feel small in their presence. they happen when you edit your words before you speak. and they happen afterwards too.

lately, ive learnt that people are just people. all of us equally trapped, equally clueless, equally frantic, searching and running. i still standby and agree that - it's not like ‘finding someone’ lifts the fog, sends rescue - like i’ll be suddenly be delivered into some utopian sanctuary.

what i’m saying is, it would be nice to have someone you don’t hate, and who doesn’t hate you back, with you while you both light the closest thing on fire and figure out how to live or die together.

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the hardest lessons in 2025 came wrapped in ache, testing my refusal to self-abandon. and i leave this knowing that letting go will always be an act of devotion to my wholeness; yet i will always still, silently care for; and i carry that forward -

#text

bhloomest

xo great things take time xo

superkursunaskr

flowerytale

Edgar Allan Poe, from a letter to Mrs. Maria Clemm, July 1849

20th December 2025; 1031am

when someone tells u they're not over their ex, I think you're pretty much fucked no matter what u say next.

these are shoes I could never fill. I’ve been lucky enough to be loved by my dearest friends, that I forget I still carry the silent weight of my terror, of hiding the fact that I just want to be looked at and paid attention to.

I hadn’t realised how much I have come to doubt my ability to love another person consistently (and generously); to decide I would do it and not look back; to be able to not grow resentful because there were parts of them I did not immediately grasp or understand at the start; to not become an alien to myself.

thank you for reopening scars which i took 2 years to painfully stitch together. it hurts all the same.

#text

sverate

lovewanttimetopause

4th December 2024; 1200pm

the end of something is often a somber time: you think of things that you could have done, should have done, would have done; you resolve to do these things in the future, and you rue the erroneous past. i hate that im so drawn to them.

it's been two long fcking years - this past year i thought i had learned to grow out of u but the lineage of this wound is long. a succession of small wounds accumulating into an untouchable pain.

it is true that there was a period of time where i loved and cared sincerely. loving him felt like a gift but i was always apologetic of such intensities. i returned 3 days ago and found myself in the absolute animal terror of solidifying under the gaze of someone else, because i now have a shape they can see, touch, harm.

there are still things I hold true about the profession im in, the love i am still holding out for - how important it is to my actual identity; and whether i measure the worth of anything concrete through these attempts.

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i hope the next boy i learn to love traces the curve of my cheeks with his finger. i will trace the curve of his cheeks, knowing full well i will be grateful for love’s transformative character. to love someone who inspires me in a way that makes the silhouette of the large, gleaming person i can become, clear against the still-blank canvas of the future.

the person i’ll grow to become, feeling wistful about the person i am now, all these people strung together like a line of cut-out paper dolls holding hands. all these bodies then collapsible into a single thick form.

i’m at my best when i’m soft, brave and pink. a spunky crybaby child who wants her eyes to keep on sparkling.

i said goodbye to you two years ago but i found myself in you again.

pls . gently let. me go. for real this time, ok ?

#text