too blessed to be depressed @xiobekhulit - Tumblr Blog

On Mothers and Pain - Collected Works #1

— her pain was mine, but mine not hers.

Excerpts from-

Autumn Sonata by Ingmar Bergman • On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong • Letter to my Rage: An Evolution by Lidia Yuknavitch • honeytuesday • sixisockets • La Flor de Lis by Elena Poniatowska • The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera • The Unfinished World and Other Stories by Amber Sparks • A Mother's Hate by Sam Gordon • Salt by Nayyirah Waheed

bookaddict24-7

"As for reading, I wish I had a magic door to a library where I could go in, read for days and days, and come back in the same minute I left. I'm still looking for the door."

―David Mitchell

valtsv

ever since i learned about ghost buildings i haven't been able to stop thinking about them

valtsv

this is body horror

thepersonalquotes

redeemed-renewed-restored

Nothing puts your own mortality into perspective but the very threat of it.

Some post-hospitalization thoughts

#2023 #DinWrites #Stuff

It was summer, around 2009. I remember because I paid for our fare, & I was already a working student then. It was an impromptu trip to Bataan, a reunion of some sort with your siblings that we only learned the day of. And so despite the lack of sleep, I accompanied you. It was one of our classic adventures together. By that time, we see very little of each other. The rare times we interact at home often led to arguments, & so I try to avoid them altogether. But that day was different, it was one of your better days, I'd like to see how long it'll last. 2 hours in during the trip & your good mood had soured. We were lost. Two of us commuting to Tay Bong's residence, & both clueless with the destination. We didn't even know which terminal to get off at. My really old 3310 nokia was shutting off during calls & the signal was also problematic. We found ourselves having lunch in one of those roadside eateries near the terminal in Orani. You ordered something with gata, while I had adobong balunbalunan. The summer sun was too much but we were sharing a bottle of cold coke, & we were talking. You asked about the night job, & the schooling. You wondered how I was managing, & for a fleeting second it felt like you missed talking to me. It was as if everything was okay with us. And then a text came in with the better instructions of our commute. We went our way. We eventually met up with Kuya Ebong, & we arrived safely, grand entrance ika nga. I almost forgot that day until Ate Karen sent this photo. The epicness of the trip all came back, & though it seemed we were hopelessly lost, I wasn't worried for I was with you. I should have written about that day, but I didn't. I'm instead left with this murky recollection. I'm an unreliable narrator with this unreliable narrative. Sorry, Pa. Just like that day, I almost forgot. This virus had me preoccupied. It's been 7 years since you left, that means these hands were no longer the same hands that used to hug you, I'm not even sure if I'm remembering you correctly. I may no longer be the same person when this picture was taken, but my longing for you is still the same. I hope you're happy. We're okay. https://www.instagram.com/p/ClOwWiUBWkPSzrcKjmYfSdvy-MnT9Yq6ieQekE0/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

dragonsanddarkacademia

"You know, one of the hardest things to admit is that we weren't loved when we needed it most. It's a terrible feeling, the pain of not being loved."

- Alex Michaelides, The Silent Patient

nilim

Ok, so I was reading this news story:

So far so normal, right? But then:

Like what. And then:

Like, I think Alaska State Trooper Ken Marsh wants to be a romance novelist.

panicblanket

well would you look at that

autisticexpression

One of the best posts

eulesposting

Sometimes the small pleasures hit different. A clean house, a hot drink, making something from scratch, sitting on the porch with a loved one. Little soul-feeding activities.

eulesposting

Sometimes the small pleasures hit different. A clean house, a hot drink, making something from scratch, sitting on the porch with a loved one. Little soul-feeding activities.