Future Love

Aspiring powerhouse. California-grown. Consistent musings & things I find aesthetically pleasing.

[youngandrelentless]

Ready to go.

I am quietly relocating away from California.

I need to simply… sit. And think. And process. And figure out what the fuck is next for me, for my life. A launch pad made of stillness.

It’s very hard to grieve and even harder to move forward in a world that is both shut-down and rightfully burning.

Ironically, I have spent every phase of my life in rebellion desperately working to leave my hometown, only to return, depart, return, depart, return again.

The stars aligned and the final stretch was purely and cruelly perfectly intended to make me stay put.

I never ever thought things would actually turn out this way.

Home is simply gone. There is a tragedy and a freedom in that, all at once. The deep uncertainty of the future is something I’ve given up trying to control and instead throw myself headfirst into. More than ever, I cannot plan a goddamned thing. But I’m ready to keep changing and shifting and moving.

It’s so bizarre to look around at the places and palm trees and the ocean I’ve known my entire life and either feel absolutely nothing or completely heartbroken.

I have never wanted to leave more — but rather than wanting to leave to somehow prove myself, it just feels like I want to claw off my skin and crawl out of it.

I think it’s always better to leave in a high rather than a low. I’m in my lowest low but want to keep the nostalgia of the time spent here in a high. Somehow if I keep those memories alive and real, they’ll drown out the trauma and suffering that cut our time here shorter than it should have ever been.

And so I’ll run from the memories of horror and do everything I can to preserve and treasure the rest.

I hope the hues of time and distance and nostalgia soak the images of the pure, untouched, good times and stain them with permanence.

I also hope I can cope with the brutal reality that I’ll never get them back.

[youngandrelentless]

Yo te soy sincero, y no le tengo miedo A la muerte, si es que me quiere Aquí la espero de frente sonriente El dolor lo llevo dentro El dolor lo tengo presente Soy mujer de sangre en luna De tierra, sal y duna Sin pena, sin duda El dolor lo llevo dentro El dolor lo llevo dentro

I ache so deep in my bones. I’ve been so extremely sheltered and fortunate to have never had anyone close to me die.

I come from a long line of women who have suffered and been handed tragedy. I know far too many people who skate through life, and I thought I was blessed enough to be one of them.

I am only 25 years old.

I know I can move forward. I just have to readjust my way of walking with this new weight.

[youngandrelentless]

I lost my mom yesterday.

I don’t know why I’m writing about it here.

Somehow writing here means things are real, they’re true.

I held her hand. I never left her side. I watched her peaceful transition. I am so grateful.

It was a world of calm after so, so much cruel pain and suffering.

I pray to God I can erase the memories of the past 16 months. Of the unspeakable things she had to endure as a result of this insidious disease. Of the constant battle with no respite, even after victories.

All I ask to keep from that battle is her resilience, her sheer will to live a full life, and the core lessons endured and learned. Otherwise, I want every single thing before.

I moved heaven and earth to take care of her. I did everything I physically could. I negotiated logistics like a motherfucker -- I learned how to stand up and fight. She fought for her life and I fought to take care of her. I have no regrets. I never left her side.

She didn’t die alone. She didn’t die in vain. And she will live forever and ever and ever.

I’ll make damn sure of it.

[youngandrelentless]

Tumblr is pretty much dead and yet I still occasionally make space to update this tiny shred of my life. I guess it makes sense since I began with oversharing and have dwindled to nothingness now that I’m deep into adulthood.

Sometimes writing here just feels like putting my life out into the ether, to know it’s real, to mark that it’s happening, to look back and remember Oh, right. I lived that.

The past couple of months have been the most tremendously difficult and scariest of my life. Take any struggle and challenge I’ve ever faced, add them all together, multiply them by a thousand, and they still pale in comparison.

I almost lost my mom, my only parent, on November 1st.

I got her to the emergency room just in time, despite her insisting she would be fine, where we quickly learned she was near death, and after a whirlwind sequence of events, learned she has a rare bone marrow cancer. So much else has transpired since then that I feel too exhausted to write about -- partially because nobody reads this and somehow that feels like oversharing? And also partially because I someday hope I forget these details.

What’s important is that she thrived through and after treatment and continues to improve before the next phase of treatment. I am forever in awe of her strength, tenacity, grace, fearlessness, and positive, sharp attitude.

The overwhelming, complex, and painful parts of this entire journey thus far transcend words. I feel utterly alone and yet overwhelmed by support.

All of the innocence I had left has been wiped away. The life I had just 8 weeks ago doesn’t exist and isn’t coming back. Ever. I’ve grieved it -- probably more than is appropriate. But I’m also making peace.

I’m thankful that I’ve learned so much. I’m thankful for wisdom.

I’ve found strength within myself I never knew I had from places I never even knew existed.

A kiss with death and miracles that follow. Life is funny in that way, I suppose.

I have also learned that, more or less, we are all living on borrowed time. The question is: what are you doing with it?

[distantflowr-deactivated2018091]

[thedreslyn]

Saskia Diez’s Fine Pearls

https://www.thedreslyn.com/theblog/mothers-day-gifts/

https://www.thedreslyn.com/fine-necklace-pearl-gold.html

[youngandrelentless]

Still surviving. I guess - thriving. Started kickboxing and it’s done wonders for my mental health, and the physical strength is a huge bonus. I’m in love with it, you guys.

I think things are okay.

[youngandrelentless]

Just popping in to share an ULTRA-DRAMATIQUÉ excerpt I found in a really old private blog of mine, written early December 2012 (I was 18 years old living away from home for the first time):

Of course there is a piece of my heart that will care for a while longer, but he no longer tugs at my heartstrings, no longer occupies a space at the forefront of my mind, a space that would cradle the mere thought of him day in and day out while the beating organ in my chest was crushing under the pressure.

I’m doing some shadow work and had a flashback that I kept this blog from the summer after high school til just before my second semester in San Francisco. Oh, what a fucking trip it is.

I still remember so much of this like it was last week. If I immerse myself in the words, I can even feel the emotions I was swimming in at the time.

Lately I’ve pined for a more innocent, naive time.

But reading this shit makes me soooo thankful for growing up.

[explicitcherry]

*looks at the moon* well arent you gonna help me bitch

[mjalti]

me, killing my idealized self so I can finally thrive instead of just survive

[20aliens-deactivated20200625]

[joli--coeur]

[luthienne]

I wait every year for summer, and it is usually good, but it is never as good as that summer I am always waiting for.

Martha Gellhorn, in a letter to Hortense Flexner and Wyncie King, from Selected Letters of Martha Gellhorn (via luthienne)

[we-should-be-legendary]

[welcometoitalia]

Napoli

[hismija]

[adorableprincessnini]