#rhythms of my thoughts

[littlebitsofsmile]

#1 To Build A Home - Rhythms of my Thoughts

summary: Rhythms of my Thoughts is a series of diary entries related to specific songs. Every song shapes my mind, my feelings, my mood - one rhythm at a time. word count: 1108 warnings: emotional dump

▵back to masterlist

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To Build A Home - The Cinematic Orchestra

This was one of the first songs I remember hearing early in my life—probably because of my weird obsession with the Step Up movie series, where this song was featured. If I remember correctly, it was in the fourth installment.

Back in the day, I wouldn’t have called myself a fan of classical music. But in retrospect, if I had to pinpoint the moment my appreciation for it began, it would probably be when I first started listening to this song.

It resonates with different times in my life when I felt truly happy with where I was—whether that was at home, traveling solo abroad, or moving somewhere new to start fresh. It might sound strange, but I feel most at home when I’m doing something new. I love trying things I’ve never done before, stepping into the unexpected, doing something extraordinary—something no one expects of me.

At the same time, I hate starting over. If you’ve had to start over as many times as I have, you probably know the feeling—that tightness in your chest every time you pick up a new hobby, meet new people, or start a new job. The weight of having to prove myself again and again, while also holding onto this constant need to do something extraordinary. It’s a spiral—the fear of missing out pushes me toward new things, but new things trigger the fear of not being good enough, which only drives me to push myself harder, trying to be anything but ordinary.

Sometimes, I wish I had grown up in a time before social media. A time when I wouldn’t be constantly exposed to the success of others. A time when my path would have been predetermined—like if my parents had been farmers, and there was no other choice but for me to become one too. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities I have. But sometimes, these endless possibilities feel like a presence looming over me, whispering that I’m wasting my potential. That I’m wasting my education because I’m not studying fast enough. That I’m wasting my youth because I’m not traveling enough. That I’d be wasting my career opportunities if I focused too much on the other two.

So, I constantly waver between choices, deciding what to prioritize—while, in reality, not deciding at all.

I know how lucky I am to even have options. I know many people don’t have that luxury. But that knowledge comes with an ache in my heart. Every day that passes without me making a clear decision about my life feels like time slipping away—time that others don’t have. And so, I don’t just feel like I’m letting myself down. I feel like I’m betraying those who don’t have a choice.

Why do I get the privilege of being confused, while others are trapped in circumstances they cannot change? There are people who would give anything for a single opportunity, a single chance. And here I am, struggling under the weight of having too many.

I am currently starting over. My life has been boxed up and stored away for about three years, and now it’s piling up in front of my eyes. Boxes filled with stuffed animals I never let go of as a kid, schoolbooks I vaguely remember reading for the first time, and DVDs I must have watched on repeat—though I never will again, because streaming services have taken over. And with every item I pull from these boxes, I decide whether it still has a place in my new apartment.

The walls are still empty. My shoes lay scattered in no particular order. The kitchen is a mess—appliances and plates cluttering the space around the sink, just above the dishwasher. Some drawers are half-open but empty. The only thing that reminds me of my previous apartment is the old TV I brought with me, now sitting alone on the floor, missing the sideboard it once rested on. The bathroom is chaotic, but not in a charming, I want you to think this is clutter when it’s actually carefully arranged kind of way—more in a a raccoon went wild kind of way. A mattress lies on the floor in the bedroom, and the first few nights were the most uncomfortable, because I couldn’t get the temperature right.

So, yes—starting over is exhausting. Starting over is tiresome.

But sometimes, especially in the mornings, I stand in my kitchen, and the rising sun streams through the huge window, painting the skyline in the most vivid colors. The apartment, unfinished as it is, is bathed in warm, golden light, and for a moment, I just stand there and watch. Sometimes, I even step out onto the balcony, inhaling the crisp air. Clouds form in front of my mouth as I exhale. My hands are cold. A single tear slips down my left cheek, leaving a wet trail that feels like it freezes instantly.

There is something oddly satisfying about witnessing a sunrise. Traces of the moon from the night before linger as the sun impatiently reclaims the sky. For a few fleeting moments, two worlds collide. People are still asleep, as are most of the birds. Only the distant rattling of the train below cuts through the silence, carried by the wind. My heart is calm. My mind is quiet. My worries linger but do not speak.

There is a saying that the sun loves the moon so much that she dies every night to let him breathe, and in return, he reflects her love. In this moment, I wonder if that saying also applies to two people—sparing themselves just enough time to look into each other’s eyes, knowing they cannot stay much longer. And yet, they steal that moment, hoarding it, pulling from it just enough strength to carry them through another day until they meet again. Do the sun and moon feel the same way?

Maybe that’s why I love a sunrise more than a sunset. I look forward to these thoughts every morning when I step outside and let the scene wash over me. The sunrise is a kind of tragic, desperate yearning—but also a promise. A new beginning. A chance to leave behind what no longer fits and step into the unknown, where endless possibilities await.

Sure, starting over can be exhausting every time we do it, and I still hate my cluttered kitchen. But with every new beginning, we become a version of ourselves that feels a little more at ease, a little more content—one step closer to becoming the person we are meant to be.

[ikam177]

Some lovely people have tried to inform me that real hedgies can have clicky purrs and I am very much aware of that. I just think Shadow is built different.

Like, louder.

[raintides]

finally playing project sekai 4 years late (i like the clown unit)

[aka-indulgence]

This is the only Nintendo direct ever

[linkedin-offficial]

me when i get the opportunity to think about speculative biology and non-existent game mechanics in media i like

⠀

[slavhew]

two guys enter a closet

[empiireans]

the spirits native to the valley are coffee addicts and they indoctrinate the young into their addiction

rhythm’s trying

[kiisuuumii]

@kiisuuumii (fool's love spell)

[skythesnake]

"Who are you when you aren't saving anyone?"

Hey. Hey, look at me. Don't walk away, from me after saying that. Hey, what the fuck. You hit me directly in the mental illness. Come back here and take back what you said.

[singlecelledbutch]

i wish we had longer together

[littlebitsofsmile]

Masterlist ・。・。・。・。・。・。・。・。

F A N F I C T I O N A list of works related to famous people and yes, there's too many of them. Categorized in (in progress), (ongoing) and (finished)

▵if you let me [kim namjoon] (finished): Unsaid words and heavy hearts - that’s what Namjoon seemingly left behind when he enlisted in the military. Three years later, he still hasn’t stopped needing that home, that anchor, that quiet support from Sowon - the girl who loved him silently and now watches his return through a cracked phone screen and a blurry livestream. Seeing him and that familiar blue, rectangular object - the diary she gave him on their last day together - makes her wonder if he still remembers her too.

▵paper cuts [jung hoseok] (in progress): She’s one of the few talented female songwriters, and he’s a media-declared golden retriever slash K-pop idol. While Hayeon carefully maintains her anonymity by working mostly with international stars and using a secret identity, he’s baffled by his new neighbor’s strange habit of sleeping in and going out late. Little does he know, the very producer he’s been begging to work with is the one who throws fireblades at him whenever he shows up at her doorstep.

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O R I G I N A L S A list of works I consider to be worth sharing, because I simply cannot get the plot out of my head.

▵whispers through the night (in progress): "赤い糸" or Akai ito, meaning the red thread, refers to a connection between people or events - in other words, fate. Through a series of unusual events, Haru and Eloise find themselves drawn together, as if someone is orchestrating their paths. As if someone is whispering in their ears. Like whispers through the night, guiding them to find one another.

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I N S I D E S Keep your brain clean and let your inner thoughts flow. Writing something is better than not writing at all.

Rhythms of my Thoughts is a series of diary entries related to specific songs. Every song shapes my mind, my feelings, my mood - one rhythm at a time. ▵To Build A Home (09.03.2025) ▵The Night We Met (in progress)

[nightlight-rising]

games they should add to fairgrounds:

sudoku

minesweeper

rhythm game

[radio-writes]

Keep All Your Worries Aside

Alastor on his partner's birthday - Headcanons

Warnings: implied power imbalance, slight manipulation

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, fluff, self indulgent as hell

MDNI

Alastor used to adore birthdays when he was alive. It was the perfect time to get to know people; friends and targets alike.

He also got the chance to earn the person's favor, which was never a downside to him. He never knew when it would be useful to have those people on his side, after all.

Whenever he had partners in his lifetime, whether just for show or out of genuine care for their company, he spoiled the ever living heart out of them. Dinner, gifts, dancing, his absolute undivided attention—whatever they wanted and more he made sure to give it all to them.

It was unconsciously an addicting habit for him. He loved the way it made them so happy. How he knew he was the cause of their smiles and hence could just take it away any time he wanted to. How it made them so thankful to get to spend such a special time with him.

After he died, however, the excitement over birthdays was all but left behind in the mortal part of his existence.

Alastor didn't see the point of celebrating a birthday, specially when in Hell. After all, he was hard pressed to even find anyone that was happy about being born into this world, only to be stuck in such a miserable cesspool in the end.

And besides, not a lot of wandering souls even revealed that much of themselves anymore. Something as personal as a birthday was often kept a secret, in fear of it being used against them somehow.

Perhaps, sarcastically, he has brought up the idea here and there. If he knew it brought some sort of anguish or misery to some lowly sinner, why wouldn't he? 

But when it was his darling partner who just openly shared such information with him? Oh, he just couldn't help but to be interested.

Such a little act showed how much they trusted him, and he couldn't just let that go unpaid, could he? It would mean he would owe them, after all.

Alastor found that his old habits came back a lot faster than he expected them to. He found himself dragging his darling out all around the pentagram—whether they wanted to go or not—showing them off, showing them the sights, showing them a generally great time with his arm looped around theirs.

He bought every single thing they even glanced at, but he didn't dare burden their arms with holding it all. No, he had his shadow creatures trailing behind, carrying all his gifts for them.

Couldn't he just simply bring them into their room at the hotel? Of course! Easily so with a snap of his fingers. But that wouldn't be as fun as getting to show off just how well he could provide for his partner.

It's only when his dear finally asked him to ease up on the fanfare—they feared the trail of shadows would cause a traffic accident at this point—did Alastor finally stop and just transported their gifts to the hotel.

He took them out dancing, shopping, drinking. Always had a hand on them no matter what, to keep them close.

He found that old giddy feeling in his chest seeing his darling smile because of him—knowing he alone caused their happiness.

And when they thanked him at the end of it all? Said those oh so humble words

"I have no idea how to repay you for all of this."

Well, no one could blame him when his grin stretched just a tad bit wider. Eager, excited, thrilled. He hadn't exactly set out to earn any favors on their birthday, it was simply to pay back the trust they gave him.

But hey, he wouldn't turn down having his darling in debted to him. And he could certainly think of a few ways they could return the favor.

It is my birthday and if I say I want fluffy Al, I'm getting fluffy Al.

[tavina-writes]

love how every time I finish up a major wip I'm always like "I'm done! I've did my best! I wrote the best thing that I've ever written!" and then I wake up the next day and it's like "oh yeah actually I have more to say" and when I do finish the next work it's a better work than the one that came before it.

And that's nice because sometimes I'm like, "what if I have said all I have to say about a beloved ship/trope/fandom/whatever" and you know what that's the devil speaking because in the past I've always found something else to say.

anyway! if you're down in the dumps like me today about "have I actually peaked?" the answer is no you haven't. You're just getting started.

[dimeadozencows]

I think there's something wrong with my rhythm heaven fever copy

[simplydnp]

this further solidifies i am absolutely a tumblr phannie