cowardlyriver

[cowardlyriver]

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

[cowardlyriver]

A childhood so lonely you re-enact it long after it ends, long after you stop being a child.

[cowardlyriver]

promise to be dazzling.

[cowardlyriver]

clara bow - taylor swift

[cowardlyriver]

#currently obsessed

what's so clever about Clara Bow is that when she references her own name at the end, she's not talking about the present but the future, quoting the inevitable way people are going to one day talk about her, imagining it will only be in regards to the woma(e)n who surpass her. because there will be someone who surpasses her, eventually. that's the cycle of fame, isn't it? we're simultaneously captivated by the alluring trick of the past while looking for the next big thing. we compare current stars to the lights that shined before them, "you look like taylor swift." but we're also constantly waiting for someone new and greater to take the crown and captivate us anew, "you've got edge she never did." And half the song is about acknowledging that being revered is hell on earth for the people who are in it, because you're always trapped between what came before and what will come after. you're only safe insofar as you remain shiny. But the real beauty of the song is that it never succumbs to this dichotomy, but embraces it. It's Taylor acknowledging she wouldn't be who she is were it not for the women who came before her, who shared the same dreams, and recognizing her place in the chain of the women who will come after. The future's bright, dazzling.

[cowardlyriver]

[cowardlyriver]

And maybe this too is a part of me. Maybe I cannot reject it all; the fumbling, sloppiness of life in exchange for the steady rhythm of success. All my cracks and fissures given away for an exhaustion free, guilt free existence. Maybe, impossibly, you will forget everything except my words, rushing and tumbling over one another. Maybe to exist by the river is to let oneself be run over by the weight of the water until your roots form. All of this to say, I am embarrassed about the confusion on your face, as I tried to string together a sentence coherent enough to be sensible. I am embarrassed about my inability to exist in all the ways I want to. I am embarrassed about my desire to control all of this even when I know I cannot, I am embarrassed about my fear of failure. How self absorbed of me to think that I would be spared from failure. To think I could live an entire life without failing, who taught me this? This fear of failure as if it is the plague and not the most human thing ever.

I am embarrassed about how much I fumble and drown in the face of my own life and choices. All of this to say; my life is my own and yet somehow my arms ache from the weight of it.

[cowardlyriver]

And I can't look you in the eyes. Not really. Mostly, I stare at the gentle light on the river as we cross the bridge. I look at your shoes as we make our slow way through the fallen autumn leaves. I stare at your hands when you are putting your things away, at your hands when you gesture about something you're passionate about, at your hands, at your hands, at your hands. At anything really, just to not have to contend with the blue green of your eyes.

[cowardlyriver]

And then I'm leaning across the small table outside the cafe in the dying light and touching the tips of my fingers to your face. Just the tips of my three fingers. Grazing the skin from your cheekbone to your jaw. There are no stakes here except the surprise on your face. There are no stakes here except my awe at the feel of your skin, cold from the chilly evening air. The waiter puts two coffees in front of us and my hand retracts with the rest of the daylight, taking with it my delight, my reserve, my impossibly quiet loud joy.

[cowardlyriver]

The Sun catches your outstretched hand, and my grip on reality dissolves. I am digging my nails deep into my palm to resist the urge to run my hands through your hair, all brown and golden in the sun. I get up and walk away while you are mid sentence, as if in a trance. The universe is all of a sudden so small, so indomitable, so focused on you.

The whole world comes down to this. Gentle sunlight streaming through your window, onto your quietly surprised face, and me walking away, as I always do, in every version of this story.

[cowardlyriver]

I am going to remember the depths of my wounds and still love you regardless.

[cowardlyriver]

The journey is so long, and I am so tired; my eyes are heavy, and there is a persistent ache in my back. My body droops like a leaf heavy with rainwater, and the world starts to look tilted. I care about our destination, only in passing. But I care about you at every instance. Especially your eyes. Your dark wide puppy dog eyes. Your soft vulnerable heart and eager spirit. Your ability to be kind at all of the times that you do not have to be.

The journey is so long, and I am so tired. I am resting my head on your shoulder. The fast, erratic, relentless beating of my heart is slowing down, my eyes are closing, and my mind does not race.

You do not say anything, only allow me the warmth of you, the quiet companionable solitude that allows my mind to wander.

I am dreaming of you now, all dark, wide puppy dog eyes and warmth and everything good. In my dream you are talking about something I find only slightly fascinating but I am staring at your eyes because I find you wholy fascinating and by extension everything you have to say, matters, becomes intensely fascinating.

The journey is so long and I am so tired, but you are there, everywhere, and it is all of it worth. every. second.

[cowardlyriver]

I want someone to give me the kind of love I cannot give to myself. The little things. I want a lover who leans over the kitchen counter to put cake in my mouth. And wipes the crumbs when they spill over. Someone who cannot resist tucking my hair behind my ears and holds my hand and soothes the wild winds of worry with a soft voice.

I want the kind of companionship that stretches and never snaps. Where you soften and harden together.

I want the world to make sense in a way it never has. I want long drives and removing my shoes before I enter your home, and all the other things that seem impossible right now.

There is something so big and all encompassing about this want; it's shape, threatening to swallow me whole. I gasp at the possibility of it, the impossibility of it, the fear of wanting so much that you are almost scared of chasing it away.

[cowardlyriver]

Two job-hunting resources that changed my life:

This cover letter post on askamanger.com. A job interview guide written by Alison Green, who runs askamanager.

[cowardlyriver]

I tend to inhabit spaces like I don't belong in them and I need to stop that actually

[cowardlyriver]

But you cannot avoid the heat of life. The challenge of it. The loss of it. The wild desperation of it.

You cannot have all of the joy without all of the fear. All of the glory without all of the fall. All of the mortality without all of the wrath.

[cowardlyriver]

I feel like I'm going to write forever, and still not get it right.