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so. i completely forgot i had a new tumblr. and at the same time, i completely forgot that i knew how to write. not at a basic level, like lea michele cannot read, but on the deeper level that writing is what i do. writing is what i turn to. and this morning i went to a guided journaling session and one of the girls there said that people are called to earth to cook or to paint and she is here to write. and i felt that. and we were all saying that we don't feel like we are consistent with journaling and the girl leading the session was like: consistency doesn't mean writing every day. consistency can mean journaling every saturday for five minutes. and i forgot how true that is and how i kept pushing journaling away because i didn't have time and i wasn't consistent with it. most of my recent entries are like: i'm not being consistent and i feel bad and like girl,,, why do you even need to. anyway, i don't know where i'm going with this, but it's nice to write again and i don't need to earn the right to journal or write or do whatever makes me happy. i can just do.

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"do it scared" ok but I would like to do something some other way occasionally. Like at least once. For a change.

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sometimes when i'm spending too much time in my head, i question why i keep writing at all. why i keep coming back to it, even though it made me literally sick. to the point that i had to stop completely because it was another way to punish myself, another way to feed my demons who were screaming that i was not enough.

and naturally, when people asked me who i wrote for, i used to say that i wrote for myself, because you'd sound pretentious if you didn't. but truth be told, i lived for the thrill of watching the zero turn into a small number, and then a medium number, and eventually a big number. i was always chasing the high of that big number. me, who notoriously hates numbers!

so now i'm gonna come clean and say that yes, i write for you and i write for validation. but i found another thrill, the one you get when you realize that you created something new, something that would not exist if you weren't so stubborn to keep picking up the pen anyway.

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so today i met a friend and we went to the park to read, but since she wanted to go home early because she was tired i decided to go to a cute cafè nearby and it's the classic aesthetic instagrammable spot that i'm so weak for. anyway, i was thirsty as hell so i asked the waitress what drink she would recommend. she recommended a juice and i love juices so i was pumped. unfortunately they ran of juices so she was like,,,coconut water? i've never had coconut water and i love coconut milk so i was like,,, why not. let me tell you that coconut water is the nastiest skank b*tch i have ever met. and since it was a fancy place i ended up paying 6€ for nausea and a headache :))) but i saw bus drivers saying hi to each other on the bus home so i guess that evened out.

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reeeeally been learning a lot about myself lately like oh. my life is actually just beginning

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Constantine P. Cavafy, from The Collected Poems of C. P. Cavafy; "September, 1904,"

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People used to comment on web comics.

People used to comment on fanfiction.

People used to comment on fanart.

People used to comment on OCs.

I hate "content" culture.

I hate "consuming content" and scrolling immediately to the next thing.

People used to be excited about the art that other people created.

People used to want to share that excitement with creators.

I hate this future.

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i wonder if you are well. if you ate breakfast this morning. if you took your dog for a walk. if you called your mother like you’d promised. if you listened to music on your way to work. if you thought of me.

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Federico García Lorca, from a letter featured in The Selected Letters of Federico García Lorca

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trying, always, unable to escape the desire to do better, be better, of ordering takeout when i have a full fridge, of second guessing when my friends say they love me, but believing it anyway, of fighting with imposter syndrome, of trying to justify people's mistakes, even when they hurt, of keeping love in pockets and being afraid to open them, of being scared of the future but loving the present, of wanting to be defined by my choices and not of what the world expect me to be.

God of ____________.

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i still want everything

and it's so deserving

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Clarice Lispector, from "Too Much of Life Complete Chronicles," publ. in 2022

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i wonder if there is a star that shines brighter than you

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Precious, he calls it,

How I know about the plants.

And he wants to go

Blueberry picking with me

For weekend baking,

Harvesting for wolf's bane

For home-concocted potions,

Foraging for labrador tea leaves

Along the trails.

He wants to learn,

Says, take me, teach me.

@nosebleedclub September 8th - Labrador

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do as oceans do!!!

L. V., i found this poem in a dream i didn't want to wake up from

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you're 12 and you feel like an alien because your dreams are bigger than dating the popular guy every girl is gushing about. you always say that you're gonna get the hell out of here once you're 18 because life should be bigger than your hometown. you're 17 and you're so close to the finish line that you can actually taste it, but at the same time, who are you kidding? you don't actually have the guts to fight for your dreams. you're 23 and you only allow yourself glimpses of happiness, because too much of it feels weird and undeserved. and finally, you turn 27 and take a leap of faith and let go of your inner ghosts. you move to a big old city and find your chosen family and you have a favorite spot at the park and the yoga teacher knows your name and you can't believe how stupid you were for not believing you could this sooner. but you also try not to be too hard on yourself because you remember all the tears and the skipped heartbeats and the courage it took you to get where you finally are.