foulbananathingspy

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channie of the day (11/∞) — 3RACHA live on realstraykids instagram (250407)

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the only important parts of chans milano vlog

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my last 'relationship' ended because of circumstance. the day-to-day was perfect, and more loving and fulfilling than I could have ever wished for myself, but I ended it because I needed something more devoted, more committed, more sure with the geographical distance that was to come. I picture myself entering my new relationship. I picture myself in my new partner's arms. will I ever not mourn my last? I've had break-ups before, amicable, adult, but unlike my others, this time neither of us wanted to end it. I ended it while things were good, perfect, magical even, before they could sour. unlike my others, with this one I don't look back at how I was wronged, nor did we have a spat to agreed to disagree on and move on from respectfully. upon second thought, maybe it is the same as the ones before it--i wanted to commit despite us about to be continents apart, and he didn't. perhaps this is an agree to disagree, perhaps it wasn't as perfect as I thought it was, and I am giving it more credit than it deserves. the difference between the last versus the ones before it is this last one wasn't me falling in love with the potential and then being met with disappointment. it truly was everything I ever wanted and more. The only potential I fell into the delusion of was the long-term potential, but perhaps that's an important one to acknowledge. i didn't make a mistake in leaving, but I fear I will never find a day-to-day love that deeply, wholeheartedly, and genuinely fulfilling again, even when in the arms of the next.

[foulbananathingspy]

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

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Got to the last phase of the hiring process for a job I’m applying for. Dude, my to-be boss is like the hottest man alive it’s not even funny. And his ACCENT omg

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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

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Plutôt qu’être seul mieux vaut être mal accompagné…

Cette une bonne chanson, et j’suis en accord…c’est moi qui a parti… mais pouquoi ça me blesse comme ça… cest le pire

Le pire et toi et moi semble pas comme la verité…

Stupid arcane song

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thinking back to being in the back of his Mitsubishi as a toddler replaying again and again 'hands-up! baby, hands-up! give me your heart, gimme gimme, your heart, gimme gimme."

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

[foulbananathingspy]

250118 | dominATE Hong Kong D1

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I remember when he would go glasses shopping he would go on this site where he could drag pngs into onto images of his face. He thought it was revolutionary that he didn’t have to go out and shop himself

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

[foulbananathingspy]

White Mitsubishi

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

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He’d say “you’re my honey”

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

[foulbananathingspy]

When he would drive down the 403 to мячики and the far McDonald’s

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

[foulbananathingspy]

I miss papa. I’m sitting in the living room with orange light remembering how I would get him to fix my keyboard.

Julia moved out of his house today and I was sitting and looking out of her window, remembering running behind the bushes hidden behind the backyard’s fence. I went into Katya’s room to think of this too. Sitting and remembering the pink princess table we had in what used to be Julia’s childhood room. I was sitting where papas bed once was, staring up at the ceiling fan that almost used to scare me as the three screws dawning each propeller looked like a pouty face. How papa would come up to the door frame, seeing him from that point in the room always. How he would sleep on the couch to give us the bed. How we’d wear his adidas shirts like dresses as pyjamas. How Julia or I would sit against the wall at the foot of the bed when getting upset about fantasia. Papa bought us memberships at some point.

Papa left. So did Julia. Soon, Sasha will be gone and so will the ties to that house. I’m not ready to lose my family.

I’m fortunate to have Sasha and mom down in the living by room while I was mourning in papas/julias (though it will always be papas room to me), for they are full of love, and I hate to mourn when I have such beauty with me. But it is all slipping away and way too fast. It is not fair that my time with my family will have passed me by before I even turn twenty. When Sasha is no more, katya will be impossible to be in touch with. And that is it for them and my brother. My family will be gone and I’ll have to make one of my own. Until then, I will be alone and scared.

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.

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Felix getting wild 😮

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We would always ask to put “funny cats” on the tv. Or I think we called it the funny movie? Зайчик и лук maybe we called it? I know that one now to be ну погоди. Julia would also ask to watch Barbie and the Magic of the Pegasus, and we’d pull up the loveseat in the area between the kitchen and the living room, and once I was eating the lucky charms marshmallows straight out of the large bag until there was only the cereal left. I’d also ask him for Tom and Jerry because I loved cats and didn’t want to outgrow it.

On another note, this reminds me that I would watch Карлсон, or however you spell it, with mom.

Writing things my dad would say. Before i forget them.

He’d call me “ты моя солнышко” he’d say “you are my everything” while attacking my forehead with kisses.