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pink in the night

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Haruki Murakami Kafka On The Shore

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!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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but why am i still hurting? even if i did the right thing to let you go.

i don’t regret my decision even though some days, i question it. i wring it out to dry and make myself explain it. again and again and again and again, i tell myself why letting go is the best decision for me. i am no longer speaking to you. i don’t know you. i am thinking in third person - i wish i could be there with him. i wish i could be there for him. but i know he doesn’t want me to be. it’s that easy.

i keep thinking about what i’d do if he ever came back and i know that, of course, i would be there with open arms for him. i still want to be the kind of person who would thank him for opening up in a way he never has before, because i know how hard it is to open up to those who don’t deserve what you put them through. it’s harder when you don’t have a reason. harder when you know i am here thinking i should have cared more. should have showed him more love. should have been there as if in a second, he could have been gone. i miss him. think that if i did all of this shit for him, maybe he would have liked me. think if i told him that i valued him, it would change things. but also,

i want to thank him for leaving, because without his absence, i would have stayed stuck. would have never thought about how he never did anything for me either. had me still imagining a future when he won’t even reach out. i want to reach out. i’m sorry i haven’t reached out. but there’s only so many times i can do that without an answer without eventually feeling like even if he answered, he’d only be answering as a pitty response.

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Pride pillows ! 🏳️‍🌈🤎✨

Hope every fellow queer person can feel just as comfortable in their identity as in a mountain of pillows hehe 🧸

(Pride themes starting with p is a thing for me, 2020 was polaroids, 2019 was potted plants! I'm open for suggestions for next year🌸)

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Getting a camera is not a good decision to make.

Ever since, I really wanted to have my own camera. I am no longer contented of capturing things by my eyes, I wanted to keep things I do not want to forget, I wanted something that will remind me of a person, thing, place or moments that somehow made me appreciate the beauty of life. 

I have to say, I have less knowledge about photography and I am not photographer, but I feel like I can truly express myself if I have one. But the thing is, at this point in my life there are a lot of bills to pay, getting a camera is not a good decision to make. Increasing college fees, getting a camera is not a good decision to make. 

You see, adulting is something, priorities over wants and focusing on needs. Even if I wanted to buy myself a camera, I would rather spend it for college purposes so I can go to medical school and be a Doctor. Maybe someday, I will but right now getting a camera is not a good decision to make.

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I learned at 17 that I’ll always have someone on my side even when I’m wrong. I learned at 19 that the people I wasn’t friends with in high school were the ones missing out. I learned at 20 that my mom and my friends were right about that boy. I learned at 23 that your best friend doesn’t have to be human. I learned at 25 that the person you’d drive six hours to see for one day isn’t just a friend. But of all the things it took me too long to learn- I wish I knew sooner to spend my time with the ones who make things feel easy.

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ohh I wonder

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 under prssure

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Haruki Murakami

Lost opportunities, lost possibilities, feelings we can never get back. That’s part of what it means to be alive. But inside our heads - at least that’s where I imagine it - there’s a little room where we store those memories. A room like the stacks in this library. And to understand the workings of our own heart we have to keep on making new reference cards. We have to dust things off every once in awhile, let in fresh air, change the water in the flower vases. In other words, you’ll live forever in your own private library.

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Long nights.Coffee stained books. Dark circles. Half full cups scattered around a dimly lit room. Heavy rain hitting off a window. Water filling the gutters. Tchaikovsky playing quietly on a record player. A neighboring houses window open wide enough to hear the soft violin chords. Shy smiles at books. Half closed eyes. Soft hums

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alien

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