#not pictures is the dozen other plushies on my bed that also keep me company

[sennamaticart]

My Lackadaisy plushies came in the mail a few days ago! I can report back that they're very nice to snuggle with.

[alienthegreenalien]

since we’ve been quarantined, my mom and i have been digging up old photos to put them in albums, because we have so many and we think that people don’t make enough photo albums anymore.

because of that ive been seeing so many pictures of my childhood, of things that i could have gone all my life forgetting about. i truly forgot what it was like being a child until i saw those pictures. the ones of me proudly showing my drawings while dozen others are scattered on the floor, with my brother playing  on his super nintendo in the background. the ones of me fast asleep, head on the mattress while all my little ponies figures and dolls and plushies rested on my pillow, where i carefully arranged them so they’d sleep well with me. the ones of my grandmother holding me while i bite on my little toddler fingers and the look in her eyes, of pride, of absolute, unconditional love. she looks so young,  and so happy, and it makes me happy to see her like that but also hurts my heart because she died a year ago and i miss her so much. i see pictures of my parents, young and in love with their two kids and it feels weird when i look at us all now and i think “we are their future”. i look at pictures of my brother and i playing in the park where we went almost every day during our childhood, and i think about how these places don’t look the same anymore. it’s both endearing and hard to go through these pictures, because i have so much tenderness for the past, for the very unique and different little girl i was, and it hurts because i know what’s going to happen. i wish i could go back and protect myself, but also i wish i could get to experience it all again. the vhs tapes we put under the huge tv, my dad’s workshop in the apartment where i would stay to keep him company and watch him paint, the family computer  where i would watch my brother play halo for hours. our shared bedroom where our dad had painted a beautiful sun and stars in gold paint and put gold foils on two stars that my brother and i picked, our lucky star. We had a bunk bed and I’d sit up to touch my star every night before we went to bed, and i cried so much when we moved because i knew people would paint over my ceiling, my sky, my sun, my star. it still breaks my heart. 

i can still remember the smells, the feelings, the sounds, ever so faintly, but they’re still with me. i wish i could get to experience childhood again without feeling heartache. i don’t think i’m ever going to get over not being a child anymore.