twothirtytwoam

[twothirtytwoam]

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4th December 2024; 1200pm

the end of something is often a somber time: you think of things that you could have done, should have done, would have done; you resolve to do these things in the future, and you rue the erroneous past. i hate that im so drawn to them.

it's been two long fcking years - this past year i thought i had learned to grow out of u but the lineage of this wound is long. a succession of small wounds accumulating into an untouchable pain.

it is true that there was a period of time where i loved and cared sincerely. loving him felt like a gift but i was always apologetic of such intensities. i returned 3 days ago and found myself in the absolute animal terror of solidifying under the gaze of someone else, because i now have a shape they can see, touch, harm.

there are still things I hold true about the profession im in, the love i am still holding out for - how important it is to my actual identity; and whether i measure the worth of anything concrete through these attempts.

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i hope the next boy i learn to love traces the curve of my cheeks with his finger. i will trace the curve of his cheeks, knowing full well i will be grateful for love’s transformative character. to love someone who inspires me in a way that makes the silhouette of the large, gleaming person i can become, clear against the still-blank canvas of the future.

the person i’ll grow to become, feeling wistful about the person i am now, all these people strung together like a line of cut-out paper dolls holding hands. all these bodies then collapsible into a single thick form.

i’m at my best when i’m soft, brave and pink. a spunky crybaby child who wants her eyes to keep on sparkling.

i said goodbye to you two years ago but i found myself in you again.

pls . gently let. me go. for real this time, ok ?

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Instagram credit: myphotography_com

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Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

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A Burst of Light, Audre Lorde

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Sunday, 7 April 2024; 1100am

can we stay like this forever? can we be here in this room 'til we die?

// i think we can make it i hope that I'm right

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having to come to terms with the fact that love is not an everlasting performance in which you attempt to retain the attention of your significant other but rather a release of control and putting faith into them and trusting them to choose to stay with you no matter what you have to offer

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Hanif Abdurraqib interviewed by Ruth Awad: Joy Is Not Promised to You

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Monday, 8th Jan 2024

these days are wet and amniotic. im waiting for warmer days. anw here's a reminder for 2024 mood :

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@sophievanderperre

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Sometimes, I cry so hard I can feel it in my ribs. / I feel like the real me is backed into a corner inside me

— Ama Asantewa Diaka, from "Saturday Evening WhatsApp Message," Woman, Eat Me Whole

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Deer On the Side of the American Highway by Devin Kelly

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— Franz Kafka, The Octavo Notebooks