I Want To Finish University In Three Years And I Want To Be 20 And Move To Boston Or Cambridge Or Rome.
I want to finish university in three years and I want to be 20 and move to Boston or Cambridge or Rome. I want to have a house of my own, one that I can call home. I want a wishbone drying on the windowsill of my kitchen, just in case I wake up and realize I’ve chosen wrong. I want to brew coffee in the morning and drink it in the expensive china my mum bought when I was 16. I want to dye my hair blonde at 19 and dye it again at 20 because I want to be okay with not being those blondes who always have fun. I want a navy blue or an emerald green or a tangerine orange sofa to lie on, on the nights the bed feels too heavy and the kitchen floor feels more cynical than I do. I want a pink wall and a yellow one. I want there to be a candy bowl on the center table, always. I want to wear slip dresses and long, heavy boots under big coats. I want to like my flushed nose and red cherry-stained lips. I want to get a million little tattoos. And a piercing or two; or four. I want to love but god, love is a phantom that dances just beyond my reach.
More Posts from Itsrainyheart and Others
i can't seem to remember the last time i dreamt, yet every day feels like a dream. i wouldn't want to call it dissociation because my awareness denies me this pleasure; even though defining is limiting, sometimes i wonder how it feels to fit in a definition, without the ifs and the buts. human beings are paradoxical. she loves me, she loves me not, no, she loves me more than i can bear so i push her away and then feel guilty about being a deplorable being (or im just 16); i tell him i don't want him but i never know what i desire, so how can i be so sure? the day goes by, crying and wailing but a few words from her feel like a beam of light in a space darker than the ever consuming one inside me. the enormity of my desire disgusts me. but they always tell you to dream big and the moment you do, they ask you to put your foot on the ground because life's gruesome, we never get what we want. i position myself in front of the mirror, look in her eyes, at the crook of her neck, the stomach, the body she can't provide to. it is to say, that i've never been a natural and all i do is try but in reality perhaps, all i was, was a natural and i never did try. the biggest joke is, i don't remember being young at all, i was always this old, always aching, always decaying. maybe the real tragedy is having to let go what you never knew, what never was yours. you are fine. this is fine. and your life's a long line of fine.
“Fall in love gently. Remind yourself that you are the longest relationship of your life. Remind yourself that you are a child of this universe and that you are worthy of happiness. Fall in love with the way you feel things deeply. The color of someone’s laughter. The texture of someone’s kindness. The nostalgia of going back to places that caused you so much pleasure and pain. You are an old soul trapped in a body that’s slowly, slowly decaying. You are a traveler of both the outer world and the inner world. Fall in love with your failures. The events that shaped you into becoming who you are today. Embrace your shortcomings for they serve as a lesson in your formless memory. Forgive yourself for everything that is causing you so much pain. It is a brutal process, and you must get through it. Self-hate can only generate more worry in your life. Let it go. You don’t have to carry it forever. Fall in love with your body. Romanticize it. The freckles on your face are constellations. The heart-shaped birthmark right behind your hips. The positive aura of your gummy smile. The way that your body is working hard to keep you alive like electricity lighting up a whole city on a cloudless night. Fall in love with your existence. The little things that make you who you are. The poetry that you write. The instrument that you play. The way you put your makeup on as you face another challenging day. These little things that make you who you are come from the way you express your being. Fall in love with yourself until you finally feel like home.”
— Juansen Dizon, Soft Reminders (via juansendizon)
“We chose the term “asexual” to describe ourselves because both “celibate” and “anti-sexual” have connotations we wished to avoid: the first implies that one has sacrificed sexuality for some higher good, the second that sexuality is degrading or somehow inherently bad. “Asexual”, as we use it, does not mean “without sex” but “relating sexually to no one”. This does not, of course, exclude masturbation but implies that if one has sexual feelings they do not require another person for their expression. Asexuality is, simply, self-contained sexuality.”
— The Asexual Manifesto, Lisa Orlando and Barbara Getz, 1972
Rita Ora with a chrome dinosaur spine, 2023
home is where the <3 is
The Letters of Emily Dickinson
what's wrong babe you've barely touched your potential even though all your elementary teachers really liked you and said you were gifted and that you were going to do great things
"J comme Joie", L'Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze
it scares me how temporary everything is
