Do The People We Drift Away From Ever Return To Us.

Me waiting for life to throw me a plot twist, because it seems my main canon event is being a depressed lonely woman/person in her 20s who lays in bed every day and just ......waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and waits and for what? I couldn't tell you, probably waiting to evolve or wake up to a more hopeful tomorrow.

The night won't last forever. Wait for the sunrise.

the biggest lesson im learning is that nothing is as extreme or as permanent as our emotions convince us they are. nothing is certain and things are always fluctuating and there are always exceptions and there are always mistakes. there is always pain and there is always love. everything is a delicate touch away from changing

I would have sent a message but I thought I should send an ask. I love your blog. I love the way you write ad what you write.

I always appreciate a kind ask , especially considering the amount of silly troll ones I get. Thankyou so much 🌼 this was really lovely to hear, I needed something like this today so thankyou🩷🌺🩷🌺🩷

I saw you there. Cigarette lit and back against the door. I watched you, I hadn't seen you in years yet you looked the same, But nothing between us was. I wanted you to notice me, I couldn't approach you, so instead I hoped you'd find my eyes and hold out your heart for me to love again. But our hearts didn't know each other anymore, so I left you by the door.

Have I become addicted

to the sadness,

has it evolved into a hybrid

of apathy

of melancholy.

Will it stitch itself to my eyelids.

Will it clog up my narrow veins.

Is this the type of pain,

that drives my buried hope insane.

I went to an all girls secondary school, I remember my mother telling my primary school teacher that there would be no boys to distract me there. That it was better and it's true that there where no boys, well no cis boys. But there where men. Men who walked up the stairs too slowly behind when you wore a skirt, men that leaned over you to correct math mistakes that didn't exist, men that made girls loudly spell out why when they needed to use the bathroom. Men that shouldn't have been anywhere near a school. There wasn't many boys to distract us, but there where men that betrayed us.

So I sat in anxiety fueled suspense waiting and telling the little voice that kept saying "just ignore the call it's fine" to stfup, all for nothing. Last minute this phone call has been rescheduled for Saturday and it's now an in person appointment, which I don't know if that's worse or not . (yep that's worse).But thankyou for the support guys.

In about ten minutes I'm going to receive a phone call and I probably shouldn't be making a post, because I always start freaking out just before (so rn). but I'm doing this to trick my brain into being semi productive, basically I'm getting the ball rolling and hoping I can cling to whatever motion is left for the phone call.

I usually sit in literal silence for hours before any call so that I can store up social energy and mentally prepare myself, but sometimes I instead start getting more anxious the closer it comes to the call time, and when that happens I just don't pick it up. It feels like there's a wild animal waiting on the other end but also one looking over my shoulder ready to get me if I don't pick up.

So I'm going to just make this random rambling post and hope I stay out of my amygdala. Gosh I hate this lol, I've been through way scarier things but waiting on phone calls always feel like falling down an elevator shaft.

I can't think about you for too long, but sometimes you climb out of my Amygdala and I let your face press against my prefronal cortex. Your presence is mostly wrapped in bubbler wrap, hidden in a back room, somewhere near the things I can't talk about and the things I should have. I've quietly closed the door, but it's not locked, I don't think it ever will be, I don't think I want it be. But that room isn't a place I like to visit, it only holds you and the things that shouldn't have happened.

I drag this hope in hand

I pull it along

Shouldering past

all of my mistakes

I hold it up to the sunlight

I call it radience

I don't let go

When I think of you I think of red, the red of our kitchen walls, the red that you always chose to colour your lips with or wear with your clothes. I think of my red blood rushing past my ears, I think of the sound it made.