⚜️
there are things i think are weird
but it’s not that they are actually
weird
it’s that they are unusual
or they bring me a new perspective —
one that i’m not so used to
— like seeing an orange tractor on the side of the road
surrounded by three men in orange
construction suits
in the middle of the french countryside
or the fact that
at the beach yesterday, the foggy glimpse of
land,
the island we could see in the distance
was the british island of jersey.
it made me think about how the world
is really so small
and that we, humans, are the ones
that make it seem so big and
vast.
we are the ones that over complicate
over think
over populate
over build
over use
over dignify ourselves
when we are just merely
visitors in this never ending universe.
and somehow, in some
situations that idea is
safety and
comfort. it’s refreshing
to know that as messy and as complicated
our lives are, none of it
actually matters. because if nothing matters, we can get away with a lot.
we can be mean and
crazy and stupid
and in love
and happy and hungry for more
and sad
and lively and alone.
but then i remember that “we are not a drop in the ocean we are the ocean in a drop”
and we don’t have to pretend that our
emotions are meaningless
and that our lives aren’t meant to be lived
and we aren’t meant to be thought about and
cared for and loved.
the things we feel are real and they hurt.
they are painful.
they are beautiful.
they stay and they pass.
just like the fog that covers up jersey —
just like the tractor on the side of the road —
just like us.
Jan 4, 2025
Related Recs
⭐
there is something figuratively beautiful about the things we know and don’t know, the sublime and mundane
and when you visit the beach, do you ever think about if the animals who live in the embrace of the depths remember the beauty of the ocean?
where the salt envelops every single one of us,
accepting us as kin
letting her wind tousle our raw, visceral edges
and pepper them with her sea-foamed kisses
which tell me that it’s okay to pretend
and okay to tell the ocean all of myself
the ocean reaches out to me, hands cloaked in the sharp coolness of water and something else- something i don’t understand
as I poke around in a tide pool, like a vendor at a bustling market, observing the wares that the ocean has to offer
and i turn around and ask her, do the barnacles see themselves? do anemones understand their own beauty, fragile and ephemeral?
i don’t think they do.
but the ocean doesn’t have any words for me, instead shutting my mouth with a shhhh
as her sandy dress rustles down the shore, laced with white foam and gossamer trails of ripples
and wordlessly, tells me to look
and i do.
until the sun hurriedly retreats from the wispy radiance of the moon, enrobed in puffy clouds
and it's just the three of us.
the moon tugs at the ocean’s hand, dancing to their own secret rhythm,
letting me see them in their love.
personally, i think it’s beautiful \\ and i wish i had something like it
and the ocean laughs. nothing jeering or ridiculing, simply an acknowledgement that i understand.
everything around me falls,
like petals cast off from a chrysanthemum.
and then, we were wordless
like the ocean had never spoken in the first place.
i want to descend into the depths of the ocean one day,
to be hugged once more and never again.
not because i am tired of being alive,
but frankly within me exists too much zeal to live.
uncontrollable surges of wow i am alive in flesh, blood through my veins, and thoughts in my head
become more addictive than any form of fentanyl, cocaine, heroin
and better than any gateway into a better life
or a better existence, transcending normality
and the moment it’s just me in my head, without the viscous energy of being alive
suddenly drains me like a leaking bucket,
decrepit and dry.
i want to burn like a torch, setting my world alight into embers,
into flames,
into an inferno.
Sunrise:: being alight || with a halo of only thoughts and dreams || and the divinity of something new
2d ago
⭐
you know,
all i like to write about is love.
writing is easier when it’s about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the two
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
—
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in
and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time
my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight
as i drag myself closer to you,
you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions
–
i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation.
i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you,
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
–
word by word and sentence by sentence
i create dreams i would never tell anybody
not even under the skies of a cloudless night.
when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow
and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot
something i should need more.
but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart.
soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth
and what i am afraid of will come
2d ago
you know what i find really interesting? that i’ve never not started a big little post like this without the words “you know what i find really interesting”?
anyone who has ever met me has been a victim of this same quote, with no fault of their own, i am but a broken record
“the entirety of your life is either waiting for the really good things or the really bad things” (my father)
you know what i find really interesting?
numbness.
not it’s presence , not its absence, rather the fact it exists at all.
i am
moved
by the fact i can be moved
i often wonder if i have felt the entirety of emotions possible my disposal
have i ever really been in love?
can i look upon you with tears in your eyes and say, definitively, i know how you feel?
is your happiness mine? do you understand my desires as i understand yours? i am but words on a screen and pixels that stand before you in their own right, words that are not contingent on your comprehension yet secretly hope and pray they do not fall on deaf ears.
i do not need your validation, but i want it. tell me i am beautiful, or smart, or that the funny words i use are any different than another teenage girls, tell me you know too what it is like to be numb, and sad, and happy, and hungry.
why do we write? why do we express? to remind you that i too am human, grappling with my own mortality every day? am i writing for you?
Feb 11, 2025
Top Recs from @sunflowerlady
🫀
i think my heart will do anything to just keep on loving and keep on forgiving and it’s really time for my head to teach my heart thats it’s okay to lose.
Jan 5, 2025
🌟
the idea that you can only fuck up and express and be beautiful and destructive and explorative and constructive in your youth is simply a myth. you are going to continue to fuck up and you are going to continue to blossom. there's no linear path and structure on that. even people in their 50's completely change their entire lives. nothing is fixed and there is no path to follow.
your life isn't over until it's over.
this narrative that once you start to age you can no longer explore and express is an oppressive, capitalist, and intentional one. also, it's just not true.
your responsibility doesn't have to be boring or restrictive. the reason why you become more responsible is because you actually care about yourself. irresponsibility isn't the same as freedom. irresponsibility can be "fun" but also destroys you. having more responsibilities to keep yourself safe and cared for isn't the antithesis to fun and life and expression.
your feelings make sense though. in college it's easier to meet people and try new things. but ease doesn't translate to quality or longevity or intrigue. but funny enough, there are 30 year olds now that probably feel the exact same way about you as you feel about the people slightly younger than you.
there is no such thing as free years in terms of spirit.
expression and exploration is available in all forms at all ages. there are always places to go, hikes to walk, friends to laugh with, mistakes to make, good food to eat, art to create, fights to have, things to fail at, lessons to be learned, and love to be felt.
you're only 23. you're about to enter a new chapter of your life where you will fuck up and you will have stories to tell, adventure to explore, feelings to express, and people to love. and that is something that will always be true.
Jul 11, 2024
🍒
a movie about two girls who just wanna have some fun and eat good food
Jan 4, 2025