A Dip in My Daydream

deletingmyself:

(by Tiago Muraro)

mindless-musing-deactivated2023:

The little me would be so disappointed with the current me. She didn’t dream big — honestly she didn’t dream that much, but atleast she was happy. And now, I still don’t have much of anything to dream about but I certainly know that I am unhappy. Not sad but there is this absence of happiness which just seems to be never-ending. I do want to dream of greater things happening for me but now I don’t see the point of it. I am not looking for happiness because as the old saying goes, you can look for happiness in the little things and sure I can get a kick of temporary happiness from the small things I enjoy but I am tired of building mud huts over a land of delusional happiness when what I am actually looking for is a home where I can actually feel content. I don’t know how to exactly put it but you know that feeling of ‘life may not be going the way I expected but I am satisfied with where it’s going because I can sense that something good is coming along the way’ — yeah I don’t think I will ever be able to feel that and maybe partly it’s my fault because I keep obsessing over how things used to be and right now I am just so exhausted to think about how things will turn out to be. I don’t think I even care about myself anymore but sometimes I feel that I am not doing enough justice for the younger me because even if I don’t deserve any happiness, she definitely did. But I guess it doesn’t matter now because I feel like I gave up on her the moment I gave up on myself.

atmung-deactivated20221128:

atmung-deactivated20221128:

ㅤ

daily affirmation

dayenerys:

“Tell me about Saturday,” I say. “Tell me.” Her eyes widen in excitement as if she has anticipated this very question, this chance to expose herself. Like a budding actress speaking her debut lines, she wets her lips with her tongue and draws in a long breath that threatens to inhale the whole room. “I danced and danced, toes and heels pecking the earth like birds feeding,” she answeres. Sandra always speakes like this: poetry at the speed of a subway train. “Where was this?” I ask, watching nothing but her lips. “In the rain. I danced between the strips of rain.” “This was Saturday?” “Yes” “Are you sure, Sandra? It didn’t rain on Saturday.” “It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.” “That sounds very painful.” “No, it sounds beautiful.””

—

Tablo, “Pieces of you”

2pmsoshinee:

““It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.””

— Tablo, Pieces of You 
(via korxxnhiphop)

literallyflashtrash:

Note to self: in order to write, you have to actually do more than stare at a Word document rereading what you’ve already written. For example, maybe typing new words would be a good strategy.

(via 2pmsoshinee)