The Night Won't Last Forever. Wait For The Sunrise.

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! Get to know your mutuals and followers. ❣️

It's probably a bit sad that I can't think of 5 off the top of my head. But the quiet moments when there are no worries or things to do hiding on the back burner. When it's raining so heavily outside it feels like the safest warmest place on earth is your bed, and so you lay there with only that thought and feeling for a little while and it's enough. Enough to make the hard things worth it.

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.

When pain has crossed the limit

It turns into a heavy stone

It sinks into soft skin

Continuing past flesh and bone

Until it finds it's way

To your feather light soul

And there it stays

heavy and cold

The icecream man is driving down my street with the song playing loud and I'm Feeling intense nostalgia, for the childhood I still cling to. I feel it melting away, it's cool softness turning watery, slipping between my fingers.

Anyone else physically recoil when thinking about how we are made of flesh and bone. I can even look at uncooked meat, if I've seen it raw I can't eat it cooked. And if it looks like a limb I'm not eating it at all. Then I think about how my body is uncooked meat and my bones possible tools and I shudder, I feel far too close to the tendons and the blood, I feel alive, so alive that the sound of my heart is a warning and a blessing, I feel so alive I'm afraid I'll die, I'm afraid of how gruesome it is.

Sometimes I think the dreams are either alternate versions of me or another person completely and I'm just hopping along in their life that night.

I had a dream I was a woman working in a book store but this woman was not me. I've had this dream before over a decade ago, same woman, same bookstore. She now has her own office so she's doing well since the last dream, she seemed happy, fulfilled. I woke and felt motivated to do something with my life. Maybe visit a books store, maybe I'd see her in the women checking out books, Maybe I'd one day see myself with my own book adorning the shelfs.

I wonder if she dreams of me, I wonder what she sees. Am I a recurring dream, the Young women that prefers to stay curled up, that never went out with friends and now lives half in a world of pretend. Does she see me lay in bed, lost but searching, waiting but hiding. Am I a nightmare. Does she wake confused and heavy and think thankgod that's not me.

Am I only ever meant to dream of what could have been.

Let hope wrap you up in its gentle arms, let it never let you go.

I want to live not just survive, here's to 2025.

barefoot in the garden

Prickly grass under my feet,

the pale sky stretched out above my head,

As I watch small insects

carry away their dead.

I just have to say something. Omg. I read your most recent post and I've reread it so many times tonighy, and maybe it's because I'm sleep deprived but it made me ugly cry so hard and I couldn't stop going back to it, like it's so surreal and I'm sorry.

AH I'm sorry!! Thankyou for reading it and it's okay I'm okay, I haven't seen him in years. 💚