but you’re always going to be forgiving.
you’re always going to remember the sound of their laugh and decide that you still have a space in you for when you get to hear it again. you’re always going to have them in the back of your head, those tiny, silly things they say and do, and you’re always going to smile remembering, more than you’d care to admit. you’re always going to remember every word in their favorite song. how, when it’s just you, you catch yourself humming it, and you’d stop at the way it still drowns out the silence after all this time. there’s always going to be things that remind you of the good. of the lonely. of the back and forth.
and you’re always going to be forgiving.
but, damn, you will be fiercer in your decisions. in what you say and do, in what used to sound stupid even for you, in what used to mean less. you will be more out there. confident in your love and toughness. not questioning your every move and if it will hurt. you will be better at holding yourself together, because you learned a great deal of things while picking yourself back up.
and they will know.
because you will be loud about the empire you’re building within yourself.
why do i have to find an actual job instead of being the apprentice of the old witch who lives in the woods?
(via kawaiidegger)
i. it was greener where my friends and i used to laugh.
ii. once, i had to rest my hand on the small of her back so she doesn’t forget to be happy. it was raining then. the kind that lasts for a whole day and just quietly falls. i remember vividly because her tears were the same. i guess i’ll never forget the faint sound, her weak grip.
iii. most people remember where they were when they had their first heartbreak. i don’t. but i remember who i was. i remember the heart that i had and failed to ready. i always wished that i remember places instead and not the core of the storms.
iv. i hope you never come to me to tell me that you always see me in your dreams.
v. one day it will make sense why you had to protect your corners.
there is no perfect dream—
the night is supposed to be foolish and rocky
🌙
—Irally Cariaso
you write about what you learn but what if it’s all about flowers. the newness you feel in early february when you thought that it’s not going to get stuck in the haze. mirrors and crazy dancing in the dark and wet pavements. the familiar sway. lights that eventually dim after years of being present. and then the absence. so what if you only feel for the wind. who’s to say that’s not something. anything.
nostalgia is when you ask about what’s coming but you’re answered with the past. it’s wondering if places did get suffocating, or if you’re just breathing differently now. today is no different. the question remains about remorse. how soon in life you learned about it. who. when exactly. how to crawl out of it. is there even an opposite? no place can teach you this. but nostalgia tries and you give it a shot.
you’re free to ask more.
The sun did not shine for days.
There was, she believed, an
overpowering longing for light.