let it happen

feeling very reflective here in nyc listening to the rain trickle down the window and playing sad songs. starting to realise that 2018 was a year where I avoided taking chances and stuck very much in a safety bubble, and 2019 I became someone that began to take chances, especially with my career path. here’s to 2020 being a year where I can be myself and take all the risks I need in order to grow into a better person. to become someone that I can be proud of at the end of the year.

I wanna burry my face in someone’s chest right now til I fall asleep and wake up 4 hours later just to find I’m still in their arms

me*suddenly is very very sad* me: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part of your twenties is shedding the idea of grandeur that your life would have and just savouring the simple joys of being

how am i stressing and not giving a shit at the same time

i PERSONALLY would like to FALL IN LOVE please!!!!!! and have the SAME PERSON fall in love with me BACK!!!!!!! could i get some MUTUAL AFFECTION out here!!!!!!!!!!

me @ myself: why is she doing this to herself

finding somebody that pushes you to be better >

this isn’t all that there is!!! there are sunsets you haven’t seen, people you haven’t met, things you haven’t learned, food you haven’t tried, and places you haven’t visited. life is so much more than what you’re experiencing right now, and there will always be new things coming. there’s so much more out there for you!!

looking back on old photos of yourself is an act of mourning, always. how many times have you looked at pictures of yourself from even just a few months ago and thought “who is that? did i look like that? she’s beautiful” but fail to reconcile it with how you felt. that girl is me and that girl is beautiful but i have never been her, y’know? and the cycle is endless. i am always longing to be myself from two years ago, or six months ago, or last night. SHE was beautiful in ways i don’t know how to be now. i’m grieving for the death of my past selves, constantly, and grieving for the time they wasted mourning THEIR predecessors when they could’ve been feeling beautiful. in between disparaging remarks about the weight she holds around her midsection, my mother shows me photos from when she was younger and handles them gently; “i was kind of a looker back then, wasn’t i?” i wonder what i’ll be saying about this body in thirty years. i wonder if it’ll be kind