mikirakih

he is so kind. he holds my heart so gently. but his hands aren't the right size. his laugh doesn't sound right. his eyes are the wrong shade. he is so good, he is light, but I yearn for the moon. I yearn for something that passes me by quietly in the night. I yearn for you.

I’m so proud of her

an author i love just tweeted about how “big joy and small joy are the same” and how she was just as content the other night eating chocolate and cuddling her dog as she was on her Big Trip to new york and honestly. i think that’s it. this morning i was listening to an audiobook while baking shortbread in my joggers and i realised i really didn’t care what Big Things happened in my future as long as i could keep baking and reading at the weekend and maybe that is the kind of bar we have to set to guard ourselves against disappointment. just appreciate and cherish the mundane stuff and see everything else as a bonus.

found it - she was replying to this thread that starts “unpopular opinion: i don’t think your life has to have a purpose, or you a grand ambition; i think it’s okay to just wander through life finding interesting things until you die” and i for one think that’s fucking brilliant

pets sigh so dramatically for little creatures that have nothing to do all day

Lmao the bear is like “bitch”

#teambear

me at a gay club

i never wanted it to end

I’m so happy right now there is nothing wrong now

Honestly

I do think that love is very often about sacrifice. I mean sacrifice as in choosing, as in effort. I mean choosing as in the allocation of time, and energy, and the making of space and the setting aside of prejudices and the keeping of an open mind. I mean leaving the last half-slice of cake in the fridge; working late into Thursday evening to spend Friday evening together; picking them up at the train station even though they’ve long memorised the route to your flat. Even when it is a sacrifice happily made, a choice readily chosen, it is still the giving up of one life in favour of another. And I think it’s important to recognise that. I could be living a different life but I am choosing to live a life with you. It is a sacrifice. The stakes are that high. And I do it anyway. I do it because it’s you. I do it because I love you.

Worst thing ever in the whole world is when a thunderstorm is forecasted and then it doesn’t storm. literally so rude I was excited for this all day.

the soft love, where you put your hand on table corners so they won't get hurt, where you bring them coffee everytime you go over to meet them, where you pass by a florist and think of them because they love flowers, where do you find that kind of love?

I think franz kafka’s letter to his abusive father is one of the best early works of domestic violence literature and I wish we all talked about it more.

[“We were so different and in our difference so dangerous to each other that if anyone had tried to calculate in advance how I, the slowly developing child, and you, the full-grown man, would stand to each other, he could have assumed that you would simply trample me underfoot so that nothing was left of me. Well, that did not happen. Nothing alive can be calculated. But perhaps something worse happened. And in saying this I would all the time beg of you not to forget that I never, and not even for a single moment, believe any guilt to be on your side. The effect you had on me was the effect you could not help having. But you should stop considering it some particular malice on my part that I succumbed to that effect.”]

[“Hence the world was for me divided into three parts: one in which I, the slave, lived under laws that had been invented only for me and which I could, I did not know why, never completely comply with; then a second world, which was infinitely remote from mine, in which you lived, concerned with government, with the issuing of orders and with the annoyance about their not being obeyed; and finally a third world where everybody else lived happily and free from orders and from having to obey. I was continually in disgrace; either I obeyed your orders, and that was a disgrace, for they applied, after all, only to me; or I was defiant, and that was a disgrace too, for how could I presume to defy you; or I could not obey because I did not, for instance, have your strength, your appetite, your skill, although you expected it of me as a matter of course; this was the greatest disgrace of all.”]

in this terrifying world you continuously have the power to offer someone else a little relief . why would you withhold that. do you remember what a little relief feels like? it feels like a lot