melancholy

Ever since on its pilot, I have been dreading to find out whatever happened to George Sr on Young Sheldon. But seasons have passed and I have been fond of this father-figure. This episode has been difficult for me, seeing Sheldon being existential (kinda reminded me of him on TBBT with bongos, S5 Ep18 , except without the whimsical music on midnight, knocking on Amy's door, who thought it was some kind of musical booty call— I'm sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself) and George Sr. admitting he was not happy anywhere.

My heart aches for him... This screengrab of him with this look on his face holding a cup of alcohol drink was too much for me. I love Sheldon and his story growing up, but I don't know if I can handle seeing George Sr's downfall.

SOMEONE PLEASE HOLD ME!!! OR MAYBE HIM!!!!! (lowkey knew that either one of us can be saved)

“there'll be happiness after you

but there was happiness because of you

both of these things can be true”

just recently broke up with someone,

all i have to do is hope,

maybe we can still be friends,

maybe if time and perfect circumstances arise...

we’ll find each other, again.

The Boys in the Band (2020)

You are undeniably beautiful without knowing it. Will you not deprive the world with the magic of your smile? Will you not defy the music of your laughter? 

Will you not turn down the universe seeking one of its marvels-- your happiness?

Run wild, my dear. Break free and take flight. 

It feels good making someone smile even you were not there to see it.

It feels good knowing someone in the world is less sad.

It feels good to be appreciated.

It feels good to give out happiness even though I am a very unhappy person myself.

I got to perform a piece of my own to a legitimate audience-- in a church. Damn it! I AM A SAINT! 

I did it for my friend. But it felt weird that after my performance, everyone was lost with words, left with only the title of my poem. It felt weird when most of my friend’s church mates thanked me and told me flattery things of how I almost made them cry or how I reminded them their youth. I laughed inside.

I wanted to scream that the piece I performed to them was the only happy poem that I’ve got. It was the only poem they could bear to hear because how could they tolerate my truths about depression, my traumas, my thoughts, myself? How could I speak out words that are against their beliefs? 

If wanting to see you in tears is a sin, then let it be. 

So forgive me for I want you to cry a river of bliss, of joy, of happiness.

I want you to scream as you laugh of how ridiculous it is that watery works refuse to stop.

I want you to let out such sweet tears and embrace me in  your arms as if it were my home.