On Spotify: "tonight's daylist is comforting poetry night because you listen to calm classical, light academia, sad girl crying, and situationship."
I want this post to capture the tenderness I've felt watching the screen adaptation of Normal People but the images I grabbed would surely not be enough. Tender as comfort, also as it is synonymous to being pain. It was honestly a difficult watch as it involves a lot of scenes that I found not beneficial for the plot but Marianne's depiction of cold detachment and numbness as well as Connell's raw desperation and sadness left something in me — an ache, perhaps, that I've been ignoring or that I have learned to ignore given the better circumstances I am in. There was a time when I felt entirely unseen, unappreciated, and unloved. There was a time when I thought the treatment was okay; that it was deserved. When you are comfortable with uncertainty, you will grow ascertain with it and just be resigned to it. It was a comfort knowing what to expect and it was comforting knowing that I know my place. The 12 episodes (watched in a span of 3 months, at that) surfaced memories that I have forgiven myself of but not forgotten. I have yet to read the book, anyway.
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vaporwave
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
