#odd words

it’d be quicker and sounds a lot better than simply ‘the day after tomorrow’ I think. 

Plus, you’d get to sound all whimsical n shit too, overall it’s a funni lil cool word.

(Idk how I’d actually include it into regular speech, but it still sounds neat)

pinterest is where hello kitty seb first popped into my head … please share ur board with me if u feel comfy…..

Gemini: Kairosclerosis. The moment you realize that you’re currently happy — consciously trying to savour the feeling —which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an after-taste.

Whelve — to bury something deep, to hide

“Hey Hop.”

Mike frowns at the modest stone monument in front of him, eyes scanning the engravings on the surface of the gravemarker. A name he’ll stumble over saying for months because it brings a lump to his throat. A birth year, not as far back as he’d once thought it would be; a death year, one that he’d never imagined looking at before. 

It’s taken him months to get here for the first time since the funeral and Mike isn’t sure what to do, what to say. Teeth clenched, his arms feel heavy and awkward at his sides. Should he have brought flowers? He bends low, balancing on the balls of his feet and resting his clammy hands on his knees, trying to steady himself and resisting the urge to reach out and touch the cool face of the stone, knowing the rough feel of the surface on his fingertips will make everything so much more real.

Mike opens his mouth, but there are no words. Only the uncertain sigh of a teenage boy and the early autumn wind that whistles as it nips at the back of his neck. 

Does he apologize? He’s laid awake for nights on end, his mind running through a catalogue of all the awful words he once said (or thought) about Hopper until the guilt exhausts him into fitful sleep. 

Does he tell him that El’s gone now, five hours away, so he doesn’t have to worry about them spending too much time together? Maybe it would be better to say that even though El’s so far away, he promises to still love her and make her feel safe. He knows—now and with a hint of resentment that makes him feel terrible in its lingering—that Hopper wanted the same thing.

So maybe he should tell Hopper that he gets it now—that he finally understands even though it’s too late—why they argued? He could mention that it was Max, and a long milkshake-fuelled, apology-filled conversation that made him realize just how many directions El could be pulled in without anyone realizing it. 

Somewhere over his shoulder, Mike’s walkie buzzes from his backpack, tossed carelessly next to his bike.

“Mike? Are you there?”

Glancing once more at the tombstone, at the Loving Father and Beloved Chief etching that tries (and, Mike thinks quietly, kind of fails) to encompass a complicated man, he stands.

The walkie buzzes again. “Mike?”

Mike allows himself to linger a moment longer. His mouth opens again, but he still can’t find the right words so he swallows the incomplete thoughts that swirl on his tongue and tucks them away somewhere deep inside until he can finish them.

Pana Po’o: Hawaiian