Westley

Hello, everyone. I apologize for the lack of posts today, I’ve been asleep all day and that isn’t an exaggeration. But anyways, I’m going back to bed for the fourth time today. I think I may be coming down with some sort of illness. Either way, if you’d like to add my discord or send me a DM/Ask, I wouldn’t mind having some people to chat with. My discord is @/possiblepast. I’ll see any messages or asks when I’m awake. Goodnight everyone, I hope you all had/have a good night.

I’ve always wondered how animals remember people. Like a crow recognizes a face, a cat remembers a voice, a dog remembers someone after years apart. There’s something I find strangely flattering about that. Being remembered by a creature that owes you nothing, there’s no social obligation or politeness of expectation. Somehow that feels more honest.

I don’t think people miss each other in the way they claim to, at least not entirely. Often what they’re missing are patterns, the expectation that someone will be there. A chair that remains empty, a conversation that doesn’t happen, a message that never arrives. People become woven into our daily lives in ways we rarely notice until they’re absent. Absence is rather good at revealing what presence concealed.

I think people keep journals for the same reason historians preserve records, everyone wants proof they were here. Not necessarily for other people, sometimes for themselves. Memory is unreliable, days blur together, years disappear surprisingly quick. A journal is a way of resisting that, a small declaration that a particular moment existed, that a particular thought occurred, that a particular person looked at the world and felt compelled to write something down about it. I’ve always found that rather endearing.

It rained for most of the afternoon today. I spent an embarrassing amount of time watching droplets race each other down a window, one of them won. I have no idea what it won but I was happy for it regardless. There is probably a lesson somewhere in the fact that I can spend fifteen minutes observing rain and still be entertained. Though I’m not entirely sure what it is.

I’m going to post my drafts. I realized I have about four that I forgot to upload, haha. So sorry for the small spam.

Sometimes I think I’m over it, that everything that happened didn’t effect me, that the possibility of me ever feeling an once of emotion directed towards you would be impossible. Yet, today, the mere mention of your name sent me into a horrible spiral and I wanted to snuff the life out of me. For a solid moment, I decided I couldn’t live with this, and I was certain I had to die. You ruined me, and I suppose I’m not over it.

A bird landed on my windowsill this morning and spent several minutes staring directly into my room, it didn’t peck at the glass, it wasn’t looking for food, it was just staring. I have no explanation for this. Perhaps I offended it somehow, maybe it was conducting research (on what, I’m not sure). Either way, I appreciated the visit. I think people underestimate how pleasant it is to share space with another living thing without any expectations attached to the interaction. The bird wanted nothing from me and I wanted nothing from it. We simply existed in the same place for a while. There should probably be a word for that.

Goodmorning, everyone. I just woke up, I had about four nightmares and one wet dream. All in a row. I woke up sweating and my underwear are ruined. And on top of that it’s storming outside, the thunder keeps shaking my house, and I’m afraid I won’t have power. What a horrible way to wake up, huh? I hope all of your day/nights are going far better than mine. Have a good one, everyone.

I’ve always thought it was interesting how people talk about loneliness as though it’s caused by a lack of company, sometimes that’s true but not always. I’ve met people with enormous social circles who seemed perpetually isolated and I’ve met people with only one or two close relationships who appeared perfectly content. Which suggests that loneliness isn’t simply the absence of people, It’s the absence of something else, I’m not entirely sure what. Understanding, perhaps? Recognition? A sense that another person can see you clearly and remain? Though I wonder how often that actually happens. People spend years together and still discover things they never knew. There’s entire relationships built on carefully edited versions of ourselves. Maybe that’s normal. Maybe complete understanding isn’t possible. If that’s the case, then I’ve never quite understood what people mean when they say they feel close to someone. I’ve always wanted to ask. What exactly are they feeling? What changes? At what point does another person stop being separate? Most people seem to know the answer instinctively. I’ve never been certain that I do. I’ve never been certain I’ve ever been truely “close” to someone.

Hello, Tumblr. Today was okay for me, I spent the day in bed, I stepped outside for a moment though. I saw a bunny rabbit on the yard, it hid under the car. I also cooked myself a dish. And I spent a lot of time studying and writing. Mundane. But I think mundane days make the good days all the better, so I’m not upset about a boring day. How was everyone else’s day? Feel free to tell me what you did and how your day went in my asks or DM’s, or simply just talk at me. Goodnight, everyone. Get some rest or have a good day if it’s morning for you. I’ll see any interactions when I’m awake.

One thing I love about history is realizing that every generation thought they were living in ordinary times. The people who wrote letters in the 1500s weren’t expecting to end up in history books and museums, they were writing to friends, complaining about the weather, talking about people they missed, worrying about things that probably seemed enormous at the time. I find that comforting. Sometimes the past feels impossibly distant until you remember that people have always loved their pets, missed their friends, and stayed awake thinking about things they couldn’t control. In that sense, we’re not very different at all.