sherlockig

Moodboard for @haeva

It's just like breathing

@sherlockig

7 months ago

jihaad

on a scale of “dapper” to “fuckboy” how would you rate your taste in gnc womens fashion

jihaad

jihaad

wait actually

fuckrealityihaveablog

the poison drips through

@jihaad

1 hour ago

writeouswriter

My followers: And is this “writing” you’ve been “working on” in the room with us right now?

Writeous Writing

@writeouswriter

1 hour ago

iamalinarose:

I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. I want to sleep in and catch the nearest flight to the Netherlands.

Facing this mountain of a book to edit and rewrite, these symptoms the doctors can’t figure out, trying to stay strong with my dad being sick, and now a creep hanging out at the mall catcalling me and my coworker.

I’m probably writing this as a coping mechanism so I can go to bed without such thoughts plaguing my mind. I think one of these days I’m going to break down.

These trials come, but they always seem to go. Even things I thought, and felt, could last forever, faded away. I’ll get through this. It’s just a latest rainy season I suppose.

Few things have remained the last year and a half. Friendships, bonds with family members, my mother’s love. The joy I have with my little dog Watson. My writing. The way the sun shines into my window onto the bookshelf in the evening. My favorite stories that are always amazing every time I reread them. Comfort movies I put on while studying. You. Our bond, tethered by pen pal messages and anonymous love letters, co-bloggers and writers. You’re out there, probably in school listening to some boring professor (trust me love, I’m sure you outshine them all), or in your apartment making earl grey tea. I think it’s breakfast time there, right?

I miss you. I just want to feel your embrace and my worries melt away into nothing. Some days more than others. Tonight is one of those.

I hear the coyotes now, howling and singing their songs in the distance beyond the hills. (Far beyond, don’t worry, they don’t come near houses) I hear crickets as well, and the tick of my clock which I’m pretty sure needs new batteries. It feels so still. Peaceful.

Show up in my dreams, pretty please?

(as a matter of habit, I almost clicked “ask anonymously”)

haeva

Oh how I’ve missed these poetic diary entries. I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. I hope he gets better and if he can’t then I hope he finds peace.

I can’t say I know exactly what you’re going through, no one in my family has ever been sick. But I do know the feeling of wanting to pack up and leave, even if it’s just for a little while.

I think about it when I feel like I have no one left in this place who cares for me. I think about it when I’m barely passing my classes and everyone else seems so much smarter than me. I think about it when I realise how my life didn’t go the way I planned. I screwed up and it makes me want to cry.

In those moments I imagine what places I would go. The US comes up a lot, New York, Los Angeles, there’s so many cities to visit. But whichever one I imagine, I always picture you there.

I have seen myself running into you at the mall. Or us meeting at some airport. I have even pictured you in Amsterdam and even though it’s not where I live, I’m there that day. But if you saw me, really saw me, would you still like me? Or would I be better off remaining a fantasy in your head? I can be perfect that way, while the reality is flawed.

Tell me, did I show up in your dreams after all? Because you have shown up in mine.