i am a different person than who i was last year. my hair is longer and i cry less and i am stronger. i am a different person than who i was six months ago. i am free and different and am embracing change. i am a different person than who i was a month ago. i sit in the sunlight without worry and i don’t let things stick and i look up and smile. i am a different person than who i was last week. i explore more and look at the sky and laugh more. i am a different person than who i was yesterday. i let go and breathe. i am whole.
I love the night with passion. I love it the way you love your country, or your mistress, with an instinctive love, a deep love, an invincible love. I love it with all my senses, with my eyes that see it, with my nostrils that breathe it, with my ears that hear the silence of it, with my whole flesh, caressed by its shadows. Larks sing in the sun, in the blue air, the warm air, the light air of clear mornings.
Night: A Nightmare (1887) | Guy de Maupassant
this is how i think i wake up
(i woke up at 1:30 pm today)
flowers are my friends and they always understand me because we are the same.
me when I me when I am myself when i
strwbry-luv
dear diary,
i don’t want to be “beautiful” i want to be cocaine. once you get started on me you’ll never stop and you’ll keep on wanting more. the recovery process is the hardest part. harder to quit than to start. toxic but addicting; harmful but euphoric
-𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶༊*·˚
(june 26, 2023)