amirtamino

[amirtamino]

i cant reply to u on my post bc i’m shadowbanned but my post has reached its target audience aka i love your url

SDKJGDFLKGJDFLKGJDF its noor :*

[amirtamino]

green grass grows

i am full of an odd regret

as though all the decisions i have made are in stone

like the sword in childhood stories

my movements are stuck in time with no hero in sight to release

it’s kind of a homesickness

that same deep feeling

some conjured pit

absorbing memories and channeling them right back

in a shade of blue melancholy

the word that’s always reminded me of cough drops

and hard candies

and what is it that i am missing? what is this longing?

a norm? my past? that twisted sense of loss only after loss?

because, of course, your grass is never green enough

especially after a slip

or a confrontation

the following of hidden role models

endless blame with no source

and so i always want to cry

and so i always feel hot with incompetence

i cannot trust my future self — or so I feel —

to carry on my past self’s desires

which is quite alright, until the newer future self catches up

with its original plan. i never know what i want

never fully anyways

i’m always hungry for something

but i try and quench the growl with gratitude

that’s what my mother told me

but I don’t wish for that lifestyle

at least not in full

i find it rather robotic

and now we’re back to the melancholy

the caramels in golden wrapping

in my grandmother's crystal bowl

how classic

above my grandfather's collection of historic literature

whose contents can be devoured no longer by his eyes, words too small

my grandmother’s hands don’t work

so now the oven is used to store bowls instead of bake garlic naan

i know such sweet creatures are a mirror into an ultimate future form of myself

and it won’t matter which second i did or said what

and periods of longing and grief will seem like specks

reflections in my rearview mirror already light-years away

the guilt only follows such realizations

and now my stomach is eating itself

or perhaps i merely feel my stomach in my throat

regardless i am uncomfortable

in search of direction

or at least a feeling of “okay, i am okay”

[amirtamino]

philtctos ⤖ amirtamino

prompted by a 1 am identity crisis while listening to cigar one too many times. . . 

i also redid my desktop theme so please check that out sfdgfdh

[amirtamino]

ily imy

I LOVE YOU TOO BABE IM GONNA TEXT YOU <3

[amirtamino]

[amirtamino]

And the world is:

laid out across your feet,

there for the taking,

yours to wander,

too big for one person.

Do you feel small yet?

My years with you have been:

alright,

painful at times,

worth all of it.

Do you feel young yet?

Time will tick by for me:

so, so slowly,

much too fast.

Do you feel old yet?

We will go on:

together.

Did you ever think I doubted that?

The clock will move

seconds,

minutes,

hours,

days,

weeks,

months,

years.

But there will always be you and me.

- to eighteen more years // happy birthday, @philtctos

[amirtamino]

[amirtamino]

maqical ➳ philtctos

i was bored and sleep deprived and thinking too much about the song of achilles again so here we are i guess!!

[amirtamino]

a reminder that i love you ❤

i love you too <3 

[amirtamino]

upon looking back;

there’s that expression on your face today that i don’t think i’ve seen in months. a half-smile, but it’s genuine, it meets your eyes rather than straining your lips, just slightly off as it tends to be when you look at me now.

and i can’t help but ask the universe to take me back to when that real smile was the only one i saw.

take me back to when we were lying on the floor of your bedroom, hiding from our parents while we snapped polaroids in the fading sunlight.

take me back to when things were easy, when i could say we were best friends and the words meant something other than a past that’s quickly fading.

take me back to those moments where i didn’t have to question everything i did, where i didn’t stop doing because i was afraid of failing,

take me back to the park bench at just before midnight, to the moonlit conversations where i finally felt like myself.

(but i am told again and again that to dwell in the past will do me no good).

so fine, i say,

take me forward to the future i’ve spent my whole life chasing,

take me forward to the person i want to be

(just take me somewheretime, because i simply cannot stand the now)

[amirtamino]

escapism (or, an unsent letter to my little sister)

there is a packed duffel bag under my bed and extra gas money tucked in between two pages of the car manual. i cannot count the times in the past week that i’ve felt tempted to use it, that i’ve queued a 10 hour playlist titled “run away with me” and hovered outside your bedroom door at just past midnight, hand poised on the handle. 

“we’re leaving,” i said three weeks ago, and speeding down the freeway with the windows down, i’d meant it. the urge to drive away and never look back was something all-consuming, at least until the moment i looked towards the passenger seat, saw your eyes glittering with tears, and heard you whisper, so soft it almost wasn’t there, “i want to go home.” 

and i pulled into the grocery store parking lot so i could take a moment to breathe, to reach over and wipe your tears away and blink back my own. i did not speak. i had no reply until you posed a question. 

“where is home?”

and my god, i wish i could tell you. i wish i knew. sometimes i feel it—half-asleep on my boyfriend’s shoulder behind the field at the hoco game, laughing along to something my best friend has said over a tray of shared french fries at lunch, those dark quiet drives home from swim practice where you and i finally feel some semblance of peace—but those things are fleeting.

where is home?

i know where it is not—it’s not the house where we’ve grown up, not the sleepless nights where i lie awake paranoid of what might happen next. it’s not the ten times a day we text each other to make sure we’re okay, it’s not my meticulous planning to ensure you’re never there alone. 

“where is home?”

“with me. always,” i finally reply. 

and then i let you doze off in the passenger seat, cover you with a blanket that’s kept stored in the trunk. i press a kiss to your forehead and start driving again but somewhere along the line the fantasies have worn off and i end up back where i started.

“where is home?”

you know. i will do anything to make sure you always know.

“where is home?” i ask myself on one of those sleepless nights.

my only reply is silence. 

(the next morning i am starting the car. i am not queueing a playlist and i am not opening the glove compartment to check the manual, i am not.)

[amirtamino]

[amirtamino]

[amirtamino]

cant stop thinking abt ur cinema poem its uhh so beautiful ive reread it like 15 times and every time it hits me right in the chest anyway ur amazing thank u fr my life

hi what i love you thank you??? wow??? 💕💕💕

[amirtamino]

love you noor!

love you more zee <3 <3 

[amirtamino]

a wee reminder that i love you - try to guess who i am

i love you and also idkkkk allie?? adam?? vic?? whoever u are just know you’re a lovely person and u made my whole day

[amirtamino]