apricotbruise

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i think i'd rather only write in my physical journal from now on and keep my own thoughts and feelings private since i've shared just about all there is to share here. there's really nothing else to share, from my life or my mind. i wish you all the truest form of happiness. mainly, that your choices are ones in which you make from honoring and following your own heart, making your most fondest wishes come true for yourself. fare well!

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taken from insta stories-

had an ideal productive day. i did quite a bit of spring cleaning and rearranging in my apartment, which felt very accomplishing and overall, good. took my self out and ran some errands; stopped by my favorite florist and the market. a fine saturday, indeed

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“Aside from myself, there was no sign of me.” ― Nicole Krauss

1.Rumi | 2.Holly Warburton | 3.Maggie Stiefvater | 4.Fyodor Dostoyevsky | 5.Nickie Zimov | 6.Clarice Lispector | 7.Nigel Van Wieck | 8.Georgia O’Keeffe | 9.Andrew Wyeth | 10.Mary Oliver | 11.Ilenia Tesoro | 12.Sylvia Plath | 13.Walt Whitman | 14.Nickie Zimov | 15.Jean-Paul Sartre | 16.Lydia Roberts | 17.Natalie Wee | 18.Lew Thomas | 19.Albert Camus

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― Vladimir Nabokov, Letters to Véra

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“Let Them Sleep" “Those who don’t feel this Love pulling them like a river, those who don’t drink dawn like a cup of spring water or take in sunset like supper, those who don’t want to change, let them sleep. This Love is beyond the study of theology, that old trickery and hypocrisy. If you want to improve your mind that way, sleep on. I’ve given up on my brain. I’ve torn the cloth to shreds and thrown it away. If you’re not completely naked, wrap your beautiful robe of words around you, and sleep.”

— Rumi

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Natalie Diaz, from The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones — : These Hands If Not Gods 

[Text ID: “Those lovers are mostly gone. My hands remain–: like altars.”]

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when i'm torn away from my self and i feel numb from emptiness, all i feel is that i am betraying my self, like self abandonment. i carry my self back to me. i will feel these heavy feelings and thoughts for an instant, let it show me whatever it is attempting to show me; let it uncover my needs and then i release it. i tell my self that i have nothing to prove, to my own self or to anyone else. i give many self validating reminders and it helps me see the goodness in my self and others all over again. all i can be is true to my self in these moments. i always return

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Hi :) just wanted to stop by your blog and wish you a great start to your spring. And to say that I hope things are going well.

thank you 😌 spring is always a delightful season for me. i suppose life is, yes! i received some pleasing news this past week, so i'm definitely happy about that. likewise to you 🤍

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Chantal Elisabeth Ariëns

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he's dream-able, intelligent, comical, and very evident

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A Cold Afternoon During God's Funeral

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listening to ruelle like the entity that i am and doing some writing by candlelight. i began to add more songs to a wedding playlist that i made some time ago, which is odd but only because i don't think about marriage often

since i have shared that, i will also share that i have always been indifferent to the idea of getting married, although i have always wanted to. i'm not attached to the idea of someone being that close to me or that they would want to marry me, i suppose i should say instead. in my mind, i picture my wedding time to be a life changing time. i have already agreed with myself that if i ever did get married, my partner and i would equally get to have parts of ourselves both honored. secret gifts would be given, vows would be written and said aloud, songs that we both love would be played, and of course- the parts of us that are shared, we would also honor and make known. we would both choose how we wanted the ceremony to go; i imagine that the partner that would choose to marry me would have fun planning the wedding with me because it would had been something they were also happy about. i've always imagined that it would be in the autumn, the evening time. i have very specific ideas and i have a book where i have written these things down. i imagine it would be a very emotional time, one that would never be forgotten and one that i would always want to continue living for. but, as i've said, i don't imagine that the time would ever come. it's just something to ponder about when the mood is deemed fitting

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Amore e Psiche by Giovanni Maria Benzoni (1845)

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How much would you pay to be touched in the right way? Who would you think of with your hands on some bed like an animal and haven’t we all been here, walking through the world waiting for someone to free us or tie us to ourselves. People are dying, yes despite all our knowledge. Regardless of touch, what we own, everything we continue to steal. Everyone and their miniature triumphs. No, they can’t convince me love isn’t our best invention. And why I went into the ice to swallow more than my body had room for. Even afraid I opened my mouth and I swallowed. I took it all down. I was made by the cold.

— Alex Dimitrov, from “February,” in Love and Other Poems

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a real, healthy relationship entails honesty, transparency, thorough consideration, and actual communication. those are the only forms of connections that i am interested in having. if that is not what you are pursuing or are capable of delivering or receiving, then we will not be having that conversation, publicly or privately. i will not be believing that we are anticipating anything else. free will is a concept that i have spoken about and written about a lot in the past. i like to give utter free will, so that a person could have a chance to be able to choose whatever it is they are choosing whenever they are interacting with me, in any way. i would rather someone get to choose to be their highest form of self and extend that to me honestly. i offer support and friendship to those who know me and vise versa, but i won't pretend to not see the flaws that make the entire foundation of a connection crack. i simply cannot choose complacency over living up to my highest, purest, and truest form of self. any perceptions that may be had, opinions, or projections do not alter my reality. that seems to be the toughest pill that could ever be swallowed by anyone who chooses to interact with me- and if it's not completely direct, then in my eyes, it's not an interaction

one of the most substantial morals that i have always chose to stand and live by, and one that has touched my life deeply, is that if you treat yourself with forgiveness, kindness, grace, love, hopefulness, steadiness- actions and thoughts that generate self-growth, then it is fairest and deemed fully learned if extended to others. otherwise, it is a toxic dwelling. i don't live for those environments and i won't dwell at all; i won't allow myself to go there with anyone, because i want the best for others. i don't want to encourage anyone to be at their lowest and i'd rather be friends from a safe distance. however, given the opportunity to form a strong, emotional connection with someone, based on consistent work from both ends, where we are fully able to hold each other accountable- then my best will be put forward and given. i do believe that healthy love exists. i will never settle in any relationship but especially a romantic relationship, unless that is what i have. i am okay with being completely alone for this reason, in any sense, and i don't care to seek outside validation from others. i expect to be respected but otherwise, i fully have already attained self validation within myself. it is easy to let go of a loss once you've reached this state of being. i can't play sad over something that never lived. it's the reality that i have accepted and made peace with immediately once that level of closeness was never present. i instead choose to sit with myself and reflect on my feelings, holding them and letting them take up their space because otherwise i would be denying them, which only leads to an unhappiness. only then have i ever felt truly happy, by fulfilling my most precious wishes and desires within myself, by myself, for myself and honoring my emotions. i have never reached a full level of safeness with anyone. i have never met anyone that was fully willing to sit with me in all of my honesty. when i think about that, it does make me feel emotions that i have dealt with time and time again. it's nothing that tears me away from myself and makes me not want to choose self growth, because i am able to accept and live out the truths myself. one day, i know i will experience what i am searching for and it will feel ecstatic. even more importantly, the realness will not be questioned. until then, i will always have myself to care for and give my love to, and i am happy with that

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“hope” is the thing with feathers -

that perches in the soul -

and sings the tune without the words -

and never stops - at all -

and sweetest - in the gale - is heard -

and sore must be the storm -

that could abash the little bird

that kept so many warm -

i’ve heard it in the chillest land -

and on the strangest sea -

yet - never - in extremity,

it asked a crumb - of me

written by emily dickinson

grief is a thing with fangs

grief is a thing with fangs and it longs to be accepted. i resist it for days before i understand why it stays at my window, begging to be let in. it asks me to put it to bed every night like it is a child, to feed it with my love. it wants a mother so much, because who else could love this painful monster. who else would kiss its poisonous forehead, its razor sharp hands. who else would risk the bleeding. so i do the needful. i give it the nurture it begs for. i nourish it, trusting that like any good monster, one day it has fed enough it may leave. i build it a room in my heart and learn how to live with it. everything feels like a wound between these four small walls but there is nowhere else i will heal written by nikita gill, inspired by hope is the thing with feathers by emily dickinson

i felt a funeral, in my brain,

and mourners to and fro

kept treading - treading - till it seemed

that sense was breaking through -

and when they all were seated,

a service, like a drum -

kept beating - beating - till I thought

my mind was going numb -

and then i heard them lift a box

and creak across my soul

with those same boots of lead, again,

then space - began to toll,

as all the heavens were a bell,

and being, but an ear,

and i, and silence, some strange race,

wrecked, solitary, here -

and then a plank in reason, broke,

and i dropped down, and down -

and hit a world, at every plunge,

and finished knowing - then -

written by emily dickinson

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creating something with dried flowers for someone special and dear to me 🤍