nostalgicjoy

[nostalgicjoy]

Dear September,

Today I let go of all the layers of skin wedged in between my molar teeth, and I think I’ve finally won the wars between me and my past selves. I don’t exactly have the language to describe this loss, but it feels a bit like hypothermia but less icy and more warm. I’m no longer a fragile being. At least, not in the way they want me to be. I want to carve up the world and save more spaces for all the love I’ve been putting in the backseat. And now I’m glowing crimson. All blush and apple-red from people who leave touches of light on my nape and palms. If there is one thing I have learned from all of this, it is this - you can make room for anything. Build a house out of nothing but rib bones and dirt, until finally there is a heart and a hunter green yard. Tell me, what is a home anyway without some flesh wounds? Today I woke up with my seams unraveled and all that scarred epidermis peeled off, and just light pouring out and out. Glowing and glow-

[nostalgicjoy]

I am good. I am loved.

[nostalgicjoy]

schuylerpeck / instagram: hiitssky / facebook

[nostalgicjoy]

“Where is your safe haven? If you were to pick a memory to forget, what would it be? Why? Does running from commitments count as exercise? If you could go anywhere right now, would you come up with a place or a name? How often do you read a text and purposefully wait hours to respond back? Who would be your first call after an accident? If I say love, do you see a face first or feel the emotion? Do you check your phone often when you’re out with friends? Do you have a good poker face? Who was your first kiss? Is that person still in your life? Do you take some time to check in on your closest friends every now and then? Do you believe in love at first sight? If not, who ruined it for you? How early do you put up Christmas lights? If something makes you laugh loudly, do you cover your mouth or try to muffle it in any way? If so, why? Do you ever count yourself as your own best friend? If someday is now, are you living the way you want to live? If money is not a problem, what would you be doing with your life right now? Where do you keep your secrets? Who knows them all? Are you more of a morning person or a night owl? Have you ever hold onto something an ex gave you? Would you want the ability to replay your dreams? When you talk about a past love, does your voice shake? Do you pause too? Where on your body do you feel anger? What about sadness? Do you wear your heart on your sleeve? Would you be comfortable to? What is your favorite color? What would that say about you? Does forgetting count as starting over?”

— (NJ.) // who are you? part 3

[nostalgicjoy]

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.

— Oscar Wilde.

[nostalgicjoy]

“Where is your heart? How long has it been there? If you could fill in the cracks, would you? What would you fill them with? If we all have skeletons in our closets, what kinds are in yours? Do you ever open your closet? What keeps you soft? Where is your gentle? If our dreams are just things that our subconscious is telling us, what is yours saying? Are you listening to it? Would you go back to the past and change it if you had the chance and ability to? Why? Does forgetting count as moving on? Do you listen or do you just hear? Where is your soft landing? What’s the nearest object to you? What is its significance? If your home burns down, what would you grab first? Who would you take to your last dance on earth? Who is your greatest what if? If love is a feeling, how does it feel for you? If love is a choice, what do you do with that? Sunset or sunrise? How would you describe your life in colors? What do those say about you? Where does love go when the person is no longer there? Where is yours? Would you take it back? When you look up at the stars during a clear night sky, do you feel small? Do you ever hope that someone is looking up at the same time as you? Does that someone have a name? Where do you keep your promises? Where are you now? Where are you heading to?”

— (NJ.) // who are you? part 4

[nostalgicjoy]

February,

Today you brought more sun than January did in her 31-day stay in my home. I looked up and basked in your warm light. Wore it around my neck. Tuck it in my back pocket. I’ve been waiting to come alive and feel awake. Look for water in the trees. Yearn for air from people’s mouths. Search for heart in the night sky. The days have been lonely, dear February. Lonely in the way the stars hide in the mornings. In the way my ghosts retreat into closets when someone knocks on my door. Lonely in the way I’m stretched and shaped to fit the outline of what happy is supposed to look like. The days have been tiring, dear February. But at least today you gave me a glimmer of hope.

[nostalgicjoy]

Mikki Brammer, The Collected Regrets of Clover

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Mary Oliver, from "Of Love", Red Bird

[nostalgicjoy]

January is starved. Half empty bottles of vodka left on the kitchen counter. Sunken eyes and bony wrists. January is tense. Shoulders folding inward like fragile paper airplanes. Clenched jaw and grinding teeth. Racing heart with nowhere to go. Light has no room here. January is a bruised apple. Decaying and wasted. January asks for rain and gets no response from anyone. January is quiet. January is longing. January is light-starved. January doesn’t know how to exist in the quiet. January is sensitive. A car wreck of a mind. January feels too much and doesn’t feel enough depending on the time. Or the weather. Or the conjured-up ghosts in its head. January is lost in the dark but doesn’t look for light.

January is half of a skeleton.

January is just a skeleton.

[nostalgicjoy]

from my book muscle memory

[nostalgicjoy]

I created this little space back in 2013 for anyone who wanted to leave a letter behind. I didn’t think much was going to happen with it but it grew into something both beautiful and haunting. Sometimes I go back to it and re-read the notes people have written. Every once in a while, I happen to find a new one when I scroll far enough into this vast space.

Find an empty space and leave your feelings and thoughts behind here

Write a letter to someone

[nostalgicjoy]

Louise Glück, from “Stars”, Poems: 1962–2020

[nostalgicjoy]

dear past self,

Someday, you’re going to realize that not everything is linear. You can plan everything out in your head but life will always surprise you. I wish I can make you stop wishing for things you can’t control because time is fickle. At one point or another, you are going to be too late for that ride to somewhere brighter than here. You’re going to be lost somewhere in the overwhelming hours and days of the past, and you’re going to regret not doing enough for yourself. If today you are wide awake, don’t yearn for me. Don’t lose yourself trying to find me, circling around and around the silhouettes of faces you’ve discarded and faces you’ve hoped for. What I mean to say, my hands are not your hands, and I’m quite certain your lilac heart has a better chance blossoming into a bigger flowerbed for all the dreams and hopes we both have. That is to say, you have more rooms to grow and more spaces to fill with love and laughter and more days to arrive in places that matter. Someday, you’re going to open up and many things will pour in and maybe that scares you. And honestly, it should. But there will always be light. There will always be light.

[nostalgicjoy]

Life update :)

[nostalgicjoy]

{Quotes:Nitya prakash/Richard siken ,crush}

[nostalgicjoy]

It’s half quarter before midnight and the moon is half-asleep. Its quiet light tenderly splayed out in the darkest spots. Behind the tallest lamp and two inches above the headboard and on my chest and in between my fingers. The careful moonlight feels like a warm hug. A goodbye that oddly sounds like a hello too. I’ve forgotten how a spine can stretch comfortably when the night eases all the tension away. 28 feels a lot like sprawling out and unbending until pressure points are loosened and you’re completely exposed. I don’t hold onto a lot of people anymore. I still listen to the same old songs and watch the same shows, but I stopped waiting on things and people to catch up to me. I say “I love you” once but show it twice and more. I’m learning to just sit with the painful memories instead of recycling them into lessons. Same with people too. My heart is still soft, but I’m a far cry from 16 years old. My hands are still always searching for warm places to touch, but I’m remembering cold places are touch-starved too. I often miss summer when it’s cold and damp. And miss the chilly air when I’m baked under the Michigan heat. I think about how I used to miss parts of myself in the same way. Perpetually unsatisfied and mystified of what could be.

I spent the last year stretching out all my limbs and unfolding skin that remained hidden for so long. Light-starved and unseen. I want to remember not just the grandest experiences but also the quietest moments. I want to be felt and seen. My 20s have been a lot of drowning out all the noise to hear myself. My voice spreading farther and louder like the glistening sun rays of July. All my light reaching into places and people I’ve met and yet to meet. I want to grow warm, grow full. I want to tuck light and love in all the darkest spots. Inside a dresser and underneath the bed and on my nape and in all my bones.