#wether or not to buy
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hi bestie I had to go fetch my wallet for this n couldn't find the card so I must have misplaced it :((((((((((( nooooo where is it :((((( but I'll find the PSD later, and since it's a pair card with another one I made which!! I did find, until then have the replacement Devil of Savings, much less hieffort edit but very potent.
#its him on both given at least half my impulse spendings pertain to his fursona's merch.#my bank doesnt do custom card images which makes me so sad cuz id so put that on it fr fr#itd be a deterent for id have to beat the stare contest first and i fear thats out of my ability as an eye avoider#the other tho was much more high effort so im hoping im judt stupid since its late as jell n cant see it in plain sight#like i worked so hard on it editing a girlies face onyo a painting n added some lil framing like those church things ya know#having two the goal was that in case of impulse spending hits in the wild i could pull them both out shuffle pick one n itd tell me#wether or not to buy
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Percy Weasley HC
After the war, Marcus insisted that Percy move into a relatively big house with him, Oliver, Audrey, and Penny. When I say big house, I usually imagine between orphange and Burrow (tbh the Burrow itself is kind of big) but a few extra rooms big. Due to Percy being a parental and/or sibling figure to a lot of people, it usually isn't just the five of them even if you ignore the existence of Percy's canon kids. Most of the time, other people are over, it's his neices and nephews due to him having favourite uncle status. However they have been times where it's been kids in Harry's or Ginny's year that looked up to Percy that have dropped by or one of his siblings' spouses have dropped by after an argument with his siblings.
#percy weasley#I'm not sure wether or not the house would have been property of the flint family or started out as abandoned#Flint's parents are only aware of Marcus and Percy living there and not th other three#i think Marcus would have only introduced Percy to his parents#partly out of fear that introducing one of the other three would have ended in at best disownment#i have just now realised how often I refer Penelope Clearwater as Penny#this started out as a simple headcanon of Marcus buys an abandoned orphange and decides to renovate and live in it after the war#now the other four beloveds have gotten involved as I grew Marcus's friendship with them in my head
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I need to stop being such a sucker for hats and hat chains.
#living near a hat store is not helping#I’ve spent two weeks telling myself not to give in and buy the black cloche#I’m about to cave#it’s so pretty#but I don’t need more hats#but I also don’t have a cloche#so I’m fighting myself on wether I buy it or not#my wallet says no#but … im a loser when it comes to hats#we shall see#sparky's brainrots
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The life crisis of SHEIN standing with palestine (good) but also doing child labor (bad)
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Today I bought something I needed instead of just whining that I dont have a decent waterproof coat please applause me
#and now i am forbidden from buying things for the rest of the week#(tbh ill be fine financhally and i wont starve at all im just trying to live less wasteful and spend less overall)#i need me that emergency fund. and also i need a new phone and thats gonna cost me liek £500 ish#not including the bills cause im still mulling over which provider to go with#yay adulting!!!!!!!#i just figured to get the coat first cause i do a lot a lot of walking#i need summer shoes too but im debating wether i wait until next year and just live with my shitty primark ones for a few months#i have docs for winter that I got 2 years ago and are still doin perfectly fine so :P
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phew! ok, that’s all the pens for tonight!! if i get any more reqs that i feel like i know exactly what to suggest i might answer more later!
also, im handing yall the keys to the city if u wanna assign pen blorbos yourselves. jetpens has it all and for the most part this whole time ive just been searching by colour so its preddy easy!! have fun blorboing your stationery!
#also generally have been filtering by price too#based on wether the character is fancy or not and also based on if the asker said they are actually looking to buy a pen or not#blorbo pen headcanons#autismposting
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My older sister decided to get rid of her remaining clothes from her goth phase, since it's been like 15 years since then and they no longer fit her anyway.
So... guess who's getting a bunch of fucking cool clothes!!!!
#the fact that my sister had vaguely the same style as me when she was my age/a bit younger thab me is insane to me#she legitimately send me a picture of a skirt yesterday and was like#you want that#and i was like#hell yeah i want it I've been debating wether or not to buy one of these for the past 6 months
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A volume of Coffee and Cat's Hideout (a complete story in one volume) and the 2 (and the last) volume of Solanin
The difference in sickness of two books is astonishing but both titles are to stay in the back of your mind forever
The Cat one is an episodic story in 14 short chapters
Solanin had two additional chapters in the end. The first is one-shot Haru yo Koi (Awaiting Spring) happening in the same location some time after Solanin. And the second one is a direct continuation/epilogue to Solanin set in our time.
Inside covers
(The cat one has a 4-koma about the mangaka and her experiences with cats both at home and in a cat cafe. They don't really like her despite her efforts and incorrectly use her bribes- gifts)
Dust jackets (with information about authors on sides)
#personal#manga#solanin#coffee to neko no kakurega#coffee and cat's hideout#nasha idea#укртумбочка#can't believe I was doubting wether to buy the cat one. It was so good
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...... i think if i had a disco oc theyd be a fortune teller who's actually a conman like. genuinely think that with the right skills you could have a great fortune teller conman for revachol
#my posts#and for organization#disco elysium#my ocs#i already have my beautiful girl ft#like she's sorta like that but not quite. she's less of a conman#but for de? an oc with high empathy. conceptualization. reaction speed. maybe suggestion maybe drama?#they will create a beautiful tale of what their client wants or needs to hear#wether it's the equivalent of tarot or palm readings or some sort of divination thing you can get on elysium..#.... they have a jar with pale water. they use it as a tool for scrying#..... i can't sleep so instead this happened help is 5 am#.... but i just like conman characters who like. want money. but also relatively mean well. but not always#'oh no i see a hard time ahead of you. but worry not! for if you buy this bracelet it will help keep that's bad luck surrounding you away!'#and similar.. they would..#also i guess they'd need a decent terrific still level too in case someone doesn't believe them. maybe#still a bit unsure of I'm doing the skills right lmao#gonna go back into trying to sleep now that I'm not worried about fully forgetting about this
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the endless lists of things i need to do this year and on top of that going out of work for like two months this year, paying off my debts from tuition (it will be about 4K because 7.1% is brutal), buying gifts to people, keeping myself afloat, pass my assessments/exams, pass my two months placement, set aside a thousand each paycheck, contribute to an endless construction of whatever house stuff my entire family decides to build, fund my cravings, daily allowance if i am generous to myself, give mama some money, keep my relationship with people that’s hardly working because i just don’t have the time and energy to respond, and whatever else that i can hardly keep up with just thinking about it stresses me out. i need to work a full 72 hours before next placement every fortnight if i intend on surviving
#maybe i should look for jobs in the hospital now#it’s been months since i become a nurse#i doubt my references even remembers me at this point#or i can just stay in my job that’s stable right now and find a different job next year#oh have i mention i need to pay my insurance cover#because bestie is working and needs a safety net especially dealing with people#bruh#why am i not born in a family with generational wealth#also have i told you about how i complained to my mum of wether i can ever buy my own house because everything is getting expensive and she#was like just find a sugar daddy#my life is about to become an endless fanfic plot#should i start selling my feet#fuckin adulting#ugh#also i have the holidays to look forward to this year#after that on next year#what am i going to look forward to ???#how will i be surviving then ???#the only reasons or like one of the reasons i am barely getting through this year is because i have the holiday planned#ticket booked and my house getting prepared#also just fuckin hoping that my next placement comes earlier otherwise idk what i’d do with myself#that would be another set of paperworks and lialising with a fuck ton of people to just have my placement a bit earlier#in my own opinion#a headache i’d rather not have#if i do not buy or do those things i listed above#what am i going to wear#also i just want to bring mama’s sister at home too#just because shes getting older and it would be a good opportunity to bring the entire family together in one place
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I’M NOT SEEING MY AUNT ON CHRISTMAS !!! 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌
#i was litterally loosing sleep over this bitch#she has covid and so is her son and she may have give it to my grandma before she tested positive#so does*#so they cancelled the day 😌#i mean I’m honestly really sad that I can see my grand mother cause I haven’t seen her in a year and half#exactly cause my aunt is always there and I fucking hate her#my dad said we are suppose to go on the first instead so I’m still not save for this goddamn meeting but at least I’m safe for another week😭#i wished my grandma was okay so we spent the day with her and not my aunt and I don’t have to see her again but yeah whatever I guess 😔#also my grandma already had covid once so I’m sure she’s gonna be okay I’m not so worried at least#i felt sick all week just to imagine myself there in the same room as her#her being all happy and act like she such a great person that never did anything wrong just cause my dad talk to her again#and my dad only talk to her cause their parents were sick most of this year and my grandpa sadly passed away#he would talk to her if it wasn’t the case#i was so mad the other day when my dad told me he buy her gifts for Christmas too cause she did so much for grandpa when he died#my dad did a lot too like maybe she helped but does he remember how disgusting she been all this year especially to me#at least my fave holiday is safe for now I don’t care about new year I’m already traumatized by the first and second of January cause of her#wether she’s there or not she already ruined for me 3 years ago#thé 31st is what is important to me cause I’m having fun with people that actually like me unlike her#I wish my dad and my grandma realized how she hurt me and how much seeing her again hurts me to the point I’m not even visiting my grandma#but they never will and will think I’m exaggerating….#I don’t get how Christmas always been my fave holiday and now I feel nothing so many people ruined it for me#I’m so goddamn sad#at least I’ll see my brother and we gonna have fun like the last 2 Christmas :(#and I’m seeing my fave family members on the 25th on my mom side well some of them#and I’m so damn sad I don’t see half of them but better than nothing I guess 🙃#last I’m sorry for not coming for days and get depress HFJDBDJD#i Needed to get this out of my chest and I’m tired to talk about that to my bestie she heard it enough :’)))#alex.txt#tw death mention
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ughhhh cannot decide if I want to spend my money on these pair of Reeboks or not
#here’s the situation: I need white sneakers and I’m going to have to spend my money on a pair#the ones I specifically want are the Reeboks club c 85 BUT they don’t sell them here and buying online with shipping would be too expensive#so I’ve been on the hunt for other shoes that I can find here that are in that style and ofc there are some pumas and adidas ones and#i found one out of pumas that I don’t dislike and that are kind of in the same price range as the reeboks club c 85#*pair of pumas#the thing is I can’t decide wether to buy them or not because I don’t love them either?? like they are just fine#and like I was willing to spend that money on the reeboks bc I love them but I can’t decide if the pumas are worth it or not#and today I found a pair of reeboks that they do bring here and it’s the club c double revenge#specifically with aqua and pink details#and they are really cute but a little bit pricier#and they have a 20% discount until tomorrow which would leave them still pricier than the reeboks I originally wanted and the pumas#but like not THAT expensive#however I don’t know if I’ll buy them and still be left wanting the ogs reeboks and I definitely can’t afford to buy two pair of shoes#I’m so indecisive when it comes to spending my money
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a bit obsessed with the hello! goodsmile miku figure..
(figure in question btw)
she looks really really nice!! i adore the style its very cute. also only fifteen usd...hmmm
#im debating on wether or not a wanna buy it lol#absolutely incredible price for a very cute figure#i feel like im unqualified to have it though?? if that makes sense. like i dont listen to vocaloid frequently-#-so uhh. i think im the only person who has an issue like this because okay. its literally Hatsune Miku. what am i worried about.#i dont know man!!! i dont think these tags make much sense lol
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No it won't. This is the USA. Last time they boycotted an election we got Trump, but alas you all really want this country to be more disrespected then ever, and for everyone's info, the only margin you all have is Kamala Harris (love the idea she is the one manipulating Biden like guys he has a wife for that) and the Spanish Gal (she is in congress and is overall interesting worldview points) are funny as fuck. And Biden is 81 and Trump is 77 so heh. Just elect a dead guy or the one who has a worm in his head (frankly...Knowing this fuck ass country you might as well.)
Boycott doesn't work in the USA, Look at what happened to BLM.
The economy and shitty entrepreneur can be boycotted but you know what will happen if you just go :
"You know what I disapprove this whole gist I am not voting this election-" THAT'S HOW YOU GET TRUMP, IT'S LITTERALLY WHAT HAPPENED IN 2016 THE ONLY PEOPLE WHO VOTED FOR HIS FUCK ASS WERE PEOPLE THAT WERE LIKE :
"Oh wouldn't it be funny if we voted for the guy who was a TV reality star because WOmEn can't lead and oooooooh she going in them sheets with the Russian says the Orange Guy Epstein's best buddy looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooool" and "YES THAT MAN RIGHT HERE COMMITING MORE TAX FRAUDS WITH BUILDINGS EVERYWHERE IS WHAT TRULY REPRESENTS AMERICAAAAAAAAA MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN, WIFE LET'S GET THIS RED BASEBALL HATS-" oh and let's not forget our all time FAVORITE fuck of course
"I mean she problably cheated to get where she is so I am going to vote for the duck face guy who talks like a failed drag queen and just hope he doesn't fuck up too much..."
Now...Guess how it went. Remember his terms were 2016-2020
I need you to connect the two neurons you have available and ask yourself "What am I doing with my life ?"
Now that Eurovision is over, I want you all, especially the Americans, to take a good hard look at how the voting results turned out when people boycotted the event.
In the UK, the viewing figures were down about 2 million people compared to last year. Up to 2 million people made the conscious decision to not watch and not vote because of Israel's inclusion.
The final results of the public vote, Israel came in first place in the UK and got 12 points. Because the only people watching and voting were people who backed Israel or at least didn’t care one way or another.
This doesn't matter. It's a music contest. The boycott was still the right thing to do because it is just a show at the end of the day, and the viewing figures have more impact than the results.
But it is also a good object lesson to show you what happens if you boycott a vote over something that does matter. Choosing not to vote in, let's say, a presidential election will have similar results.
#usa#i can't#you all so fucking stupid#voting is the only real right that you actually have#fucking use it#i have been through 9 mental crisis#6 exams that will determine wether i have enough to buy groceries#IF i find a god damn job#and you absolute morons have still not understood the simple “VOTE” command#like why do you hate your own country to the point you wish people to almost die#the only way you could boycott the elections is doing a fucking riot like 2021 at the capital
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I LOVED YOU FIRST | FC43
an: guys i’m so sorry for the atrocities i’m about to cause by posting this, i’m especially tagging @obxstiles to make sure they don’t miss it and that they cry muahaha there MAY be a part two to this
summary: for as long as she’s remembered she’s loved franco, wether those feelings were ever reciprocated she doesn’t know.
wc: 4.4k
She remembered the sound of wheels against gravel. Even as a kid, Franco was fast—kicking up dust and stones as he went, all edges and adrenaline. They grew up on the same street, a road that was more dust than pavement, cutting through a small town nobody had ever heard of, deep in the countryside of Argentina. Back then, he raced down that road on a beat-up go-kart that rattled and threatened to fall apart with every turn. But he didn’t care. Even at eight years old, Franco could talk of nothing but cars and speed and the shimmering, impossible promise of a life far from here.
She was the one who stood at the end of the road, cheering him on as he came barreling toward her, heart in her throat every time he cut it too close. She told herself that’s just what friends did—waited around to see the other one make it back in one piece. But there was more to it, even then. She’d never told him, of course. Franco had always been too focused on the next race, the next finish line, to notice much about her that wasn’t familiar. It was easier that way. They were friends. That was enough.
Years passed, and with them, his childhood kart became a racing simulator, then an actual car, then a series of wins that only proved what she’d always known—that Franco was going somewhere.
Last year, his parents sold their house so he could go further, could reach another level she couldn’t quite see. He moved in with her and her family when he wasn’t racing, and for a few months, it was as if they were kids again, laughing late at night, plotting his future as he spilled out every dream he’d ever had. That was the year she started imagining he might finally see her the way she saw him.
But he didn’t.
Instead, Franco saw everything she wasn’t: the girl from another world, polished and magnetic, with a face and laugh that gleamed like the trophies he’d already started to collect. She caught him, snared him in a way that didn’t even seem real.
It was this girl—her name slipped off his tongue so easily when he let it—who went to the big events with him, who stood beside him when photographers crowded around after his races, a reminder that he’d already begun to belong somewhere else. She wanted to hate her, this stranger who was everything she wasn’t, but what good would it do?
It was easy to tell herself she was Franco’s friend. His best friend. The one who’d been there since the beginning, the one who stayed up with him on those late nights when all his dreams felt heavy enough to drown him. She’d learned to wear it like armour—the friend, the constant, the steady hand on his shoulder when his voice cracked and his confidence faltered.
No one else knew the small things about him, the things that made him human. Like how he had a superstition about not putting on his helmet until the very last second before a race. Or that his favorite thing in the world was the sound of tires on wet pavement, a soft hiss of rain and speed. Or that he used to dream of buying back the house his parents sold and giving them something better.
The nights she couldn’t sleep, she’d replay those memories to herself, like scenes from a film she’d seen too many times. They were pieces of a person she’d built up in her mind so completely, so painstakingly, that she sometimes forgot he wasn’t hers. Not really.
Now, Franco was leaving again, but this time it was different. The call had come last night, and she’d been there when he answered it, watching the way his face shifted, lit up with something she hadn’t seen since they were kids. He’d been invited to join a Formula 1 team—a chance to race against the best, a dream finally realised.
And she’d been the first person he told. “I’m in,” Franco had whispered to her after he hung up, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “I’m actually in.”
He’d pulled her into a hug, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself believe this moment was for her too—that she was a part of the dream. But when he finally let go, she could already feel him slipping away, his mind racing miles ahead, far beyond anything she could reach.
And now here they were, standing on the same dusty road they’d grown up on, only this time the road was empty. She could almost see his silhouette against the horizon, an outline that belonged to no one, not even her.
“So… this is it, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep her voice steady, her hands stuffed deep into her jacket pockets. She knew this was her job now: to be strong, supportive, even as she felt her chest tightening with everything she’d left unsaid.
Franco glanced over at her and smiled, that careless, easy grin she’d fallen in love with a thousand times. “Yeah. This is it.”
There was a part of her that wanted to say something, to tell him what it felt like to lose him, to have spent all these years beside him only to watch him walk away. But she didn’t, couldn’t. Because he needed her to be his friend, his rock. And that’s exactly what she would be, until the moment he disappeared from sight.
“You’ll be amazing out there,” she said softly, swallowing hard against the ache in her throat.
“Thanks,” Franco replied, his gaze drifting to the horizon, to whatever was waiting for him. He didn’t see her watching him, didn’t notice the way she tried to memorise every detail of his face, the way she gripped the fabric of her jacket so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Because that’s what she was: the person who stayed behind, the person who would cheer for him no matter how far he went, even if it took him far beyond her reach.
His first race was in Monza.
And Franco had made sure she’d be there.
The roar of engines echoed across Monza, the air thick with the metallic scent of fuel and adrenaline. She stood just outside the paddock, watching the mechanics scurry between cars, drivers in their fireproof suits weaving through a sea of engineers and cameras. It was Franco’s first Formula 1 race, the one he’d been chasing since the days they’d spent on that dusty street back home. He’d called her a week ago, saying he’d arranged for her ticket, that she had to be there, that it wouldn’t feel right without her.
She glanced down at her pass, fumbling with it between her fingers, her eyes darting over the crowds, wondering if she’d see him. But instead, she saw her—Franco’s girlfriend, standing just a few paces away, a beacon in the busy paddock with her polished, perfect smile.
She thought about turning around, slipping into the crowd where she could cheer Franco on from a distance, as she’d always done. But then Franco’s girlfriend caught her eye, waved her over with an easy, welcoming smile, and suddenly it was too late.
“Hi! You’re Franco’s best friend, no?” she said brightly, as if she’d been waiting for this meeting. “Franco’s told me all about you.”
She managed a smile, trying not to let her surprise show. “Nice to meet you,” she replied, her voice steady but her heart churning. This girl looked so effortlessly perfect—too perfect, really. She wanted to find something in her to resent, a crack, a flaw, some hint that would make her presence easier to bear. But the girl’s smile was warm, even gentle, and there wasn’t a hint of cruelty behind her eyes.
“You know,” she continued, turning to look at the track where the cars were being readied. “Franco always talks about how you’ve been there from the start. He says he wouldn’t be here without you.”
It was a sentiment she’d waited years to hear, but hearing it now, coming from someone else, made it feel empty, hollow. She nodded politely. “He’s worked so hard for this. I just… wanted to support him however I could.”
The girl looked at her, a spark of admiration in her eyes. “That’s really special. I think it means a lot to him, having someone who’s known him for so long.” She hesitated, her fingers twisting a ring on her hand. “I think he’s planning to introduce me to his family soon.”
A prickle of something sharp and painful settled in her chest. She managed to keep her face composed, even as the words sank in. “That’s great,” she said, injecting her voice with encouragement. “That sounds really important to him.”
The girl smiled, her gaze drifting as if she could see the future taking shape right in front of her. “Yeah… he said he wanted to wait until we’d been together for a year. He’s so thoughtful like that, you know? He really wants things to be right before introducing me to his family.” She looked at her, a touch of gratitude in her expression. “I think he got that from you—from seeing how much his family means to you.”
It was a kind thing to say, too kind. She wanted to hate her for it, but she couldn’t. There was nothing false about the way this girl looked at her, no jealousy or possessiveness. She was just… nice. The kind of nice that made her ache with the unfairness of it all, because it made it impossible to hate her, even though she desperately wanted to.
“Well, his family will love you,” she said, meaning it even as the words felt like they were tearing something fragile inside her. “He deserves to be happy.”
The girl gave her a soft, almost sympathetic smile, a smile that made her wonder if maybe she already knew—if she could see right through her, if she understood the look in her eyes, the one she tried so hard to hide.
As the engines started up in the distance, the girl reached out and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm. “For being there for him, for being his friend. I can tell he’s lucky to have you in his life.”
She returned the smile, feeling a heaviness settle deep within her. Franco was lucky, that was true—but not in the way she’d once dreamed he might be. He had everything now: the career, the future, the love of a woman who deserved him in ways she never could.
And as the cars roared to life on the track, she stood there beside his girlfriend, feeling like a silent ghost on the edges of his new world. She would cheer for him, just as she always had, but now she knew exactly where she stood—at a distance, a quiet fixture in his past, cheering him on from the shadows as he sped toward a future that had no place for her.
The race had ended hours ago, and the hotel was hushed, the lights dimmed in the halls. She was alone in her room, her suitcase half-packed, clothes folded neatly on the bed. She’d changed her flight back to Argentina; she would be gone by morning.
The evening had been a whirlwind—Franco finishing in P12 on his debut race, his crew and his girlfriend embracing him, his face beaming in a way she’d only ever dreamed of seeing up close. She’d stood in the background, clapping politely, just another face in the crowd, happy for him but feeling her heart splinter with each cheer.
A quiet knock broke her thoughts. She looked up, heart catching in her throat. Franco was standing in the doorway, his face lit with a warm smile.
“Hey,” he said, stepping inside, his hands in his pockets. “I was hoping you’d still be up.”
“Yeah, just… packing,” she murmured, glancing at the clothes on her bed. “I’ve got an early flight back.”
He frowned, like he hadn’t expected her to be leaving so soon. “I thought you’d stay a bit longer,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “It meant a lot to me that you were here, you know. I’m not sure I could have done it without you.”
She swallowed, trying to muster up a smile. “I’m proud of you, Fran. Really. You deserve all of this.”
He gave a modest shrug, his usual humility shining through. “It’s crazy, right? Like, it still doesn’t feel real.”
She nodded, unsure of what to say next, her hands clenching as she watched him, the words fighting to break free. But before she could speak, he went on, his face lighting up with excitement.
“Oh—and I wanted to tell you. Over the summer break, I’m planning to bring my girlfriend—” he gestured to the wall, where his girlfriend was probably just sitting in their shared room—“back to Argentina. She’s going to meet my family. I think they’ll love her.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She felt herself unraveling, her heart breaking open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Why her?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Franco blinked, looking at her, startled. “What do you mean?”
“Why her, Franco?” She repeated, her voice trembling, louder this time. “Why not me? What is it about me that you don’t find appealing? Am I too loud? Too… different? Do I not fit into your world somehow?” Her voice cracked, the weight of her words finally spilling out. “What is it about me that you don’t love, that you love about her?”
For a moment, he just stared, taken aback, as if he was seeing her for the first time, really seeing her. But his eyes were filled with confusion, like he was trying to make sense of what she was saying.
“Wait—” he started, his voice halting, uncertain. “I… I didn’t know you felt—”
She cut him off, her voice fierce, raw. “I loved you first, Franco.”
He went silent, the words settling between them like stones in water, sinking deeper and deeper.
“What?” he whispered, his voice almost as quiet as hers had been.
“I loved you first,” she repeated, her voice shaking. She could feel the tears gathering, but she didn’t want to cry, not now, not here. “Since we were kids, since you were that crazy kid racing down dirt roads, I loved you. I’ve been there every step, every race, every victory, every failure. I was the one who held your dreams when they felt too heavy to carry. I loved you first.”
She watched him, waiting, hoping for some sign of understanding, some glimmer of the love she’d imagined so many times. But his eyes were wide with shock, his face torn between pity and discomfort.
He shook his head slowly, the words seeming to catch in his throat before he finally managed to say them. “But… I love her.”
The words were a knife, sharp and relentless, cutting through the last fragments of hope she’d held on to.
She let out a hollow, broken laugh, her vision blurring as she looked away, unable to meet his eyes. “I know,” she whispered. “I know you do.” She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling with a rawness she couldn’t contain. “But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the weight of years pressing down between them. She could see the guilt etched into his expression, his mouth opening as if he wanted to say something to make it better. But there was nothing he could say—nothing that could change the reality that he had chosen someone else, someone who wasn’t her.
“I never meant to… I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said softly, reaching out as if to comfort her, but she stepped back, her arms wrapping around herself protectively.
“It’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out, feeling them scrape against her throat. “I… I just needed you to know. I needed you to know that I was here, that I’ve always been here. But now…” She trailed off, her voice breaking, the words she’d held for so long finally running dry.
She looked at him one last time, memorising the shape of his face, the boy she had loved and lost long before he ever realised. Then sat back down on the floor and continued packing, folding each piece of clothing and putting it away in silence, each one a silent goodbye.
When she noticed he still hadn’t left, that he was just watching him, she looked up at him. “I hope she makes you happy, Franco,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Really. I hope she gives you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
She looked back down not wanting to catch Franco’s look of pity and closed her suitcase as he walked out of her room.
Walking out of her life for what felt like forever.
It was the peak of summer, the air heavy with heat and the scents of wildflowers and sun-baked earth drifting through the open kitchen window. She was sitting at the table, picking absently at a bowl of sliced fruit, half-listening as her mother hummed while tidying up, when her mother paused and gave her a look she couldn’t quite decipher.
“I almost forgot to mention,” her mother said, wiping her hands on a towel, “Franco’s coming back to town soon. Said he’ll be here next week with his girlfriend, so they can meet his family.”
She looked down, letting the words sink in, feeling a familiar tightness bloom in her chest. She hadn’t spoken to Franco in weeks. Not since that night in Monza. Not since she’d finally let herself say all the things she’d bottled up for years, only to walk away feeling like she’d left a part of herself behind.
“Oh,” she murmured, keeping her tone as light as she could. “That’s… that’s good. His parents will be thrilled to meet her.”
Her mother looked at her carefully, her gaze soft but probing, as if she could sense the ache that lingered beneath her daughter’s casual words. “I thought maybe you’d be excited too,” her mother ventured, her voice gentle. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen him.”
She forced a small smile, looking down at her hands as she fiddled with her napkin. “Actually, I was thinking about going to Buenos Aires for a bit. Just a week or two with Tía Blanca. I’ve been meaning to go see her.”
Her mother tilted her head, her expression somewhere between sympathy and exasperation. “You can’t keep running from this, mi amor,” she said, her voice tender but firm.
Her shoulders tensed, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She knew her mother was right; every time she thought about seeing Franco, the old wound seemed to ache again, still raw, still fresh, no matter how many miles or weeks lay between them. But she wasn’t ready to face him yet. Not when the sight of him with someone else would only reopen everything she’d been trying so hard to let go of.
“I know I can’t keep running,” she said finally, her voice barely a whisper, her fingers twisting the napkin in her lap. “But I can now. And I can cope with that.”
Her mother sighed softly, reaching out to place a warm hand over hers. “Mi amor, one day, you’re going to have to stop protecting yourself from the things that hurt you. It’s the only way to truly move forward.”
She nodded, her throat tight, unable to meet her mother’s eyes. She knew her mother was right. But all she could think of was that moment in Monza, the echo of Franco’s words—But I love her. Words that still stung like salt on an open wound, even now.
“Maybe one day,” she whispered, more to herself than to her mother. But for now, Buenos Aires felt like the safest place to be—far from the memories, far from the impossible hope she still carried in her heart.
Her mother squeezed her hand gently before letting go, her silence filled with understanding. “Then go,” she said, with a small, knowing smile. “But you’ll know when it’s time to come home.”
And as she sat there, her heart heavy with everything she couldn’t say, she only hoped her mother was right.
A few days later, everything was sorted and she was ready to go to her aunt’s place.
She swung her bag over her shoulder, taking a deep breath as she stepped out of the house, the warm morning sun casting long shadows across the familiar dirt road. She was just two steps away from the car when she spotted it—Franco’s car, parked at the edge of the drive.
Her heart lurched, her mind scrambling, and she muttered under her breath, “No, no, no… please, not now.” She moved quickly toward her own car, fumbling for her keys as if speed alone could make her invisible. But before she could open the door, she heard his voice behind her.
“Oye, there you are!” he called, a wide, relieved smile on his face as he jogged over, his voice bright with the kind of joy she hadn’t heard from him in years. “I was hoping I’d run into you before you left. It’s been too long.”
She barely managed to keep her face neutral, clutching her bag as if it could shield her. “Yeah, well, I’ve got to get on the road. Don’t want to get stuck in traffic,” she said, opening the boot to toss her bag inside. She avoided looking at him, focusing on the small tasks—closing the boot, brushing off her hands, reaching for the door.
He took a step closer, his hand resting on the car door as if to keep her from leaving. “I’ve missed you,” he said, his tone softening. “You… you didn’t answer my calls after Monza. I didn’t know if… I just wanted to see you.”
She swallowed hard, glancing away as she forced herself to stay calm, the last words she wanted to hear sitting heavy between them. “That’s great, Franco,” she said, barely meeting his gaze, her words quick and mechanical. “But I really should get going.”
“Wait—” He looked at her, his expression slipping from surprise to concern. “Can we talk? Please?”
But she was already climbing into the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she turned the ignition. She couldn’t bear to stay, couldn’t bear to let him see her break again. “Take care, Franco,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed the door.
Before he could say another word, she pulled out, the tires kicking up dust as she drove away. In the rearview mirror, she saw him standing in the drive, watching her go, his face a mix of confusion and something close to sadness. She looked away, swallowing the lump in her throat as she focused on the road ahead.
But the further she drove, the harder it became to ignore the weight of all the memories tied to each familiar street and turn. Every signpost, every curve of the road reminded her of him—their childhood spent racing bikes and kicking up dust, lazy afternoons wandering these streets, dreaming of the future he was now living.
Tears blurred her vision as she drove, the memories rushing in like floodwaters, filling her mind with images she’d tried so hard to push aside: Franco at fourteen, laughing as he beat her in yet another race down the hill; Franco, younger still, sharing a quiet moment in the field just beyond town, his eyes bright with the dreams they’d both carried.
She wiped at her eyes, her heart aching as each memory pulled her further into the past, a past where they’d been inseparable, a past where she hadn’t yet realised what loving him truly meant. She could almost hear his laughter, feel his presence beside her, as if he were still the boy she’d known, before life had pulled them down different paths.
By the time she reached her aunt’s building in Buenos Aires, the weight of the drive had started to lift, the city’s pulse a welcome distraction from the quiet countryside. She parked and took a moment to gather herself, feeling the ache from earlier settle into something softer, something that no longer felt as urgent or raw.
Just as she opened the car door, a familiar voice called out.
“¡Mira! Is that really you?”
She looked up, startled, and felt her heart lift slightly. Standing by the curb was Angelo, an old friend from summers in the city. He had the same easy smile, his hair a little longer, his build a little broader, but his presence felt exactly as she remembered—warm and solid.
“Angelo!” She smiled, the weight on her shoulders easing just a little more.
He walked over, giving her a friendly hug before reaching into the car to help with her bag. “Let me help. You’re here for a visit?”
“Just two weeks,” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady as she glanced up at the familiar apartment building, a place that held a lifetime of summers, laughter, and memories untouched by the pain she’d left behind.
“Well, then,” he said, grinning as he hefted her bag easily, “we’ve got time to catch up.” His tone was light, but there was something else in his eyes, a quiet warmth that made her feel unexpectedly hopeful.
She followed him up the steps, comforted by his familiarity and the steady, unhurried way he moved, like he knew every corner of this building as well as she did. As they reached her aunt’s door, she felt her pulse slow, steadied by his presence.
The door opened before they could knock, her aunt’s familiar face breaking into a radiant smile. “There you are, mi niña!” She hugged her tightly, then turned to Angelo with a knowing smile. “And look who brought you all the way to the door! Angelo, you’re a sweetheart.”
He grinned, shrugging. “Anything for your family, señora.”
They all laughed, and for the first time in months, she felt a genuine ease settle over her, as if she’d left more than just a town behind—she’d left the weight of everything she’d been carrying.
As she glanced between her aunt and Angelo, the ache that had gripped her chest all day faded. The streets of Buenos Aires were bright outside the door, warm and humming with life. She breathed it in, feeling herself begin to let go of everything that had haunted her on that long drive.
Because maybe now that she was here, she could forget Franco.
to be continued…?
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when i took my drivers test the second time around i was so nervous, because i failed the first time, that i suddenly started speaking in like a terrible fake accent. it was so bad the instructor asked me where “my people” were from. it threw me off so bad i failed again.
#worst part is i didn’t know wether or not to tell the truth#i ended up trying to gaslight her by saying i’ve literally never left the country#i was like ???? what accent#she did not buy it#gen z#memes#cleaning out my drafts
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