trying my best ... راحة ᯓ★ say what's up: yourworldoftext.com/~contristo ᯓ★ ᝰ: Virginia Woolf - How should One read a Book? ♪: random chill beats youtube playlists ^ܠ^: house [zernell gielle], IBMOH [pearfat], lust [lush] ✉: ... ᯓ★ it is *thursday* // ... sky has been hazy because of the wildfires in canada ... right when you want to get your shit together the world makes it impossible to go outside ... last night I met a man from new york who acted like he knew detroit as well as I did ... I miss you detroit, though I couldn't go outside even if I was home right now, the smoke is even worse there ... it's weird to be somewhere with a lot of people ... they act like you'll never see them again ... and you probably won't ... though the bartender down the street already knows my name and order ... ᯓ★ 7.9.26 Nothing dribbling from my cup down my chin. Staring into the sun, parched. There are no emotions without writing but there is certainly writing without emotions. 3.5.26 new year new me but all I have discovered is that if I keep biting down and grinding my teeth I will have nothing left in my mouth to silently chip away at. maybe trying so hard to never have nightmares is taking away from receiving messages in my dreams. Is a mouthguard the barrier to entry. Will you visit me at night if I wear my retainer again. Are all of my secrets hidden behind my molars. I've been scared of the dentist for the past few years. 12.15.25 It is easier to run away when you know you are able to come back whenever you wish. There is nowhere for me to go, but you cannot be mad at me for trying to prove it. If I return disheveled know it's because the world is insistent on chewing me up and spitting me out. 11.12.25 I remember a day in college where, after class, I stopped by the coffee shop for a shot of espresso right before they closed. It was brisk outside, and I sat by the window. They were not upset I came in so late and still offered me a sparkling water, a free box of expiring pastries. I felt so grown up - the feeling has not left. This is what adults do, right? Drink espresso in the cold and have essays to write. I hope so, as I am excited to drink more and write more. hopefully until my hands give out. 10.17.25 My heart stays stuck my heart stays here my heart has not let a day pass without thinking about all that ever was is and will be. what do you mean you don't do that. 9.12.25 It felt easier to appreciate what I had before it was gone in every moment but this one. A shift I never expected. I try to fill my lungs and hands and stomach with gratitude but the moments in between leave me starved. The everyday used to be accompanied by a slight breeze. Now - stale and fragmented, buzzing with electricity yet somehow never alive. 8.26.25 Attempting to contain my leaps and bounds as someone who shrivels up at the idea of change. I want to lay on the hot sidewalk and turn into a raisin, prune. Someone will step on me and I will go as far as I can stuck to the bottom of their shoe. 8.12.25 Sitting on a porch in Arizona. Appreciating the foliage around me (#5B5B1D). Practicing acknowledging while letting things pass by. The cicadas are very loud around here. Their hum puts me to sleep. The heat makes everything move at a slower pace. 8.1.25 Running off inertia, but only in circles so the ground below me is worn out and my feet are starting to hurt. 7.22.25 Taking my own hand, recognizing I am not good at practice. Cutting through the thick vines of hedonism. Picking up two items and deciding what's for dinner tonight. Falling into silent moments and getting stuck in quicksand. White knuckling. Bursting at the seams. What makes this street different from a road 300 miles east. Why must I memorize every detail that makes up a grocery store. I've driven this curve countless times. 7.11.25 It is hard to feel exhausted so often. I am aware of what would heal me (waking up to the birds, sitting by a body of moving water - preferably lake michigan, seeing plants dance in the wind, creating, learning, listening, dancing) yet it is all so out of reach in this inconsiderate hellscape of [america?] [capitalism?] [my job?] [any job?] [my brain?] 6.30.25 If I could reach down my throat and remove this feeling from my stomach I would. But it has deep overlapping roots, a whole underground system at this point. I am unable to compartmentalize the sprawl of love I am forced to notice. I am unable to not relish in the most familiar feeling. Incredibly stunted but so largely felt. I like the solitude of its lack of relatability. I like the story it tells, even if it never exists outside of me.