just found this old sketchbook from high school while cleaning, and wow, my doodles were so bad but like, there’s a couple that really hit, why did i stop drawing? anyway, feels like a whole other person did those, kinda sad thinking about how lost i got in life but also like, should i pick it back up? my hands are not what they used to be though.
staring at my old vinyl collection, all those records i loved—while my friends post about their new cars and houses. here i am in my tiny apartment with empty shelves where the savings used to be, just trying to remember when it got so quiet.
aaray, yaar, matlab samjho na, my mother-in-law says my daughters should have been sons and I feel like I should start a support group for people whose family trees are only full of thorns not flowers.
aaray, yaar, matlab samjho na, my mother-in-law says my daughters should have been sons and I feel like I should start a support group for people whose family trees are only full of thorns not flowers.
it took me 40 minutes to gather the energy to walk from my car to the entrance, and the moment i got inside, someone looked me up and down and said "you don’t look sick." like okay, because invisibility works wonders huh.