a quiet moment

I took a break from gui­tar. Not a con­scious deci­sion, just days that were busy enough that I didn’t think of pick­ing her up, which means I don’t even know how long I’d stopped. All I know is that it was long, cause I feel the strings vibrat­ing through every piece of wood that touches my body now, one of those sen­sa­tions you stop notic­ing after enough time.

I haven’t had much to say either. Nothing seems impor­tant. At the same time, I’m try­ing to move away from this social media over­load, where so many peo­ple speak only cause the power to do makes them believe they should. It’s mak­ing the gaps between my entries longer and longer, and I won­der if I’ll even­tu­ally stop writ­ing altogether.

getting dressed


All I have are mem­o­ries of lives I lived so long ago that I feel like I’m watch­ing them in 8mm. The friends and the lovers, the love and the hate, the cycles and the pat­terns. I’m only now sort­ing out the mean­ing of each one, maybe cause I’ve finally grown enough to under­stand myself and my rela­tion­ship with the world at large. It’s com­fort­ing to see how far I’ve come when com­par­ing the per­son I am now to each per­son I used to be.

But such progress came at the cost of my inno­cence; we aren’t always ready to learn the harder lessons, and sur­viv­ing some­times means we change in ways that pre­vent us from becom­ing the peo­ple we’re meant to be. I’m try­ing to take back that inno­cence now, cause I know my hap­pi­ness is at stake.

not today

Summer has been over­cast, if not rainy. It’s great. I can keep every win­dow open, and the whole day feels like it’s a dew-soaked morn­ing on the verge of a sun­rise. It’s enough to make me believe that the real sum­mer is never coming.

girl playing cello


These days I’m still recov­er­ing, still learn­ing to treat myself with com­pas­sion. Sometimes it’s a blurry line between that and pro­cras­ti­na­tion. I don’t know how I feel about parts of my life, parts I never ques­tioned before, and it’s a strange uncer­tainty to be carrying.

That means I don’t know how to act around most peo­ple, some­thing I haven’t had trou­ble with since I was a kid. I’ve been avoid­ing most social con­tact, while spend­ing time with the few peo­ple who know me well enough to hurt me. Sometimes it’s like walk­ing on a tightrope, wait­ing to fall off. Everything is an exer­cise in vul­ner­a­bil­ity. Luckily, they’re the right peo­ple to help me through as well, the right peo­ple to put my trust into. This is how I learn to love again.



I’m learn­ing to be self­ish too, espe­cially at a time like this. I’ve real­ized how impor­tant it is to be obliged to myself, instead of con­stantly putting aside my feel­ings for the sake of oth­ers. That means under­stand­ing what I need out of my rela­tion­ships, instead of try­ing to make them what I thought they should be. Sometimes that also means mak­ing sure I spend enough time alone.

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Lisa-time, me-time

Our reunion ended on a cliffhanger, where *Skins SPOILERS* Tony gets hit by a bus, Sid finds Cassie, and Angie breaks up with Chris. But fin­ish­ing a sea­son means we have the chance to start some­thing new (or resume another show), and we tend to alter­nate between com­edy and drama, sweet and savoury, while sur­rounded by kit­ties in the lit­tle nest we make for ourselves.

girl and cat

Cats warm their balls in your hair and make eye con­tact to show dominance.

I didn’t real­ize how hard it was to go a whole month with­out her until I saw her again. The time we’ve spent over the last few years has made me com­fort­able enough to let my guard down, and it’s good to be reminded that we’re capa­ble of such things every now and then, espe­cially when still deal­ing with trust issues and emo­tional trauma.

The things we share are often small and sim­ple, as they’re mostly about plea­sures and we’re eas­ily pleased. Actually, it’s more like she’s eas­ily pleased, while I’m pleased when oth­ers are happy. It’s a dynamic that works really well for both of us. I love myself when I’m with her cause she appre­ci­ates me in all the intri­cate ways I want to be appre­ci­ated, and that gives me a lot of the val­i­da­tion I need in my life right now.

this must be the place

Somewhere, I have notes on fam­ily and names, the infamy of Cuban fare, being alone together, break­ing the seal, pass­ing Damian on the way to Havana, salty hair from salty air, rum and brown, threaded fin­gers, not enough euchre, every life-guard try­ing to sell me lob­ster meals, pat­terns on palms, plus 20 min­utes Cuba time, find­ing out how deep my scars run, blush­ing through my sun­burn, sand every­where and in everything.



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