San Clemente Syndrome.
Do you ever get lost among your inner selves? Cause I do. Quite a lot.
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The Concept Of Being Pretty.
When I think about myself as a little girl, I remember being constantly told that I’m pretty. That I look cute. That I’m beautiful. And I never really questioned that. I didn’t have to think why. And I didn’t care because that was a given fact.
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Nothing Lasts.
Early morning (probably 8AM). Icy stone tiles. Red cheeks. Sleepy people on the bus (I wonder if they’re still dreaming). Rising sun. Ginger stray cat. White Pomeranian dog. Naked trees. Altered reality. Freezing hands. Messy thoughts. Bright Eyes playing in the background. A piece of chocolate cake from uni café. Shattered conversations. Anxiety. Albert Camus books. Sense of detachment. Buzzing mind and never ending obligations (or at least it feels like that). Confusion. Confusion. Confusion. Daydreams. People watching. Memories from the past. From childhood. From yesterday. From tomorrow. From past lives. Waiting. Living.
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Young Heart.
I hope you’ll always find a reason to smile. No matter what it is, no matter how stupid it seems. I hope you’ll always have something to look forward to.
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Coffee Talk.
So, I get lost. A lot. Probably more than your average person does. Or maybe not – after all, I’ve only ever been me, so it wouldn’t be very fair to make assumptions like that. But it feels like a lot.
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Black Cat.
There are days when I simply can’t find her. She was here, how is it even possible that she’s not? Where is she? I try to go on with my day, but nothing feels quite right. I tell myself, oh, she’s gonna come back soon, don’t worry. But I just can’t stop myself from wondering. Why she left. What I’m supposed to do now. Then I start looking for clues.
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