The saddest soul. But you wouldn’t know.
Carmenchenying
@carmenchenying
" A girl can't read that sort of thing without her lipstick. "
I enjoy being different, don't you?
I got reality checked out, the xx tickets are sold out. Bummer!
Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is “Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.” It’s nostalgia for studying abroad that one semester. Travel is realizing that “age thirty” should be shed of its goddamn stigma.
― Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty To Think So?
April
The month was filled with joyful 21st birthday parties amongst friends. These occasions gathered old friends for posh dinners and several suggestions of staycations for upcoming birthday folks.
With all due excitement, the month suppressed work stress coming from my internship. Fridays are always in anticipation as a well deserved dinner are routinely in lieu. Adding on to the positivity are dates with my loverrr(the term ‘lover’ sounds enigmatic, I like it).
Moving forward, I’ve a pal’s wedding to attend in the month of May. Oh joy!
I wish I was a photograph tucked into the corners of your wallet. I wish I was a photograph you carried like a future in your back pocket. I wish I was that face you showed to strangers when they ask you where yo’ve come from. I wish I was that someone that you’ve come from every time you get there. And when you’re there, I wish I was that someone that got phone calls and postcards saying “Wish you were here.”
-Andrea Gibson
THE PURSUIT OF BEING.
Years from now, you will find that the things you held dear, were all trivial to the core. All of those silly little things you cared about meant nothing, and the naive quest for perfection was a giant fucking waste of time.
I wish you all well on your pursuit of being.
The Pursuit of Being by John O’Callaghan
Obstinate, adj.
Sometimes it becomes a contest: Which is more stubborn, the love or the two arguing people caught within it?
When it’s going well, the fact of it is everywhere. It’s there in the song that shuffles into your ears. It’s there in the book you’re reading. It’s there on the shelves of the store as you reach for a towel and forget about the towel. It’s there as you open the door. As you stare off into the subway, it’s what you’re looking at. You wear it on the inside of your hat. It lines your pockets. It’s the temperature.
The hitch, of course, it’s that when it’s going badly, it’s in all the same places.
