i tan fasted on the tops of my shoulders. my calves the slowest.
i like the feeling of the sun warming my skin but i like closing my eyes in the sun the most. you can see the brightness of the sun even with your eyes closed. i want to be that bright; offer such joy and happiness that even in the depths of despair it exists.
it’s only been in recent months that i’ve learnt first hand what ‘even a worm will turn’ means. i hate it.
since dying my hair red it doesn’t get so hot from the sun like it did when it was black. it’s weird. i keep touching it. i can’t believe all the ways i have changed.
baker-miller pink is a colour thought to reduce aggression. i have a pair of pajama pants that are kind of that colour. apparently in the long term it’s actually been proven to increase paranoia. i think about this a lot; how the long term makes good things tend towards badness. is it true the other way around? how can anything say good? how can i stay good?
if you burn a candle for long enough on the very first go then it burns to the edges and burns perfectly all the way down. i forgot to and now i have a weird well in many of my candles. to be loved is to be changed.
i only like my glasses extremely clean. i want to view the world in the best way.
i have a splatter of four very small very faint sun spots underneath my left eye. i think they make me extremely beautiful. though i’m not sure if anyone else can see them. whenever anyone uses the world beautiful to describe me my fingertips brush them.
there is a red mark on my right foot’s littlest toe. it is called a port wine stain. it grew through my younger years. i don’t look at it closely enough to know if it’s still growing but i am quite fond of it; it disappears when you press hard. sometimes under pressure things crack. the stain always comes back after just a moment.
sometimes sensations feel real. like when a butterfly flutters near me i feel it like it had always been happening and i only just noticed it. like the universe took note of it.
i want to be kind. to myself too.
i’ve never been so loyal as i am today.
i kiss my wrist and it holds more meaning than i could say.
my nose piercing stings. it hurts more than i can compute. my piercer laughs at me; i think he finds my never ending supply of tears to be somewhat endearing. the pain radiates from my nose outward across my face until my toes are also aching. but i feel beautiful; look at me crafting a life i can love. look at me go.
i find myself asking the mirror listlessly if i’ve ever even given people a chance to love me. let me leave you before you deem me not worth staying.
someone tells me that art hasn’t been breathing in a while. i think of the crying faces i would draw on the walls as a baby girl.
regret is a powerful thing. it moves my hair to the side and traces the joining of my shoulder and neck. pretends there is enough space there. silly girl, all this love for everyone else but what about you?
the burn on my hand doesn’t sting anymore. the burn on my hand doesn’t sting anymore.
beautiful! <3