it's my party and i'll cry if i want to

that was the theme of my birthday this year. and boy, did i embrace it! i cried in a way that i thought was only possible when you're in first grade and you just found out that your parents didn't actually send your dog to a happy little family farm on the edge of town. it was that kind of crying that shakes every part of you until you can't breath or talk, and yet feels surprisingly cathartic in this really heartbreaking way. kate, daniela and max were the ultimate people to go to with a broken heart (which was still in the process of being broken at the time). each time i came upstairs they had a new sad song playing (patsy cline's crazy was my favourite) and extra big hugs ready. with every relationship i realize that i make "interesting" romantic choices, but rather incredible friend choices.

people keep reminding me to breath. sometimes the simplest things are the hardest to remember.

oily marks appear on walls, where pleasure moments hung before the takeover

it's strange to realize that after so much time i still don't trust myself. other peoples' voices resonate more loudly in me than my own.

i saw every action through your lens, and that isn't fair to me or to him. what confuses and hurts me more than what happened is that i believed your somehow expert opinion over what i knew in my heart. i feel awful for what i let myself think about him and for the trust i had in you.

you call me naive, but i would rather be that than callous.