qotd ermagerd

"no don't say that... there has to be a way."

– quotes from the week, mostly friday.

…

"but like, anything could happen."

"yeah, i guess so. anything could happen. but i'm not counting on it."

her heart was yearning for me, in place of my own.

…

"why do you look so sad? you're living the dream!"

"oh. really?"

"don't you think you're living the dream?"

"um. i don't really know.

do you know??"

"....  yea i think i am living the dream."

"oh. that's good."

…

"funny how your dream city can turn on you and kill your dreams.

it was weird. i usually know what to say but this day, i had no answer for him."

…

"what are your goals?? tell me your goals, short and long term."

"i.. hmm. i'm not sure."

"you don't know?"

"short term.. i mean, i moved into a new place so that's good, right?"

"yeah you right, that's a big thing that you should be proud of and we're all happy for you."

"long term.. i don't know. i guess i didnt really plan much after this. i just want to make it through the year, ya know?"

"that is okay. not knowing."

"i think i just want a friend. that's all i can really think of."

...

"so what are your dreams?"

"what?"

"what are your dreams? your life goals?"

"uhm. i'm not sure how to answer that."

"okay, tell me your realistic life goal, and then your scary, brave, big dream."

"hmm. realistic dream, i guess i'm kinda doing it right now. making a career in coffee and what not."

"okay, tell me your big dream."

...

"you've just been thinking about survival."

"yeah. you're right."

...

"so what's one thing that you think you could give up right now to follow that dream?"

"uhm. idk, i guess i could not do laundry."

lol.

"i can't really afford to follow my dream nowadays."

"no, dont say that... there has to be a way."

her heart was yearning for me, in place of my own.

"anything could happen."

"yeah, anything can happen, but im not counting on it."

"just.. don't give up just yet. there has to be a way."

...

"later, i find out that she wants to be a doctor. it was a dream that she, too, lost hope in, but decided to believe in again very recently.

she's going to pick up classes soon.

ah. i see."

...

"is that okay? is it okay to be just normal?"

...

these were all snippets of things i've heard in the last week and the majority of them happened yesterday. it's kind of weird. 5-6 different conversations with different people, all about the same thing.

i think this will become a story some time soon. like a story not on this blogspot but in my actual blog or something. 

dream smol, friends.

baggage

we looked into each other's eyes, our faces close to touching. it was an intimate moment.
she scanned my face, examining in every detail.

after a minute, she asked me,
"can i pluck your eyebrows?? they're so thick."

i raised one at her.

"no."

i turned away, detaching eye contact.

"no one gets to pluck my eyebrows."

"okay."


"no one."

…

smol group

i can probably count the number of times i been to church this year with the fingers on my hands.

but it be like that sometimes. barista life is hard.

i went to smol group last night at eric's church and damn, baggage is real.

i remember the last time i tried going to a new church all my myself and it was not pretty. i had to reckon with my past demons, the ones i thought i put down long time ago. i knew i was shy, but this was something else.

social anxiety is a mofo.
i felt powerless. small.

when i showed up to small group last night, it was a constant and active effort not to sink back into that same place of self-pity –and in this christianese version – self-excommunication.

it was conscious battle of wits – with myself – for myself. to avoid sinking back into that hole of isolation and disillusioned comfort inside of myself. to keep myself from picking up the same baggage, one more time.

"that is not me."

i have power. power to say hello, power to ask how you're doing, power to ask more about who you are.

i don't need to wait for you.

you don't think that of me.
i think that of myself, but it's probably not true.

stuff like this, 
trying to think it into existence, 
ringing in my head, 
the entire time, 
at small group.

that's the funny thing with inner demons. you may have moved on from them, buried them into the ground, but you can still resurrect them any time you want.

fuck money

just posted my first thing and wow, it's so satisfying to just throw shit out there without looking back. no edits, proofreads, and anything. even in hs, i spent hours editing my trash blog posts lol.

i guess no one's looking anyways.

well i realized how much more i have to say whilst writing post_000001 so here i am again (i guess this is how these things work).

tbh i dunno if im supposed to be an artist anymore, because life (wupwup). there was once a time when i could do life and still create content, cultivate my creator self, blablabla but i realzie that there's this version of life called "student life" and how far apart it is from "real life".

when i'm not working, i just want to melt and anime because work is life and if i don't, i'll be broke and back to parent's home, and gg.

okay that's not entirely true, but there are a lot of other things that take the place of creating and writing stories. ie, laundry and people i care about.

then at that point, i'm done.

i work so hard just to barely afford my current apt and if i slack, i'll be not eating meals for a bit. so i feel like i need to conserve the little energy i have left from work to spend it on the most important things, ie. people and laundry. 

maybe if i was a loner, i'd have time for art.

well i was sort of a loner in high school. hm.

the point is, i don't get how working young adults are supposed to make a living and do art at the same time. how do you afford to be an artist? 

i guess some people just make hella bank but even if they do, they work 40+ hour weeks and they dont have time or energy for art. and if they do..  i don't know anyone who does. hm.

it doesn't help that i work as a barista, making minimum wage. 

i'm starting to be okay with not making a career out of my art, but can i just do it for funs? because i care about it? because it's a part of who i am?

it seems i just have to suppress that part of myself for a while. i guess i can't afford to be myself.

wup wup.

welp review

feelin pretty inspired rn. 

dreamville just dropped revenge iii, jaden just released erys, erys, erys (deluxe), and erys (deluxe),
and i just read through my friend isaac's high school blogspot.

i write storeis on my wordpress but i don't post much because i feel like there's this pressure to edit proofread, grammar check and curate content and polish and its this whole process that takes forever but sometimes, i just wanna put stuff out there. i just wanna drop 4 copies of the same album on spotify (which one am i supposed to listen to lol).

sometimes i don't post for like a good 9 months and fans be like when the album drop bro
tip hit me up with tweet, said "whatchu waitin on"

and i have plenty to say, just not enough time to go thru that whole creative process and bla (artists be broke tho, need that green). so hence this blogspot. 

maybe i don't have what it takes to be a short-story writer, or the world just sucks and money is dum, but i can always write a hs ranty blog about my moody sadboi feels.

sometimes, life is just one big wup wup 2-star welp review, and you need some good lofi beats to study/relax to. you just need something to express your internal arm flailing and to quell your existential dread, etc.

so here's to ai-ya mood, and highschool blogger angst. 

#wupwup