I waited for the apologies, the regrets, but after it all happened, the pain still lingers. Regretting it or saying sorry didn't alter the outcome or ease the hurt.

Seeing old videos of myself makes me happy, just record yourself talking about some random things you will love it.

Why do you tolerate people?

Sometimes I catch myself imagining a scenario where they're gone for good, like, you know, passing away, and then I think, "Hey, I'll probably regret not being more patient with them." It's weird, but I end up picturing their funeral and feeling kinda down about it, even though they might have done some intolerable stuff to me before.

Other one is
Sometimes I find myself thinking they're the only ones I've got, like, I should be grateful they let me stick around. It's like I feel I should just accept whatever they’ve got.

Woke up and started questioning what I was even doing with my life. Is this really the path I want to be on?

Of course, it had to happen on a day when I had to wake up early.

Now am thinking about whether I should raise a cat or not.

Just because of this.

The mother mental health and emotional intelligence is the big factor in raising her child. It's not always Daddy's issues.

I have never ever felt like I have ever dreamt. I go to sleep at the dead of the night, between three kittens who tug and scratch at my back, in the middle of the loudest and wildest stories my roommates tell each other, drunk, high or some other inevitable inebriation. I go to sleep and I see visions of blurry but still distinguishable figures, places and events. Right before the story ends, I wake up late to four missed calls, two from my girlfriend and two from my dad. Past multiple snoozed alarms, and the sun almost over my head. But I still don’t think that story was a dream. It was unexpected, confusing and even frightening at times. I was actually never a part of it, but I would be there overseeing every bizarre thing going on. I wasn’t always like this, I think it was better when we were younger. See, I remember when we were kids how my older brother played and interacted with his pillow like it was an iPad, anytime I asked him what he was doing he’d tell me he was choosing dreams to sleep to. My life feels like the dream, not because it’s great or exciting in any “dreamy” way but because of how tangible and responsive it all feels. And even how inconsistent, how random, how all over the place it feels. Perhaps we’re living in reality, but the subjective experience of it is a dream state. And the experience I have when I have is not a dream itself but packaged with the subjective experience that feels like a dream.

-@AreYaWinningSurafel

🫧.

There is this endless quest for more, you know? We see people with all the riches and power, yet their hearts are still a mess. And then there's sanity - sure, we've got it, but not everyone knows how to be kind. So what's our limit, really? What more do we need than what we've got now? When will we learn to be grateful, to be content whether we're in calm waters or facing the heat? It feels like it's always gonna be one thing after another, this endless pursuit to fill that empty space inside us. But stuffing it with things like money and power, just to get people to notice us? Feels kinda pointless, doesn't it? Wish we could all figure out our limits and stop this cycle of chasing after stuff we don't really need. We should explore but not fill it with things we can't control.

Am I the only person who can sleep peacefully after drinking coffee??

I'd rather take a jab than a pat on the back.