Uma crônica íntima com prosa poética, escritas em e-mails ou num diário.

Ever wistful, evermore...

I turn the page quietly. Idgaf. And I don’t like giving people the satisfaction, and even less carrying bitterness around in my heart. Nothing should be that personal or that important. I’ll feel the pain in the moment, but after some time it’ll barely mean anything at all.

It depends on that first impression. Itrust my instincts a lot and usually lean on them, but if it’s something more superficial, I do think people deserve another chance.

I wish I were funnier. I think I’m more morbid-and-entertaining than naturally funny, but there are people who make being hilarious look so effortless that I always want them around me.

One person in particular, but I think I can still get over it. Nothing’s lost yet!!!!

Probably. Even though I love when honesty comes with softness and transparency, I still think there’s a time and place for everything. Not everything needs to be exposed like glass.

I’m gonna DIE, there are way too many. but the first one that came to mind was “Last Hope” by Paramore.

Something bittersweet...something I can feel deep in my spine but can never really touch. Or “Ribs” by Lorde.

Developing healthier communication skills and learning how to handle my stuffs with care and practice.