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I want to get away. I want to be anonymous. I want to get lost in the writhing masses, melt into crowds, like a leaf tumbling in the wind. I want my feelings for myself, for my days to be bad and for the only collateral damage to be some cookies and tea. Why can’t I be apathetic without seeming uncaring? Tired without being unsocial? Stressed without being angry? Why do my feelings have to have context? Can’t I just be instead of always following up with because?

I want to find a tiny cafe filled with strangers who will glance at me with a smile and then go back to reading their books and newspapers. I want a corner of my own, where no one will know I am. I want to go a whole day without talking. I want to lie in bed and not feel guilty about facing one direction instead of another.

I want to start the day without consulting about “The Plan”. God, why do we need plans? Why do I need to consult? Why does it even matter when it really comes down to me doing what I wanted anyways, but having to outsource and validate it first?

I want to go to a bar and order a pint and chat up the bartender.

I want to go to a concert of a band I do not know, and sway to the music.

I want to smile when I want to. Not all the live long fucking day. And for that to affect nobody but me.

"Dusk does not

 apologize to dawn

 for what occurred

between them, and

neither should you.

 You are a flowing

 river, navigating

 yourself through

 clean water.

 Do not drown

 under what

 once was."

- Noor Shirazie (via aestheticintrovert)

(via anditslove)


Banff, Canada | Mark Heine

The smell of fresh cherry tomatoes and the plum lavender scone I bought at the farmer’s market this morning keeps wafting over to me as I study in the library -  it’s like a ray of sunshine between these never ending days of studying inside. 

Things like this make me miss home. Or at least, people who would appreciate this smell too. Those people are home to me, wherever they are scattered in this great big world. 


Landscapes, 2014 | by Justin Carrasquillo

(via anditslove)

I have this sudden, intense yearning to go back

Can I rewind to two years go? Can I rewind myself, walk backwards along these avenues and streets, briskly filled with a cacophony of sirens and horns, fading into the sweeter silence of the empty streets of Kingston. The sun would just be setting through the trees, over the lake. I would be biking from class, or the library, or a meeting at Cogro - coasting along in my Toms and sweatpants. There wouldn’t be a car in sight as I carelessly peddled from side to side, like writing calligraphy along the concrete. 

Did I mention - it would be quiet?

And I would revel in being alone. 

Alone, with a cup of tea for company. And my music, constantly playing in the background.

When you put a song on repeat for hours while you’re studying, you can’t help but imprint it in your memory. Now, when I hear those songs meant to focus, calm, soothe, I remember the long nights they carried me through. Maybe not the night itself, but the feeling that if I just kept listening, I’d be able to make it through.

It was so much nicer to bike through the streets at night, back then. I liked it best at 2 am, when the muffled silence of the ghetto felt like a blanket and I could hear people partying in the distance at the quad, while I biked home from the library. 

Now I don’t have a bike. And I am not alone. 

All I can do is listen to those same songs and imagine I can feel the wind in my hair.