What If Every Time I Open Our Old Messages, You Opened Them Too? Could We Relive The Same Moments Together

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i'm blue 2025/04/30

Have you ever dreamed of someone you’ve never met, but your soul swears they belong to you?

For You, Exactly As You Are

You wake up tired, scroll bad news until it blurs. Answer emails, jaw clenched tight— or can’t even bear to look.

You say “I’m fine” with three tabs open—rent, repair, relief— and one on how to sleep through the stress, or how not to sleep all the time.

You forget. You snap. You soften. You try again.

If you are carrying children, parents, partners— meals, medications, moods— and no one asks how you’re doing, this is me asking.

Not just if you’re managing. If you’re okay. If you’ve been held, or fed, or even seen.

How are you, really?

If your brain jumps tracks mid-sentence, mid-plan, mid-dream— if the dishes feel impossible, if you forgot again and hate yourself for it— please hear this: you are not alone. Not at all.

This world wasn’t built for minds like yours, but that doesn’t mean yours is wrong. It means you’ve been trying to bloom through cracked concrete, drinking whatever rain you could reach, and still—still—you flowered.

If the world was made for standing without thinking, for walking without fear, for climbing stairs without pain, for seeing every sign, for hearing every word—

If holding a pen, a fork, a steering wheel costs more energy than you have, if you measure your day in spoons left, not hours passed—

you are not broken. You are not a burden. The burden is stairs with no ramp, streets that swallow wheels, silence when you ask for help.

If rest feels dangerous, if joy feels stolen, if you’re so used to pushing through you forgot how to just be— you’re not the only one.

The world wasn’t built for you. Not for most of us, was it? But you are here anyway, making it work how you can.

That is not failure. That is survival. That is a kind of brilliance.

You are not failing. You are not falling behind. You are responding to a world that punishes tenderness.

And still— you are kind. You are trying. You are here.

If you wonder whether I mean you, I do. Even if the voice says "not me," I still do.

Come as you are: tired, tangled, beautiful.

You don’t have to fix yourself to deserve rest. You don’t have to be better to be loved.

You already are loved.

Still.

Still.

May 12 to 13, 1913 Letters to Felice by Franz Kafka First published : 1973

I hope that leaving me leads to me being in your dreams every night

I don’t know how to cope. I don’t know how to heal or forget or move on.

I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind for the first time today. I don’t really watch movies, so I avoided it for a long time, but I knew I would love it.

It’s devastating.

When I think about you, I wish I could forget. We had one intense year. Every minute we spent together, it was just one year. One year of secrets, of competing, of falling asleep on the phone. Just one year of games and arguments and half given truths. If it was gone, I would be okay.

I spent 5 years pretending you didn’t happen. Waving away any brief thought. A quick smile to a memory before pushing it down, until they were all pushed down and nothing left. I didn’t bring you up in conversations anymore. I didn’t check the weather where you were. I deleted our pictures, made new accounts to avoid our old conversations. I turned the radio off when that song came on. I unlearned habits.

When did I stop subtracting three hours every time I looked at a clock?

I would give everything to go back and love you all over again.

Last year, I heard songs that reminded me of you, but I played them on repeat instead of skipping them. I went back to the games we played together. I started to see you in everything. You come up in conversations. You’re always on my mind.

Falling snow

why is every girl on tumblr going through it rn shall we all just have a support group with eachother