Letters - Blog Posts
I’m tired, can’t think of anything and want only to lay my face in your lap, feel your hand on my head and remain like that through all eternity.
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
Yours
(now I'm even losing my name - it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena
Sad to know that while my heart was breaking
You were sleeping or just faking.
@lørenisalone (・・?)
You ever just... Have that URGE to have a pen pal. Like, yes, having online friends is cool and fun and nice and all but I miss the long-form communication that comes with letters. I want someone I can write an elaborate letter to about all that has happened the last few months, only to recieve their letter a month later with all their little details of their past few months. I want the knowledge that somebody chose the paper, chose the pencil, chose the envelope, and put in all that effort just to tell me how they have been.
Wouldn't it be awesome if we revived having pen pals? Like I know it will probably never happen because if the internet but I just love the aesthetic of opening a new letter every couple days/weeks as a way to do a friendship. And I bet that you could be so much more real with a pen pal cause they probably will never meet you irl. You could tell them anything and it wouldn't matter but it would feel like it does.
Idk, maybe I just like the idea of intimacy without commitment and instead need therapy.
the most beautiful words in the english language
ineffable — indescribable, unspeakable
eudaemonia — the state of consummate happiness
sumptuous — extremely costly, luxurious, magnificent
nadir — the lowest point (of something abstract)
lassitude —tiredness, lack of energy
scintilla — a spark or a trace of something
aurora — the dawn
quintessential — perfectly typical or representative of a particular kind of person or thing
renaissance — revival
bodacious — remarkable, admirable
ebullience — the quality of excitement and enthusiasm
36 DAYS OF TYPE .03 :: 2016
:: All the project ::
Mozart's handwriting VS
Beethoven's Handwriting
Well, it’s not a hundred years yet, but I think it’s poetic as finding a vintage locket in an old forgotten dresser. Actually it feels like a message of people and lessons and emotions hidden from everyone for just me to find, even though it isn’t.
maybe in a few 100 years, a kid would stumble upon my Tumblr account and I hope it is as poetic as finding a vintage locket in an old forgotten dresser
letter of gratitude
I normally don't post this kind of thing here, but this is a letter I had to write about someone who changed my life for the better. and while I know that there is no way for me to actually send this letter to her, I needed to get this off my chest.
I know that we haven’t talked in a while, and I know that you probably want nothing to do with me. I really regret how the last time we saw each other went, but I wanted to let you know that you were my best friend and the reason why I wanted to go to school every day. I enjoyed our walks around the playground, how we would talk about our worry’s and gushing about our crushes, all the while hiding how I had the biggest crush on you.
I remember that day in third grade so clearly, I had just returned to school after breaking my leg for the second time, and for some reason the school staff put me on the biggest hill and told me to stay there, I really don’t understand what went through their heads. But as I’m trying to wobble my way up the hill, I look up and see my childhood bully crying in the spot where I normally watch all the kids in our class play. Even though I was scared of you, I couldn’t let someone cry and not want to help them feel better- looking back it was very obvious that I was an empathetic child, I mean I used to cry if someone I cared for cried in front of me- so I walked up on my crutches and I asked you what was wrong, and in all the anger a crying third grader could muster; you told me to fuck off.
For some reason I didn’t back down, I don’t understand why I didn’t leave you there. But I couldn’t, I told you I wouldn’t leave and that talking to others makes me feel better when I’m sad, and that ill stay to listen even though your mean to me. I said “ I’m doing what I would want someone to do for me” after all that’s what my mom and girl scout leader told us all the time. Well actually they told us to “treat others the way we would want to be treated” but its basically the same thing. Anyway, we talked and somehow it sparked an unlikely friendship. After that day you would come and sit by me on that hill since I couldn’t do anything else, and then when I got my cast off, we would play, and you introduced me to your friends. I was so happy; I don’t think you ever knew how lonely I was before that. I didn’t have many friends as I was the shy quiet kid. I know that the teachers had talked to my parents before, and that they were worried that this added to me struggling in class. I also know that they were worried about you, I remember them always partnering us up for group work, and while child me didn’t know what all the side glances at us were, I know now.
And then in fourth grade when I re-broke that same leg, you sat by me during reses, and even when I worried that you would grow tired of me, you told me that you would rather sit with me then play with the kids that didn’t like you. I would bring you books that I thought you would like, and in class you would sit with me during the group reading activity and whisper to me the words that I couldn’t say correctly. I remember the teacher pulling us aside one day and saying that you were such a great friend for helping me when I got stuck, and I was so grateful that you didn’t make me feel stupid. You never teased me for being slow after learning about my ADHD, you actually got all the kids that bullied me for it to back off. I remember how we would get so excited when I had a doctor’s appointment because I was supposed to get my cast off, and the doctor told me that I wouldn’t need to used crutches anymore, so my mother sent me to school without them. However, by the second-class period I was in so much pain that I was sobbing, and you helped me limp my way to the nurse’s office to call my mom. You held my hand while I tried to explain to the women at the front desk why I needed to call my mom and when I couldn’t get the words out you, in your angry but worried fashion told her to “hurry up and call my mom because I was in a lot of pain.”
Fast forward to the fifth grade and we found out that were in the same class yet again, however this time the teacher wouldn’t let us sit next to each other. We ended up on completely opposite sides of the room. This didn’t stop us though, and we would make silly faces at each other only to get told off by the teacher. By the time that lunch came around we were glued to the hip, needing to catch up on all the time we didn’t get to talk. And then, about half-way through the fourth month, a girl names Reily moved to our school. There was something about her that just screamed ‘I need a friend’, and it felt like it was my duty to do everything I could do to befriend this girl. I was known as the girl in our class to be friends with everyone in our grade, all of that would have never happened if we didn’t become friends. You drew me out of my shell, and I mellowed you out a bit. You were the ying to my yang,
Unfortunately, every friendship has their arguments. Looking back on it, it was so stupid. I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. We didn’t talk for a full three weeks, I remember all of our friends would talk to us separately, trying to get us to talk to one another. But we were both so stubborn. It got to the point that the school counselors got involved and so did our parents. It’s a bit of a blur for me, but I do remember that we made up and were back to being best friends.
You were there for me, and I was there for you, that’s what made up our friendship. We held each other together like glue. While we didn’t have phones in fifth grade, when I did get one before sixth grade, I immediately needed my mom to call your mom. In middle school we didn’t have many classes together, but we did have the same lunches. You were there to help me figure out why I suddenly stopped eating as much and why there were these girls in the grade above us telling me to kill myself and that I need to lose weight to fit in. I was already a small kid, but to them I wasn’t good enough. I just wanted to be their friend and at one point thought that they genuinely liked me. I held you while you cried and stayed on the phone with you when your mom would pass out after drinking, and then we would have sleepovers to take your mind off of it.
You would sit with me at lunch when I felt like even having ice would make me gain a crap ton of weight, and when I got so sick with worry you would hold my hair for me in the bathroom.
Over the summer we didn’t see each other at all, to this day I still don’t know. However, when the first day of seventh grade happened, we spent all of first block catching up, it felt like we were never apart. I still don’t know why, but something felt different about that year though. There was a looming feeling that I just couldn’t shake hanging over me, and I think you felt it too. We were more distant; we didn’t talk as much. Our friend group had little circles in it, and while the big group met up for lunch, the rest of the day was separated. I made other friends and so did you, but in the end, on the last day of seventh grade. I couldn’t stop crying, no matter what you tried, nothing would cheer me up. The entire friend group was so confused, I was having panic attack after panic attack. Every time I would stop crying for a bit, something would happen, and id start all over again. I know that I was the crybaby or goodie two-shoes in the group, but this was excessive- even for me-. I didn’t know how to tell you that I was moving, and I was such a wimp, that anytime that I would try to get it out, my lungs would feel like they were out of breath and my throat would feel tight. And I just couldn’t say it. So, I didn’t…
There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not telling you or any of our friends, it was the shittest thing I ever did. I guess the moral of the story of recounting our friendship- while leaving out the parts I really don’t want my professor to know- is that I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you, and that I really appreciate the friendship that we had. I hope that someday, if I ever get the courage to send this to you, you read it and feel the same warm, fuzzy feeling that I get. I will admit, I cried multiple times while writing this, and my throat feels the same way you do after having a good cry, but I think that I really needed to get this off my chest.
I love you,
Daphie
Brown, your eyes are brown. Your eyes are the most beautiful I've ever seen, brown. Your eyes are brown, they shine when I look at them.
Brown, your hair is brown. Brunette, your hair is beautiful. You tell me you don't wash it enough but I don't care. Your hair is brown, brown like the earth itself. Your hair reminds me that I too can express myself however I want.
Brown. You're my friend, a dear friend. Your jokes make me laugh and I love to see you happy but when I think of losing you my world gets dark. If I think about losing your smile I seem to get consumed by thoughts of death, why can't you be normal.
Brown, the most beautiful color I've ever seen, only because you're in my life.
School, school is terrifying. I hate school but I need to go there, per law.
You, you're there. I love you and school isn't as terrible when you're there, with me.
Me, I am lonely without you. You're the thing keeping me going.
Without you, without you I cannot live. A year and a half ago I was all alone. Alone in a school where I didn't really belong with anyone, because you weren't there, you were sick.
A life, a life without you seems impossible. How could it be possible without your incredible presence in it? Your jokes keep me going every day.
Not one day, not one day goes by that I'm not afraid you'll be sick again. Leave me alone again. Not come to keep me going for weeks on end.
I'm not sure but somehow I've started to depend on you too much. I love you even though I could never say it to your face, I'll love you through all sickness and sadness. I love you, I love you, I love you.
To you I say this, don't ever leave me I beg of you.
what to add to handwritten letters
whether it be to an overseas penpal or simply an appreciated friend
paint swatches of colors that remind you of them
the local time of sunrise and sunset (penpal)
meaningful song lyrics
magazine cutouts
pages of old books folded into a small envelope
a secret about your hometown
recounts of strangers you saw
teabag of your favourite tea maybe a paragraph about why you love it
a small sketch or lil’ painting
pressed flowers from the sidewalk
origami or a handmade paper doll
bubble gum or small candies
a little playlist, maybe with an incredibly specific title
rings or small jewellery
a heart shaped note with things you love
washi tape! (maybe wrap it around a popscile stick)
a list of extensual questions, to twist with the mind
random pages from an old book
things from the sidewalk
glitter or sequins or pearls or buttons
a pretty photograph
flat objects or coins
a sticker sheet
Why am I like this
Sometimes I open tumblr because I feel like writing. And then I sit and stare at the blank canvas that longs to be filled by my thoughts but I just...can’t. I can’t. And it makes me angry. I want to write something, I need to write something, but trying to pin down the words that are constantly circling around my head makes me realize that I don’t have a f*vking clue.
I don’t know
Anything
I’m lost in my own mind and the longer I stare at the letters in front of me the harder it gets to come back up and breathe fresh air.
I don’t know
Anything
At all
And I can’t help but hate the words that make it onto the pages because they are not what I want them to be and they make me believe things that aren’t there and
Damn
I really don’t know
Anything
At all
Or at least that’s what this post makes me believe.