There's This Narrative About People That I Have In My Head Every Now & Then That Revovles Around Me.

There's this narrative about people that I have in my head every now & then that revovles around me. Never too fond of people and always considered myself as a walking misanthrope yet sometimes I happen to reconsider my assumptions in my head again.

but how much I hate when some seemingly nice people come along my way and I happen to think the other way for a split second. Maybe it's the way people treat me. I always considered connections to be something we bond over years but how can someone justify the people I met a year ago to be hospitable enough to look after me every day. It's the series of services in the name of friendship like making peanut jelly sandwiches or oiling your hair selflessly. Giving out flowers to make your day happy. Dressing you up before them to look the prettiest.There's no maybe's, it's the act of services they assure you.

how can I forget the capable emotional support friends. Like just a call and they be coming over just to spend the rest of the evening with you. Also, randomly hugging you whenever things turn the other way. Bringing you, your favorite food. If I sit and thing about all those series of services, it might take the whole day. But for the better, I feel grateful for having those people around me.

Katherine Mansfield, from a letter to J. M. Murry written c. December 1919

you ever feel like you were born with something rotten inside you and if people get close enough they’re gonna find out

I'll forever be your "under the sun during winter" feeling.

the fact that i'm no longer the same age as the protagonists of novels and films i once connected to is so heartbreaking. there was a time when I looked forward to turning their age. i did. and i also outgrew them. i continue to age, but they don't; never will. the immortality of fiction is beautiful, but cruel.