struggling with ed is no joke because why tf do i feel like a fucking whale when i’m at the healthiest weight i’ve ever been. why tf do i cry about my thighs touching and my pants actually fitting. for the first time in my life, i weigh more than 50kgs and able to actually donate blood but i feel im at my fattest. the self awareness of it all makes it even worse. i dread the day im liberated from all this suffering.
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having a cousin in every age group made me realize how (no offense in the next statement) people are getting dumber. writing in cursive is already a forgotten practice and reading is mostly performative. the significant decline in common sense and critical thinking will be the death of art, culture and personality. it makes me sad and yearn for a world that isn’t lived onscreen.
modernity has failed us.
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i used to have a habit of writing reminders to my future self. Whenever i was spiraling or stuck in a depressing moment, I’d leave a note on my calendar for that exact same date, one year later. It was a message sent into the dark, a quiet hope that by the time i read it, things would finally be better.
i haven’t felt the need to do that lately. the perks of having someone to share the heavy moments with has changed everything. but now, I want to start writing to my future self again not to survive the bad days, but to celebrate the good ones. i want next year’s version of me to remember exactly how much joy I’m feeling right now.
born on April 7th 