scrap of Peanuts timeline with Charlie Brown and Snoopy
(original source unknown, via livedoor.jp)
Art director at twenty-two.
In the end, it was easier saying no. Much easier than leaving it all behind, making magazines that is—that was the toughest.
It was easiest to slip into this newness, what I have now. The ease of all these things rolling off my back as soon as the newness settled, it’s a wonder and a blessing, nothing less.
lavender hot chocolate
400 activists show real victims of human cruelty for the International Day of Animal Rights. The animals are gathered from the garbage at slaughterhouses, ponds, fur farms… all of them are already dead and thrown away like rubbish.
oh my god.
I felt my heart break.
Tonight I had my lemon chicken dinner, alone, at 9PM, everyone else retired and tucked away in various areas of the house. Mid-bite, between the tangy sauce and the chicken meat, I realized for the first time that I am, in fact, not doing this the first time. For months and months now, I have been having late dinners by myself.
I have never felt so young and so adult in my entire life. I am convinced we’ve got it all wrong before—this should be the young adult phase in our lives, or at the very least, in mine anyway. Old enough to be having all these late dinners by myself, young enough to be driven to school.
These days, I catch myself in between: bites, breaths, deep love and seething anger (hate is still too strong a word in my book). I run only to catch up to myself, and in the many in-betweens, I have the slightest almost-awareness that I miss: writing, knowing, the kind of profundity that can only exist in the slowness of things. Sometimes, I suspect I just miss it all, or maybe: I miss the point.
In any case, not now (for fear of unraveling); maybe later (when all this is over and done with).
Yesterday, I thought of where I am right now considering I’m twenty-three and promptly launched into a moment of blinded panic, and then I realized I am only twenty-two and felt so much better about myself. I am learning to be more patient and kind to other people, but it is hardest of all to be patient and kind to myself.
These days, I see a thin straight line to walk on, with everything already laid out for me, if only I am to be good enough for all of it. I don’t know if I am, but I wonder if wanting it this bad would make me good enough.
Some relatives have come home from abroad and taken siege of my bedroom. I have migrated here for the meantime.