Things are slowly dying down. I think we’ve passed the climax, or at least I hope so. My mom’s slowly going back to her normal self. She’s not obviously angry anymore. My sister is fixing her move to Canada, and planning on marrying next year. My father got promoted and bought my mom an iPhone to help her recover. Me? I’m honestly relieved things are getting better. I still am trying to hope, but I’m just relieved my family is slowly picking up from the hell of a storm we’ve been through the past month because of me. I’m not yet okay with myself, but at least the people around me are moving on.

Life. We go through storms, and then we either get through it, or we get caught up on it and never survive. I’m still trying to recover. I know I’ll be okay soon, but for now, it’s good to know that the people I caused trouble to are moving on.

weltenwellen:

Jasmin Lee Cori, The Emotionally Absent Mother: How to Recognize and Heal the Invisible Effects of Childhood Emotional Neglect

“What about me? Do you love me? Can you let me go this easily? Sino mas lamang sa’min?”

What if I asked these questions on our last night? What if I asked first rather than decide? Looking back, I realized I made the decision right away to leave without asking him questions about us. It was the smarter choice I guess?

I won’t deny. It was the best August of my life. I’ve had some of the happiest days with him. But looking at the cost of it now, I’m not sure if I’d still want it. I should’ve known. I should’ve not taken things seriously.

But I fell for it. So shame on me.

You groomed him to be a better man.

You came into his life to make him realize the bad things he’s done.

Your purpose in his life is to be his lesson.

Now he has learned. He is new. He is better.

So it’s your time to go.

goodnight-moves-deactivated2022:

At 40, Franz Kafka (1883-1924), who never married and had no children, walked through the park in Berlin when he met a girl who was crying because she had lost her favourite doll. She and Kafka searched for the doll unsuccessfully. Kafka told her to meet him there the next day and they would come back to look for her.

The next day, when they had not yet found the doll, Kafka gave the girl a letter “written” by the doll saying “please don’t cry. I took a trip to see the world. I will write to you about my adventures.”

Thus began a story which continued until the end of Kafka’s life.

During their meetings, Kafka read the letters of the doll carefully written with adventures and conversations that the girl found adorable.

Finally, Kafka brought back the doll (he bought one) that had returned. “It doesn’t look like my doll at all,“ said the girl.

Kafka handed her another letter in which the doll wrote: "my travels have changed me.” the little girl hugged the new doll and brought her happy home.

A year later Kafka died. Many years later, the now-adult girl found a letter inside the doll. In the tiny letter signed by Kafka it was written:

“Everything you love will probably be lost, but in the end, love will return in another way.”

sudeikat:

“When they don’t love you the way you want to, you mourn that for however long you need to. But then you get back up and you remind yourself. You are not a reflection of the people who can’t love you. You will love again. You will be loved again.” - Caitlyn Siehl 

Saw an entry I wrote on my phone during the days when I started to realize I like him. We’re done now but I don’t have to deny my feelings, so I’m posting it here.

July 14, 2022 at 3:42 PM

I like his smile, how his eyes curve when he does it.

I like the way he bursts when he laughs, the sound he made when he saw me unbutton my shorts because I was eating too much my shorts couldn’t fit.

I like how he’s caring and maalaga even though he said he isn’t.

I like how outgoing and loud he is, but gentle and soft deep inside.

I like how he still makes me feel like a friend even if we have this kind of relationship.

I like how genuine he is, what you see is what you get.

I like how he’s just a different person when I got to know him more, and all the judgement of him were countered when I got to know who he really is.

I’ve accepted it.

I’ve accepted that I may not be lucky in love. No matter how easy I am to be loved. Nor how hard I love. It’s not how it works apparently. People just get lucky to be able to find theirs. I’m not one of them. And it’s okay. It’s not the only reason to live. I’m talking about romantic love. It’s not the only love that exists. Love comes in many forms. I have friends who love me. Family as well. It doesn’t have to be romantic, right?

solsburryhill:

cant sleep too busy thinking about “love is awful. it’s awful. it’s painful. it’s frightening. it makes you doubt yourself, judge yourself, distance yourself from the other people in your life. it makes you selfish. it makes you creepy, makes you obsessed with your hair, makes you cruel, makes you say and do things you never thought you would do. it’s all any of us want, and it’s hell when we get there. so no wonder it’s something we don’t want to do on our own. i was taught if we’re born with love then life is about choosing the right place to put it. people talk about that a lot, feeling right, when it feels right it’s easy. but i’m not sure that’s true. it takes strength to know what’s right. and love isn’t something that weak people do. being a romantic takes a hell of a lot of hope. i think what they mean is, when you find somebody that you love, it feels like hope.”

televisiongifs:

FLEABAG | 2.06

rocktheholygrail:

Fleabag (2016-2019)
Better Call Saul (2015-2022)

It amazes me how timing works. I don’t know how coincidental life just is, or there really is some slice of magic going on. 

I am currently obsessed with Fleabag. It’s kind of an old show now since the last episode aired about 3 years ago, but I came across it I think last year or the beginning of this year. I started the first couple of episodes but somehow I didn’t get to finish it until just recently.

Recently when real shit happened to my life again. Recently when September 2022 happened, the biggest plot twist in my life to date. (Maybe someday I can write about Sep 2022, someday when I’m healed)

And recently Fleabag just went across my mind again. I was able to finish the whole series this time, and I regret not watching this sooner because of how beautiful it is, from the script to the characters to the message. But at the same time, I’m thankful of the perfect timing it reached my life, because I can horribly relate to every part of it, and it helped me a lot in my situation right now. I see myself in Fleabag. I see myself in every part of the show. It comforted me like blanket on a rainy Sunday morning. Me watching Fleabag in this season of my life is just perfect timing.

So even though timing could be a bitch, it sometimes do work in my favors.