i whipped out this treasure of a photo tonight for jay. it’s from when i was a cheerleader in high school.
so enjoy this little late night snack for all you still scrolling through the dash/my blog, searching for treats.
going through myspace messages from 8th/9th gradde
i’m embarrassed for my young stuff. the messages consist of:
- the boy i really liked/had my first kiss with/us sending surprisingly naughty messages to each other (OH GOD)
- his twin brother, always asking for advice
- me trying to be friends with cute scene girls who would flirt with me then i would get freaked out
- surprising amounts of drama
- this is so weird
as an ER physician, my father had to work some obscure hours. 6pm-2am, 10pm-6am, etc. i would get so wound up in missing him when i was younger. i’d get so anxious falling asleep without him home. i would cry about missing him.
but he’d call. he would always manage to call. in the midst of all the chaotic baltimore city emergencies, he’d call. he’d tell me not to cry and he’d call me “sweetie pie.” and i would say, “i love you daey.”
being around michael and his son, henry, whose every word was “daey” made me miss my father so much. i’m always waiting on dad’s call to stop the crying.
“We Will Become Silhouettes” - The Postal Service
Perfect homework music
holy 8th grade memories.
(Source: goeller--coaster)
remember when i used to be cute? someone needs to reshave my head… or i do. it’s at a creepy length of like two inches now.
i used to just watch these movies that made me hate life even more than i did. i’d say this was five years ago now. i would just feed my depression because i felt like i didn’t have anything else to feed. i didn’t even have some pet to feed.
and i would try to get people to watch these movies with me. the people who slowly drifted back into my life at random stages. everything was a stage it seemed. it was pre-suicidal, suicidal, or post-suicidal. any stage sucked because i was always being watched. or not watched. or something different. but these people would never like the movies i watched. and they’d slowly drift away, which i didn’t seem to care about.
i haven’t watched these movies that i used to call my “favorites.” and my main therapist at shepard pratt has been dead for almost two years. or is it one year? i still have a used copy of eternal sunshine of the spotless mind that hasn’t been touched. what if i watched these movies again? pop in the disc and see what happens.
this is from the bryn mawr yule ball back in 2008.
i need a reason to recreate this outfit.