I like to take pictures. I like to talk.
I’ve been lying to myself about how sad this absence is making me. I miss you so much.
“A comfort zone is a beautiful place, but nothing ever grows there.”
This perfectly describes the root of the anxiety I’ve felt in the last couple of months. So many things I want to do or change but I can’t seem to step out of my comfort zone.
With us, it’s never off the table.
I often wonder if I’m too hard on myself when critiquing my own work.
A comfortable feeling like no other. Why did this someone disappear? You can’t just find that again.
I have too many things. Material things that are not important to me. I need to go through my room, mostly my closet. I find joy in throwing away or giving away unnecessary things in my room. I feel weird when I notice how many things I have.
Being told I looked pretty by a guy I’ve always been attracted to was nice to hear. 👌😊
I miss you friend. 😔
I will always feel that I don’t take enough photos. And I will always feel that I don’t take good enough photos.
Left like leaves on the sleepy street, fallen like the rain. I don’t want to watch you go, or face the road alone again.
❤️ this skirt.