Something about me is I cannot borrow books from the library. I must buy them. I must see them on my bookshelf. I must scribble in notes and doodles and thoughts. I must lend them to friends and lovers. They make a beautiful accessory in my heart and in my home so yes I will continue to spend my money on them. It's not a waste.
Dear me in 2017,
It’s Sunday afternoon, January 2024. You’re sitting in your apartment watching the snow fall from your upstairs window. You don’t have anything to do because you already got everything done. You finally learned that discipline creates space for freedom. You enjoy eating again. You love cooking, trying new recipes, and sharing what you make with those you love. You realize that you are nourishing yourself so you can be healthy for your future family, rather than caring about fitting into a smaller size of jeans. You don’t have that family quite yet, but you pray for them everyday. You love the colors orange & pink again. You no longer speak to your best friend… but you’ve gained a few others who love you relentlessly and unconditionally. You found God. You don’t miss getting high. You forgave your mom. You take book recommendations from your step mom and talk about politics with your step dad. You miss them when you go back home now. You still believe your dreams will come true, but part of you is okay if they don’t. Memories still sting but not as much, and I promise you happiness does come.
I’m a different person to different people. Obnoxious to one, quiet to another, unknown to many, and trusted by a few, talented to some, and silly to a couple. But who am I to me? Who am I when I’m not seen by the eyes of others?
I want to sit down and read just for the sake of reading. I don’t want to do it because I get to add the title to my portfolio of things I have consumed. I don’t want to rush through a story just so it can be scratched off of a list. I don’t want to recite what I have learned to act like I understand something new. I want to understand because I am curious, not because it will make me sound smarter in a conversation. I want to be. I want to be. I want to enjoy. I just want to be. How did I forget to do things purely out of wanting to do them, why is there always an ulterior motive? I don’t want to have an explanation of why I do things anymore. How can I learn to enjoy again? Isn’t enjoyment and pleasure a reason enough?
Hi everyone! I made an Instagram for all of my writing, music, and art! I’d love it so much if you followed <3 @ Khylamarieren
i got asked what time i’d be home the other day. it dawned on me that my place of residence was just that, a place i went to at the end of the day. my bed and belongings were there. i knew which drawer the silverware was in and i had a specific shelf in the closet where i kept clean towels. but it wasn’t home. i hadn’t been home since i was 12. i just live here. i’d forgotten what a home feels like. coming home to a dinner? the tv kept on in the living room while you are upstairs because your family is still watching? leftovers that aren’t yours? knowing who is walking up the stairs just by the sound? schedules colliding? no hot water left? yelling? love? i’m not so sure. i thought about it some more. transitional homes are hard. maybe you’re in college with roommates, maybe your parents just got divorced, maybe you moved out of your childhood home, maybe you moved away by yourself. wherever you call home right now might not be your home forever, but it is where you are now, and you deserve it to feel like one. so decorate how you like, take up room, tidy up and care for the space you are in. “home” isn’t always about what happens inside those walls, but more so what is happening inside of you. treat yourself kindly. provide a safe space for yourself. and in the meantime, you can dream about a future where you can gift the feeling of “home” for the ones you love.
there are just some people you will meet in life that have a tendency to make an appearance in everything. all that you see, touch, smell, hear. they make a home in your heart and it alters the way you perceive what surrounds you. forever. i can't even remember my life before i met a few certain people. they've added so much character and color. isn't that special? the way just one person's view on life can completely alter your own? but the most beautiful part of all is that you are constantly on display for someone. you may not realize it, but when that song plays in the car, they think of you. when they pass your favorite restaurant, they think of you... you can be found in the petals of your favorite flower and in the humor of your favorite film. don't you write and daydream about people you love? well they do the same for you too. as they are everywhere, so are you.
treat me exactly how you feel about me. see me as i am. don’t just tell me what you think i want to hear, tell me a truth you’re afraid to let slip. don’t just believe in my potential, watch how i pave the way to wherever i want to go. trials and all. don’t love me for the way i kissed you in your dreams. love me while i sit quietly on the couch. take me as i am, right now. just love me in the way you truly love me. see me as i am before the world fades to black.
my care and curiosity for the world is coming back. there's not as much background noise, and sweet gestures or moments seem to be a little more in focus. i don't wish for numbness or static anymore. even if there's bad news to be shared with me i'd like to really feel it. i've learned feeling pain is much more bearable than feeling nothing, and in turn, it makes the rush of a good emotion that much more addicting. the world seems bigger too. music paints a picture again, the smell of pine gives me a memory of my childhood home, and i really care what movie the stranger at the grocery store recommends. i'll even go home and watch it, study it, figure out what makes it their favorite film. why? i'm not so sure. i guess after not feeling anything for so long i want to feel everything, and not just my own emotions. i want to hear what other people experience and give myself a taste of it. think about, so many people all having their own passions, desires, ticks, a song that makes them fall into tenderness, a memory that makes them angry. i want it all. i want to entangle myself with everyone and everything. i'm starting to feel again and i can't get enough.
