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Every scar tells a story, each mark recounts a piece of my history, every line and curve tells of the person I am and the people I have been. It has countless stories to tell, if you know where to look for them.
Jun 12, 2024
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Feeling nostalgic for the times I tucked myself away, in a secluded spot of the library and jotted down my favorite quotes from piles of books.
Libraries foreverrr 🩷
Libraries foreverrr 🩷
Apr 17, 2025
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📖Well, first, let me just say that if you don’t read often, my initial recommendation is that you change that, and begin reading often.I love to read. I refuse to borrow books from people, and I never lend them out. I’ve always felt like there was something special about the physical copy of the book you read any story in. Something I love to do is to inscribe my books. In fact, it’s sort of a rule of mine, or if not a rule, a sort of ritual. Years ago, my inscriptions started out simply, usually just when and where I got the book (i.e. Mast Books 2019) with my signature underneath. But over time my inscriptions have become increasingly more detailed. In addition to when and where I got the book, I now write everything about the moment in which I bought it, including my day preceding the moment of purchase, my mood during the actual sale, and whatever else springs to mind. After this I write another equally detailed inscription whenever I actually start reading the book. Finally, I write a culminating inscription in the back of the book as soon as I finish reading the last page. Through this process, every book I own becomes a sort of makeshift diary, demarcating the specific period of my life in which that book kept me company. Little bits of ordinary days that I otherwise would never have thought to remember become a matter of permanent record in my library. And when I flip through an old book, I remember not only my life at that time, but also how it was interwoven with the actual narrative of the book. It’s a strangely comforting feeling. Whenever someone gives me a book, I always request an inscription from them, so I never forget who gave it to me, and when I give a book, I of course inscribe it for them too. So, if you ever find yourself looking at your pile of books, big or small, and can’t remember when you read them, or who gave them to you, just start inscribing them! You don’t have to be tedious and sentimental about it like me (although being tedious and sentimental, I do highly recommend), just write a little something, and then you’ll have a library of memories too. And an inscribed book really is the best gift you can give! (Along with cakes)(If you do want a good book rec, check out The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada, it’s like 120 pages, so hardly a book, but a really great quick and profound little read)
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📚something so scrumptious about browsing books at a library or bookstore. seeing all the different kinds of literature i could read and stories i could experience. tooooo good
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I'm a July baby. Growing up, I spent most of my birthdays alone. Some years because my friends had left the country. Some years because I'd left the country. Some years because I had no friends. And with every year passing, the pressure to spend my birthday surrounded by friends and family and to have a good time increased. Every year I felt like a failure when I couldn't make it happen. So I stopped telling people it's my birthday.
But today is my 28th birthday.
But today is my 28th birthday.
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✨I hadn't seen my friend since New Year's Eve. Now it was October, her wedding day, and she barely gave me the chance to gush over her gorgeous dress, her makeup, her jewelry.
"You look happier," she said. "Your energy has changed. It's much calmer now. I'm happy for you."
I love her for taking the time out of her special day to notice me like that.
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We got the call just after 7pm. My dad had gone for a run, collapsed, and was found dazed and confused by his friends, who called an ambulance.
I drove my mom to the ER. We spent four endless hours at my dad's bed, waiting for test results that took forever to reach us. Just before midnight, the doctor told us my dad's heart was okay, but they'd keep him overnight for observation. My mom and I were sent home. We hadn't eaten yet.
The house felt wrong when we came home. Empty without my dad. I started crying. "You have to eat something," my mom said. She dug up some chicken nuggets from the depths of the freezer. Everything felt incomplete with just the two of us there, but after a couple of chicken nuggets, we thought for the first time that everything would turn out okay. My dad is too stubborn to go like that. Especially when there are chicken nuggets to be eaten with his family.
I drove my mom to the ER. We spent four endless hours at my dad's bed, waiting for test results that took forever to reach us. Just before midnight, the doctor told us my dad's heart was okay, but they'd keep him overnight for observation. My mom and I were sent home. We hadn't eaten yet.
The house felt wrong when we came home. Empty without my dad. I started crying. "You have to eat something," my mom said. She dug up some chicken nuggets from the depths of the freezer. Everything felt incomplete with just the two of us there, but after a couple of chicken nuggets, we thought for the first time that everything would turn out okay. My dad is too stubborn to go like that. Especially when there are chicken nuggets to be eaten with his family.