in the struggle of everyday life, I find myself turning to the quiet things that give me comfort. a haunting piano melody from a distant childhood, the view of the streets awash with bright sunlight, or the gentle hug of a trusted plush... it's these quiet comforts of mine that help define periods of my life. different elements play out at the same time, but it never truly feels the same as it would've the day before. I think... that there's an unspoken difference in the past, the present, and the future. even though I repeat the same things every day, each day seems to have a unique quality that never seems to replicate itself the day after. It's strange, really. Even when things stay the same, bit by bit, a gradual change is present. That's how time flows.
discord. june 12, 2021. 4:02am.
ВИ ЧИТАЄТЕ
Old Snips (a collection of old writing)
РізнеThis is just an old collection of writing I did from way back when. Putting them up here mainly for archival purposes. Feel free to gawk, feel free to stare. 🌥
