Ras sudr
After what seems like a lifetime of distance between now and my life back home a mere 2 weeks ago, I am momentarily stunned. Stopped in my tracks. In the whir and bustle of the bazaar, I see a jewellery box - and I imagine him standing in my spot looking at a similar scene thinking of me two and half years ago. It was almost dream-like…as khan el-khalili continued to rally around me and new friends and faces laughed and motioned, I couldn’t process any of it. My breath caught -for a second? for a minute? - then reality rushed back into high definition, I laughed at something someone said and we walked on. But part of me didn’t follow my feet, part of my thoughts stayed with the box and part of my heart wondered about another universe out there where it doesn’t have to wonder. I hope I got it right somewhere, somewhen.
Pyramid views from the balcony :)
first purchase in cairo - freshly squeezed watermelon juice
it took me until april 20th to realize that april 18th had passed. i guess that’s progress?
i’ve been trying to forget the feeling of ‘being found’ and ‘being home’ that he gave me. even though i can convince myself of romanticizing the past and putting him or us on a pedestal for anything else, i can’t convince myself for those two. i still feel my eyes do something weird when i first see him (a flash of recognition? x1000?), still feel a strange awareness if he’s in the same room as me, still notice his name like a speed bump when i’m scrolling through my phone or facebook.
not sure how to close this - i just wanted to let some words and disjointed thoughts out. in other news i almost straight up killed myself over my finals this week. probably got a total of 9 rem cycles, 30L of coffee, and 0 vegetables in 4 days…
"You desperately want to be inspired again, to hold someone’s hand in the street, to have them brush the hair from your eyes as you rest your face on their chest in bed on lazy Sundays. You want someone to tell you they love you in the dim half-light of morning, you want someone you can cook dinner for, you want someone whose wounds you can lick. You want someone who is at once your best friend but with whom you share the secret sweetness of sex, and a heightened physical and emotional intimacy. And yet: wanting is not the same as having, and you let them all pass by you and around you, like wind whipping against your ankles. Your heart is still and safe."
Kat George
Berndnaut Smilde created a cloud in a room which was visible for mere minutes at Hotel MariaKapel.
(via toseesarasmile)
Taken with instagram
The things I meant.
“Does it bother you how casual we’re being about this?”
“Are you going to be okay?”
This lingering merry-go-round replay of dialogue from this morning is because I am a stupid fool and can’t manage to be fucking honest when he asks me questions -
YES IT DOES BOTHER ME (my brain has been yelling this all day). And no I do not feel okay. Not okay. I don’t know when I’ll ever be completely okay with surgically removing him from my heart. It still reduces me to a sobbing mess if I let myself think about us for too long; meanwhile he is completely unfazed and comforting me, the gigantic idiot who’s lagging in the post-break up life by 10,000 miles.
And when I said “I hate those girls who don’t know what romcom means” it wasn’t because “its common knowledge” its because they were asked to watch them with him. I hate that he invites girls to watch romantic comedies with him. I hate that he’s 25-50% over me. I hate that he’s okay with me getting a boyfriend. I hate everything about this.
Why am I floundering?? Why don’t I have my shit together like he does?
(Source: dear-jay, via multiplicative)
