Stumbled across an ‘old poem’ that I wrote down upon finding it online. It was under a youtube video about Aphrodite and feeling beautiful —

I put those words into quotes because it isn’t actually poetry. But I read it that way. There’s something inexplicably beautiful about its lack of context, knowing nothing of the author besides what they wrote. And what beautiful words they are, they touched me deep, holding onto my bones with a grip that left imprint.

Therefore, here it is :

’Didn’t know about ‘hip dips’ but I know the body shape of a mother. It’s something special. And I can’t pretend to know much about anything at all, actually.’ January 31st, 2025.

The Butterfly Effect is beautiful. I love that I met you. Regardless of the how or why it’ll the end way it does. Well — thinking of an ending is saddening. I’m far too melancholic recently, I blame PMS. No, I shouldn’t blame other things. I’m in control of my reactions & all. I see now, that was prerequisite! What a messy mind I have, to not notice it sooner. No one is coming to my party, and that’s okay!

Often times I will wake up disoriented and dreamy — My grandma merely opened my door, and out of some instinct or perhaps guilt, I lunged out of bed and quickly came up with apologies

“Sorry, sorry, I’m getting out of bed now,” “Did I not hear you call me the first time? I’m so sorry,” “Discúlpame, Abu,”

After all that fell from my lips like foam or sickness, she stared at me blankly.

“Es un sabado, ah…” I heard myself mutter, but it wasn’t me — she was much more little and scared, confused, avoiding punishment and afraid.

‘Solo quería ver si estabas respirando’, was what my Grandma said to me, gave me a chore, then left my room.

I can’t tell if it’s part of being multiple or if I was simply so engrossed in my dream, a continuation of the last one, that I was fearful and timid and everything I’m not supposed to be.

As long as you find your happiness, does it matter if others do? That’s just the thing! Happiness for most is happiness of others as well. We are not us without our friends, after all.

^Without your friends you’re nothing^, not quite. Without your friends you’re half of something — we only learn who we are through social interaction, after all.

What good does isolation do? Play in the sun, get tanned, or burnt, get sea salt in your mouth and sand in your hair. These little inconveniences make life so much sweeter — There’s nothing better than a shower after a beach day, there’s nothing better than gazing upon the smiling face of the ones you love most and knowing you’ll hang out again soon, there’s nothing better than kissing your pet on its little forehead knowing it doesn’t understand but loving it anyway.

There’s nothing better than being alive!

Atlas is such a wonderful name ー It makes me think of you, you know? Someone who carries others worries like it’s the world on their shoulders. They’re not that big, I promise. You can carry them in the palm of your hand, on the tip of your finger. Your own worries can be worn as a hat, maybe a scarf. Worn in the right conditions, they’re helpful, good, even. But in the wrong weather, constricting and annoying and troublesome.

Now I feel lightened in my heart!