Beach House, once again.

(via hippiesaredead)

Yes, I saw Beach House for the third time last night; I refuse to break this addiction. They were the second opening band for The Walkmen (playing after Johnny and the Moon). Really great, as always. As were The Walkmen and Johnny and the Moon, but, come on, I was there for Beach House.

I went to the show with C. I was a bit apprehensive about going with him, at first. It’d been weeks since we last saw or spoke to each other and I was afraid it’d feel like we were strangers and that it’d be awkward. But it didn’t feel that way at all. It almost felt as though things hadn’t changed, though they obviously have.

I won’t deny that I still have feelings for him. But rather than feeling any sense of longing or sadness when I was with him (or even today, the day after), I felt acceptance, and happiness, because I really do enjoy his company.

After the show, we went back to his place where we made pasta as he strummed on the guitar. Then I went home.

It was fun.

Changes

Over the Thanksgiving break, I was leafing through some old entries in my journal, written around this time last year. The tone of the entries were very sad—I was still mourning the loss of a many-yeared relationship and there was a theme of loneliness throughout many of those entries.

It’s pretty astounding how much has changed since then. It felt nice to be able to write an entry about how close I’ve grown to many people and being involved with a nice guy (who is not quite my boyfriend) with soft hair and who makes me laugh. In tone and content, it was a huge contrast to last year’s entry.

It’ll be interesting to see what the coming weeks and months will bring. I still can’t believe it’s already December.

It's not me, it's you

In spite of these little recent discoveries that became progressively negative, and that have momentarily hurt my feelings, I’m feeling pretty good. It was for the best, really, these unearthings. Hearing the responses from my cousin and friends, people who can look at this more objectively, has enabled me to finally grasp this state of understanding and shed these feelings of inadequacy.

Finally, closure and full apprehension. Good riddance.

La fin

I stopped by to grab my books last night when I knew he wouldn’t be home. I no longer wanted to confront him—I had nothing to say.

I felt nervous, actually; it felt weird walking up those steps again and then stepping into that apartment, like I was trespassing. His roommate answered, appearing unassuming, friendly and not letting on that he knew anything about what had transpired. I told him why I was there and he let me in. I expected him to follow me so as to make sure I did not steal anything or attempt to start a fire, but he didn’t, and I didn’t.

I had to rummage a bit to find some of my books—his room was in its usual sty-condition, though with my waned affections for its owner, it was more unsightly this time around. I neither bothered to scan the place for ‘girly things’, as my sister instructed me to do, nor did I try to uncover reasons as to why things could have ended so abruptly and unceremoniously. I no longer cared. Once I gathered all of my books I headed out. I wanted to tell the roommate that I enjoyed knowing him for a while, but in my haste I forgot. Instead, I thanked him, said ‘bye!’, and shut the door behind me.

And that was that.

Le temps qui passe

I can’t believe it’s April. It feels as though the new year had just begun, sometimes. And I can hardly believe the quick transition between March and April—hardly a thing happened* and yet time flew on by. Pretty soon it will be summer, then fall, and who knows what the coming days, weeks and months will bring.

*Oh, I lied. Quite a bit actually did happen; some of it was good, but a lot of it was sad and a bit heartbreaking.

Dear Future Me

I came across this letter I had written to myself about two months ago. I had written it with the intention of sending it to myself through futureme.org in a year or two, when it will be sufficiently misplaced within the recesses of my mind.

Reading it now seems so strange, but not so much so that it feels completely foreign to me (it was only two months ago, after all). I decided to send it to my future self anyway, along with an update.

Amazed by the resiliency of it all.

New you

I have a lot of plans for the new year; there are loads of things I want to do and accomplish. What better time than now (new year, change of circumstance) to start anew and do the things you’ve long wanted to do, and be the better daughter, sister, friend, person you’ve always wanted to be.