bonjour bisous.
May 14, 2012

a post.

“Every day, you fail. Every day, you fail. Every day, you disappoint me.”

***

“Yes, the green beans were cooked well. Speaking of well, do you feel well, Chey?”
[heart starts pounding, breathing increases, nervous energy starts flowing]
“Yes?”
“Are you sure? I mean, you know, are you well.”

[a long pause, trying to sort out which answer won’t result in my mother saying hurtful words and I break down again]

“Yes? I feel fine. I’m well.”

“Cheyenne, we’re worried. You sleep all the time. I walk by and you start crying, but you never tell me why. You can’t remember anything. You seem so out of it.”

*** 

Should I be well when my mother hates every single thing I do?

May 12, 2012
I’ve been helping my cousin move these past few days (which means I can dance around my room all I please now), and I’ve been imagining my future French apartments. I actually only really like the ceilings and coziness of this picture, but it made me dream of my little Parisian apartment even more. And to think I turned down an opportunity to live and go to school there :/

I’ve been helping my cousin move these past few days (which means I can dance around my room all I please now), and I’ve been imagining my future French apartments. I actually only really like the ceilings and coziness of this picture, but it made me dream of my little Parisian apartment even more. And to think I turned down an opportunity to live and go to school there :/

(Source: buddhainteriors, via breathe-s-l-o-w)