ontheblog&beyond

Adults are horrible people. They are laced in the misfortune of their past and the yearning of their childhood.   All seems doable until a mundane fact swoops in to turn their train of thought into a sea of turmoil. The relationship with their brain is both too complicated and yet too simple. Yes and no answers are always laced with explanation, even when it is not required. Love is a fleeting emotion overcome by the desire of stability. Feet now planted firmly on the floor after being swung in the air.  Once laced with the depressants of liquored lust and sweet nothings.  Bombarded by the realities of documented lies and losses.  Unacknowledged endeavors now keep us up at all hours of the day. The nights then filled to the brim with unactioned conversations. We tumble around the 'will they won't they' trope. Until the clichéd unrequited love looms overhead bursting the bubble that is your ego.  Black holes seem like appropriate resting places. We're made to fee...

it's here, that dreaded odd number that swims by its lonesome. not old enough to be an adult, but not young enough to see the world through rose coloured glasses, doesn't sound all that fun to say either does it? during lockdown the doorbell going off with deliveries has never been such an exhilarating rush of endorphins, although their longevity is too short lived as the days continue treat yo self (lockdown parks and rec upgrade) is a dangerous game to play with your skin, but your tastebuds will thank you answering the landline as my local Police Department will always make up for those delivery lost endorphins, especially when it's the bank calling long lasting traditions being ceased is a real jolt of realisation, adulthood is hard and sadly friendships rely too much on proximity  yoga with adriene can make all the tightness in your body and in your chest settle, so be glad that you've got humans who keep you accountable for that please remember to insert your corr...