I know he isn't the first
And he won't be the last
But that boyish smile devastates me every time
And I'm not one for talk
Thoughts are scarce when they're directed at him
I'm scarce around him
The silence teases my insecurities
An insecure girl too insecure to handle her own insecurities
So I know there isn't a fantasy to chase
That he'll never be mine
And God she looks better with him than I ever could
The mischief in her eyes matches his
They'd be perfect
But it was nice last night when we were imperfect
The sweet tinge of flavor on my tongue, followed by a forced swallow. Knowing that I'm going to taste it all again when it all comes out.
A conscious unconsciousness.
"Has anyone told you you look beautiful today?" him casually, platonically
"You probably told that to everyone on set" me confused, amused
"No, like as an artist I appreciate beauty [etc. etc.]" him
I felt flattered but still keep trying to figure out what he meant even though he already told me.
"bleeding out the screens"
"we're good at making dystopias but not aspirations"
"sci-fi = fears of past mixed with wonders of the future"
"we existed like that"
I introduced Natalie to Halsey on the bus ride back from The 1975 concert.
Today, we went to go see her in concert and it was fucking amazing.
And so it must be better than I think it is 💕
I said something I didn’t mean and I don’t want people to use it to define me. Ironically, I was talking about finding success/validation within yourself and how being a filmmaker/storyteller is at odds with that idea because you’re creating content for others.
I want others to get my creations because they are a part of me. Because if they get what I make, they get me.
But my classmates rebutted with the idea that you have to love what you’re making first before you can expect others to love it. Therefore, you loving your work is validation in itself.
I think we’re both right but I feel like I came off wrong.
"I'm afraid so. You're entirely bonkers. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."