pressed between pages

i've been thinking a lot about how some songs feel like a physical place. like you can live inside them for three and a half minutes and it's more real than your actual life. the beatles do this to me constantly. a song will start and i'm just — somewhere else entirely.

also started a new book and i'm already devastated. it's the kind of writing where every sentence makes you stop and read it again. i keep folding corners even though i know i'm not supposed to.

i think the reason i keep a website like this is the same reason i pressed flowers between the pages of every book i owned as a kid. some things are just too good to let go of. i need to hold them somewhere permanent.

found a polaroid at a thrift shop today. it's not mine — it's someone's grandmother i think, standing in front of a christmas tree, laughing. i bought it. i don't know why. she looked so happy and i felt like she deserved to be kept somewhere safe.

made tea. sat by the window. it was grey outside and somehow perfect. those days where nothing happens but nothing needs to. i'm getting better at appreciating these. they used to make me anxious — needing to fill them. now they feel like exhaling.

played minecraft until very late. built something i'm genuinely proud of. nobody will ever see it but that's fine.