oh.

My name is tala
My mind is completely disorganized.
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  • firsttimeuser:

“I spent a great deal of my life being ignored. I was always very happy that way. Being ignored is a great privilege. That is how I think I learnt to see what others do not see and to react to situations differently. I simply looked at the world, not really prepared for anything.” — Saul Leiter

    firsttimeuser:

    “I spent a great deal of my life being ignored. I was always very happy that way. Being ignored is a great privilege. That is how I think I learnt to see what others do not see and to react to situations differently. I simply looked at the world, not really prepared for anything.” — Saul Leiter

    3:33am

    They say this time is evil.
    The most vicious time of night.

    But mankind is sleeping right now
    So it doesn’t seem all that evil to me.

    Cheers to 333.

    her

    I’ve been sitting in the Jazzman’s booth for almost 3 hours

    Something inside me wanted to hear young Tala’s voice. I went to my archive and started reading posts from 2010. All rants. All so happy and grammar-less and tennis practice and food.

    I don’t know why.. but I started to tear up.

    Only 4 years ago, but it feels like I’m reading the blog of a little girl who lives across the street. Or a little girl passing by, hand-in-hand with her mother. A little girl fidgeting with her shoelaces, a little girl counting on her fingertips, a little girl with a light bookbag.
    A little girl sitting in the Jazzman’s booth for almost 3 hours.

    She is so lucky to have been happy. To still be happy. To be carefree, to be loving, to value and appreciate. 

    I’m scared of her future.

    I hope she continues down the right path.

    I don’t know how to protect her from heartbreak. 

    Why doesn’t she dream at night anymore?

    What happened to her love for writing?

    Why can’t I take care of her the way I used to?

    Why can’t I find the time to commit to her?

    Why haven’t I encouraged her to continue her hobbies?

    How can I spell reality for her, in s-o-f-t letters?


    I don’t ever want to let go of her hand.
    I don’t ever want to see her cry.


    I can’t even begin to express how much I love my parents.

    i pick the worst times to reminisce

    Should have known the mid a.m. messes with your mind, disintegrates the walls of apathetic muse. Should have known my thoughts are the loudest when the night is the quietest
    It scares me how fast time is traveling
    Because it’s all so..undetectable. One day, you’re sitting on a bench, licking the side of a quarter melted ice cream sandwich, only to throw out a wrapper into a frost-crusted trashcan. 
    One day, you’re meeting people for the first time, saying hello
    and then

    Somewhere, someone is closing their eyes. And when they open it, they won’t be there anymore.

    Time is the scariest, most powerful force.
    Slow, poisonous, healing


    i pick the worst times to reminisce.

    “I don’t wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your neck.”

    — the 1975. (via 7195km)