“I shoot for the moon. And this kindhearted earth, of which I’m undoubtedly grateful for, allowed me to land on a bed of stars. Light headed. Even in the worst of circumstances.”
I am one to think highly of things, to expect the best out of every situation to the point of stupid sense and standards. I shoot for the moon. And this kindhearted earth, of which I’m undoubtedly grateful for, allowed me to land on a bed of stars. Light headed. Even in the worst of circumstances.
But even if I believe in the grand scheme of things, I am not ashamed to tell you that I do laugh and find my joy in the simplest of experiences:
When my cats curl up into balls of cuteness and yawn; my dog when she licks my hand and playfully bites it, our good colorful mix of giddy fish that acts like a street gang and mysteriously kills off new entrants. They’re a pretty tight hood, bruh. (More “Animal Planet” stories soon.)
Or Papa’s terrible jokes during breakfast and my siblings rolling their eyes along with every punch line; Mama’s weird attachment to her “Tupperwares” and soft linens.
Or my friends’ daily tales of commute fiasco or K-Drama obsession shared over Messenger and Viber.
Little things do count. Memories over matter.
Last weekend, my best friends and I frolicked around Pinto Art Museum for half a day’s worth of art gazing and camera shenanigans. The latter slightly outweighed the place’s purpose, I must admit. Because, girls.
Kidding aside, though, we like to freeze moments like these. Carefree laughter over an old combination of stupid jokes and sensible topics.
And did I say we had a planned theme for an outfit? Let alone a set of (confiscated) crown props? Embarrassingly, that’s a fun yes.
Florals for girls, huh, groundbreaking.
Yet again, memories over matter.
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