serotonin.

"the best way to cheer yourself is to cheer someone else up"
                      -mark twain


2019.

for once, my new year resolutions have nothing to do with exercise or quitting things or sticking to hobbies. those kinda goals never seem to work out.
this time, i guess its something special. it is to me.

the first few seconds of 2018 i told myself i'd do whatever it takes to become happier. over the next twelve months, maybe i did actually improve. but with that new found clarity i only just realized how truly unhappy others are. it's not unheard of; people afflicted with depression thinking that they bear the brunt of all suffering. but after eleven months of treatment, i'm starting to realize there's absolutely nothing that'll bring you a faster cure than to make people around you happy (the way you wish you felt). i'm gonna do that.

this post isn't monumental but the vow i'm making that's hidden underneath all of this is.

there's someone i love. someone i would give the whole world to if i could. someone for whom i'd sacrifice being happy just so they'd feel happy. i'm young and it's so so typical of us to think this kinda love lasts.most of the time it doesnt, i know that.

thats not my focus though, none of that is. stripping away experience and statistics, i know for sure there is nothing i wouldn't do for them. therefore this whole year is for them.

i want them to be happy. to see things the way i started seeing it the moment i met them. it's gonna be so so tough but its okay. i'd stay up days and days if that's what they needed. i have no clue what the next twelve years hold for us, for them, for me, for anyone. but there's some sort of comfort in that cluelessness; knowing that it's mine for the taking. nothing's written in stone, it really isn't.

this day in twelve months; you're gonna be reading this. i don't know what's happened because all of it feels surreal right now. i hope everything's worked out the way you wanted it to.
if it hasn't, it's okay.

because it always turns out to be okay. 

his personal paparazzi.

''pictures flashed on her in sudden color, too much color, shocking color, the color that leaps out of black when lightning strikes at night"
                                 -thomas harris, the silence of the lambs.



flashback. flashback. flashback.

the picture of flashback mary on the runway scared him to death; he threw away all of his setting powders, bought new ones, threw them away too. no setting powder for him. cutting back to the mess in front of him on the bathroom counter, the vanity mirror magnified it twice. no setting powder for the first time and he blames it on the brands with no consideration for low quality cameras.

but he looks at the polaroid in his hand. absolutely no flashback. his white coat showed up well, each strand of fur stood out with the camera flash hitting them different ways. there were clumps here and there, nothing too drastic because he knows with fur coats comes great need to brush the tangles away. he knows all too well about tangles.

his gold highlight caught the light of the cars driving by. they stopped by the highway, took a little detour a kilometer left into a field. the only source of light was a rundown grocery store (a liminal space). although the picture turned out well, he owes it to his partner's penchant for grain and good film. nobody expected anything to actually show up but here it was, polaroid in his hand.

his skin tone was tainted orange. a little bit of tan, it seemed like, so he didn't mind. the lighting, or lack thereof, resulted in all of his blemishes vanishing. no flashback and natural photoshop; he couldn't have asked for more. he didn't know how photography worked, that's what his partner was there for. his job was to pose. but the juxtaposition between the backdrop of the highway and his white coat stood out to him the way his right foot was positioned; tilted to the left but heels straight; planted in a position yet with little deviation.

his hair was pink, it threw tints of orange back at him through the polaroid- a result of l.e.d headlights back on the highway. it lead down to his neck, almost forming a mullet. his adam's apple was highlighted making it seem a lot more protruded than it did in the mirror. his jaw was strong; it's shadows barely lessened the glaring highlight on his neck.

the slope of his nose threw shadows on the left side of his face, his eyes still twinkly- a feature all his photographers seemed to love. the blush worked its charm, complementing his hair color. the dip between his nose bridge and his eye socket was dark, his eyebrows bordered it while the groove of skin under his eyebags ended it. there were pieces of flying hair; a windswept look on a night with no wind, only dry and damaged hair could do that. he ran his hands through his hair as acknowledgment for the damage done to it.

his eyes trailed back to the polaroid gripped tightly between his fingers, it was creasing. he lightened his grip and tried to straighten the little dips as he stared again at his face on the film. the area where his ear lobe and neck met was hazy. the long chain of his earring was the only thing he could see in clarity over there. the silver caught the tiniest bits of light as well. the rings and the chains of his three piercings formed an intricate pattern of silver in the dark. he looked carefully.

his hand trailed to the border of the polaroid, thumbing away at a sentence in black marker.

''19.4'' it read. a little heart embellished to the side. he tucked it away in his pocket, patting it twice as if to turn the key in the lock halfway one more time than needed.

he walked away and all we could see were the scuffed louboutin heels marking the marbled floor. 

movement.

"we didnt need dialogue. we had faces!'
                  -sunset boulevard, 1950


if there's anything that's stuck in my brain from 6th grade science, it's conduction, convection and radiation. three types of heat.
to be honest, i never bothered to actually remember the definitions or even try to understand them. but i do remember that one carries, one transfers and the other,,,radiates.

four years later and i still can't figure out why that's stuck with me for so long. since then, i've learnt way more unnecessary stuff. i've derived equations for refraction through glass slabs, i've done many questions on snell's law, i've learnt the theory behind the tyndall effect but there's really nothing i remember as clearly as those three words in my sixth grade science reader.

they were right below each other, bold arial. there were three diagrams in a row showing how each type of heat differs from each other. and i don't know where i'm going with this but it's become an integral part of my memory.

there's lots of vivid memories like that.