#105 A list of my hopes for you

I hope you walk into every space and occupy it like a cat.

Dearest,

lucyalmeybirdart

A post shared by Lucy Almey Bird (@lucyalmeybirdart)

I woke up this morning with this irresistible urge to list down my hopes.

A few years ago, I read a book by Iain S. Thomas called, 300 Things I hope. It is a listicle of hopes and the most delightful read you can find.

I owe the inspiration to Iain and would love to share my list with you. I hope it brings you a smile.

1. I hope it all works out.

2. I hope one day soon you stop hitting the snooze button and finally get to see the sunrise in your new city. (I hope you write a poem later that day.)

3. I hope you find comfort in being with other people. I hope you find joy in being alone.

4. I hope you never send the right text to the wrong person.

   I hope you send the wrong text to the right person.

5. I hope on some nights when you wake up scared, you can still walk across the room and sleep between your parents.

   On nights you can’t, I hope you have a friend on video call watching you go back to sleep.

6. I hope you share a sunset with someone who thinks your mind is beautiful. I hope there is more than one sunset.

7. I hope you walk into a room to find people talking good things about you.

8. I hope there is a glitch and you get ad-free music without spending on premium.

illustratxy

A post shared by ✨ minimalist illustration✨ (@illustratxy)

1. I hope you find a good movie to watch in the first five seconds of scrolling.

2. I hope you are never misunderstood except for times when you are mean.

   I hope you are never mean.

3. I hope a stranger never ruins your name.

4. I hope your pet lives forever. I hope your plant never dies.

5. I hope your annoying colleague’s mic stops working two minutes into the meeting.

   I hope all your meetings are emails.

6. I hope she texts you right back.

   I hope she calls you when she sees you typing for over a minute.

7. I hope you know no one is worth breaking your heart for.

   I hope you have friends for the times when you forget.

8. I hope you buy that dress you keep stalking but think is a “little too much”.

9. I hope you master the resting bitch face and the death stare.

10. I hope you never run out of water mid-shampoo, or worse mid-poop.

    I hope you never run out of poop.

11. I hope you look good in a hat. I hope you wear them even if you don’t.

12. I hope you stand up for someone.

13. I hope you come to forgive someone you thought you would never forgive.

    I hope you feel no need to be friends with them again.

    sayu.go

    

    A post shared by • Sarenur • (@sayu.go)

14. I hope you are appreciated for all that you do. I hope you are celebrated for who you are.

15. I hope you walk into every space and occupy it like a cat.

16. I hope you get foot rubs, ear nibbles, and nose kissies. I hope you give them back with abandon.

17. I hope you never go to bed angry.

18. I hope you have someone to send this list to.

    I hope someone sends this list to you.

---

Some verses:

#1 Excerpts from Sanctuary by Jean Valentine

You       who I don’t know       I don’t know how to talk to you   

—What is it like for you there?

Here ... well, wanting solitude; and talk; friendship—
The uses of solitude. To imagine; to hear.
Learning braille. To imagine other solitudes.
But they will not be mine;
to wait, in the quiet; not to scatter the voices—

What are you afraid of?

What will happen. All this leaving. And meetings, yes. But death.   
What happens when you die?

…

What do you dread?

What happens when you die?

What do you dread, in this room, now?

Not listening. Now. Not watching. Safe inside my own skin.
To die, not having listened. Not having asked ... To have scattered   
life.

Yes I know: the thread you have to keep finding, over again, to   
follow it back to life; I know. Impossible, sometimes.

#2 By Rudy Francisco

They will push you away, tell you
to leave, but have no idea how good
you are at following instructions.

When you vanish and your ghost
turns messiah, moves the stone,
on the 3rd day dressed in fond
memories and plays ressurection
with their smile.

they will ask where you went,
if you will come back and why
you gave up so easily.

as if they didn’t own the voice
that requested your disappearance.

They now know solitude doe not
scare people like us

and our absence is something
we are not afraid to give
to those who call for it.

---

Me playing the piano

Some tunes I smiled to this week:

---

mollyburford

A post shared by Molly Burford (@mollyburford)

Goodness to walk away with from the nook:

• Read: This thread on why poetry matters

  chenchenwrites

  

  A post shared by Chen Chen (@chenchenwrites)

• Watch & vibe:

• Practice:

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or,

See you next Sunday, 

Love, Riya

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