juneygram Most men will never text you the things you'd want them to. It's as if they're wired this way. Seriously. You can compose the most beautiful, thought-provoking text message and you'd still get a one-word reply. Maybe two words if you're lucky.
The text you'd send is so heartfelt that you'd re-read it over and over. And you'd look at it again for the 4th time and almost cry because it's so exquisite. You pour your heart and soul and you even throw in some inside jokes in there to maybe brighten up his day, assuming he isn't having a good one.
and then you send it.
A huge weight is lifted, the sun rises, and the dark clouds passes over. Three minutes pass. Maybe four. Just kidding, Say thirty-seven minutes passed (but who's counting?) and your phone vibrates.
NEW MESSAGE.

This is it. You give yourself a pep-talk. You reach out to hold some stranger's hand and you don't even care if they think it's awkward or if they slap you across the face -- none of it matters because you are about to read the most beautiful reply your eyes have ever laid on. So you swipe right and dial in your passcode. Deep breaths.
You read it and fuck. Damn it. That's it? You want to fling your phone across the Pacific Ocean.
This is what the text message SHOULD have said: "That was so beautiful, where have you been all my life? Can I please maybe buy you dinner and fall in love? Pick you up at 7." When in reality, this is what it actually said: "awe :)" I guess what I'm trying to say is, It's so hard to find the ground with most people. Someone has to be too invested on another while the other is highly strung up on something else. And while you become more educated in school and oddly acute to your surroundings, you also realize that some of your priorities aren't as important. And you also realize that sometimes, you don't like being successful by yourself. Some days are good, sure, but you'd want to come home and hand your trophy to your person. It sounds nice, doesn't it? But realize this too: the person you're losing your battery life to, the person you lost sleep over was never thinking about you.

How's that for "awe:)"
3d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram "He makes love to you after school one day and it’s so intense that you almost cry. Afterwards, you’ll know it’s over completely.

He breaks up with you the next day in a café near school. Start crying and stare at your croissant. Ask him to cry so you can know that he cared about you but he can’t or he won’t. Call him a piece of trash but then want to give him a hug. It’s all very devastating.

Call your friends. They come running to you and share their stories of heartbreak. They try to get you to eat ice cream and watch a romantic comedy but be like, 'No thanks, bye.' Your thoughts and reactions will scare you and you will have no idea you could be this crazy. Feel betrayed by your mind and wonder how this insanity ever lived inside of you, how these irrational behaviors could’ve been dormant until you got your heart broken for the first time. Now they’ve shown up as if to say, 'Oh hey! You thought you were normal and well-adjusted? J/K! Heartbreak: 1. You: 0.' Become obsessed with your ex-boyfriend and talk about him incessantly like it’s a nervous tic. By mentioning him at least a few times a day, he still exists and your relationship still happened. When you’re with your friends and you see a blue sky, say to them, 'My ex-boyfriend used to love blue skies.' You know you sound nuts but you can’t help it. You are sick, you are not well. YOU HAVE A DISEASE.

Hate your ex-boyfriend. Die from happiness if he ever took you back.

Getting over him is a slower process than you imagined. As time goes by, his name starts to mean less and less to you. You figure this is progress.

There’s no heartbreak quite like when you’re seventeen and you’ve realized someone could love you and then not love you. Just like that. No more love for you.

Wonder if it will ever hurt this bad again. Realize that it does but in more subtle ways. Heartbreak becomes a more controlled insanity in your twenties, a manageable illness.

Sometimes you almost miss the way it felt to get your heart broken for the first time by a boy. But not really. Not really at all."
3d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram We are standing in front of a Taco shack in the middle of downtown and I am trying to love you more. You are asking me what I want and I am freezing in my black jacket. But I don't hear anything you're saying and everything sounds like static and pointless translations under water. I feel young and I know that I will outgrow you. This is how I know that I'll never be able to love you more. Because I am too young for you and I am constantly convincing myself of your warmth whilst I shiver.
It's autumn now and we are eating outside a Japanese restaurant in Little Tokyo. I am with someone else, someone new, and it's autumn now and I am trying to love you more. I look at you deeply and I'm trying to point out the things that I like about you. I like your calloused hands and your shirt. "I usually don't dress up like this," you say. But I am too concentrated on how you prepared your outfit this morning and your eyes. Your eyes are light hazel and they glisten in the setting sun behind you. And I am too concentrated on something like your posture and how your legs are apart under the table. You bite into the apple pie toppled by some sweet brown sugar that we are sharing. But this is not enough. I am trying to love you more, but this is not enough. Someone please show me the answers in the back of the book so I wouldn't have to feel so fucking indifferent and defective all the time. But I am trying and I know that this is how love shouldn't work. I either got it for you and I don't. I am trying and I shouldn't have to try.

I am in my bedroom now. Still Autumn season and I am trying to love myself more. Saturday morning, my bed is made, and my journal entry from last night was left unfinished. Ghosts of our past shouldn't be this controlling. I think of the taco shack at 7th street, the lanterns at Little Tokyo, and all the people I was too nervous for. All the hands that never held me back and all the phone calls that were left unreturned. I am standing upright, looking at my reflection in front of a tilted mirror I set up the wrong way two years ago when I was dumb and nineteen. I am looking at my reflection in the mirror and I am trying to love myself more.
4d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram someday, your parents are going to die; it's the universal truth we've all accepted, as we too, shall pass on our own time. We've recognized it, it is embedded in our DNA. but when they do slip away into that forever unconsciousness, think of your parents as the strong-willed and courageous people. the father who used to carry you to bed when you were passed out on the couch at the age of 7. the mother who would sing to you in your sleep, the beautiful fairy with lotions and magic potions by her bedside table to keep you from getting sick.
At 7, your parents can do way more than you. they know higher math. they can hike higher mountains. they know how to balance a checkbook, repair things around the house, and talk about politics.
Then somehow, you're leaving home for college. you're free. stripped away from menacing eyes and shadows that stopped you from being stupid and reckless.

Fast forward a couple years more and you've graduated. you have suddenly morphed into a full and complete human being. one who knows how the world works and can pay their bills. have read some shit. fucked on some shit. cried for some shit.
You don't need your outfit laid out by your mother anymore. You don't need your father by the passenger seat telling you how to turn the wheels and where the hell the blinkers are.

Then you come home for thanksgiving. You're in your late twenties and you come home in a nice get up with your plus one. you realize that your parents don't know half the things you do and you notice their bald spots at the corner of your eye.
Their brains are mush and you're annoyed of them sometimes and damn it! why do they have to call you every 5 minutes?! and you hate yourself for feeling this way. because they're getting older faster than you are and you do a quick turn around and you kiss them by the cheek before you step out of the house you grew up in your whole. entire. life.
then suddenly you're responsible for your parent's life. they're feeble and their hair is falling all over the place. "gotcha!" says life. "it's your turn to make them feel safe." realize this. always doubt that you could be half the person your parents were to you.
6d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram In our last memory together,
I hold you.
You do not hold me back.
We are standing upright and I do not want to let go. “You have to move on,” you say.
It is 8:39 PM and I need to go, or I might miss my last train home. “You have to let me go,” you say. “There is nothing for you here.” And so I sob, I turn away, I clench my wrist and I do not know which hurts most – my stomach, my heart, or my entire body. I can no longer distinguish.
Eventually my arms gently loosen and I free you from my latch.
You walk me to your door and I remain silent.
You open it slowly and I whisk away.
Every inch of me wanted to look back at you, but god knows I wanted to be strong.
I get on the elevator and I then find myself back on ground level.
I exit the loft and out into 7th street.
I am bombarded with so much life and so much movement; the lights, the people passing by, the police cars chasing god knows who.
It is 8:52 PM.
And as I walk myself back to the train station, the same path I’ve walked for the past three months,
I think of our first memory together.

The very first day we met.
The 13th of October.
In this memory, you turn to me.
We are in your bed, I am looking up at your white and pasty ceiling in your loft in Downtown Los Angeles, and you turn to me.
And you call my name it feels like home.
6d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram "I have to think real hard if I want to remember my first love. It doesn’t come naturally anymore, time has killed the ability to feel things on command. Now if I want to recall our woozy sex at 5 a.m. and holding your body until I felt like I had sufficiently soaked enough of you into my bones, I have to concentrate. I have to close my eyes, play the right song, and transport myself there. It’s like buying an airline ticket to a deserted part of your brain. 'No one goes here anymore,' your brain tells you quizzically. 'Are you sure you want to visit?'
Yes. It’s important that I never forget you, although I have a feeling that it’s not entirely up to me. Time dictates what gets remembered and what gets left behind. I’m at the mercy of the clocks. Sure, I can make suggestions and forceful nudges but at the end of the day, I’m powerless.
I grieved my first love until there was literally nothing left to grieve. I grieved the shit out of it until it became a fucking embarrassment. 'Wait,' I would scream. 'Don’t take this away from me just yet! There’s still a little portion I haven’t mourned yet!' I thought that this was just the natural way, this was how you got people out of your system. And it was. It’s that way for your first love and then maybe your second. Then a funny thing happens and everything stops making you wince. You can stop going through this life feeling like a raw nerve, someone who could cry at the slightest provocation and subsequently spend the entire day in bed. This is what they call maturity, I suppose, and in many ways I’m thankful for it. I’m sad to see my first love disappearing because for a long time it was a big part of my identity. I was someone with a broken heart and that’s all I had interest in being.
But now that’s not the case, now I’m just someone who has a collection of exes. I’m not allowed to hold on to everything anymore; my brain has pushed stuff out.
It’s okay, it’s okay. Because only when you forget do you allow yourself to remember something new."
7d

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram I want to remember you always, but I know that nothing lasts forever. 20 years from now, your voice will be long forgotten and everything we've had and done will be part of my distant memory. but for now, I want to remember you always. 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram "I think about him sometimes. He had the most beautiful laugh." 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram annoying ass girls in california that counted down the days till' summer, how do you like the heat now, huh 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram There are a lot of things I regret. one of them is deleting some of my photos from this Instagram account. my high school graduation from two years ago, photos of my dates with rapacious men, and photos of scenic views with melancholic and original captions that seemed fitting at the time. I say this because my Mac somehow rebooted and all my photos from middle school to now have been erased. iCloud can't seem to retrieve any of my data and it sucks.
Anyway, now that technology has evolved, the authenticity of a photo has slowly diminished. with all the editing apps we can use to alter a photo and a face, no one truly knows if any of it is the real thing. It's so easy to delete and retake, who exactly are we trying to please?

Take me back to the times when you can share an actually copy of a photo. times when you can slide it in a blank slot of a photo album. times when "ew, delete that" wasn't the most common line shared between two friends with hand-held cameras. Times when you had to drive down to the nearest store to develop your film. Of course we still have that, but it'll never be the same.
And sometimes, I scroll down and see the photos I've taken last year or two years ago. times when I was tremendously happy and times when I was not. photos of LA taken with the person I was once infatuated with. times when I had to let him go, times when I struggled with doing so, and times when I actually and finally did.
so do that. look back sometimes. don't forget to appreciate the people that are still with you; they are the backbone of your throwback thursdays. never delete the pictures that will always mean a lot to you. a scar is a scar.
look through some past memories whenever you're ready and see how far you've come. pick a photo you remember taking and say, "yeah, I survived that."
2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram “Of course, you never really forget anyone, but you certainly release them. You stop allowing their history to have any meaning for you today. You let them change their haircut, let them move, let them fall in love again. And when you see this person you have let go, you realize that there is no reason to be sad. The person you knew exists somewhere, but you are separated by too much time to reach them again.” 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram when you choose a life partner, you’re choosing a lot of things, including your parenting partner and someone who will deeply influence your children, your eating companion for about 20,000 meals, your travel companion for about 100 vacations, your primary leisure time and retirement friend, your career therapist, and someone whose day you’ll hear about 18,000 times. 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram I think what hurts the most is when you give your all to someone. you're there for them through thick and thin, never leaving their side. then one day, they fall out of love and they just give up on you. they don't even fight for you or do their best to make things right again. the one thing you never had the heart to do, they did with no hesitation. 2w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram I took this picture many months ago, lone adventures in downtown as per usual. I like to walk around LA at dusk and take pictures of everything I see to alleviate whatever pain I am feeling. There's a sense of peace in the collective chaos that surrounds you, especially when you're walking the streets you proudly call home. I remember staring at these passing cars for awhile, wondering how I'll heal a few months ahead. He took root in my brain for a long while and eventually I had to let him go.
The truth is that if you keep your head up and have faith, you will eventually find someone who will do you more good than all the harm your past has caused you. / “You will fall in love with someone who’s cold and always seemingly pushing you away. When all is said and done, they will be forever known as the one person you couldn’t get to love you. Unfortunately, it will hurt and sting worse than the good ones, the ones that chopped up your meat for you and picked out an eyelash from your eye and were nice to your mother, because love often feels like a game we need to win.”
3w
  •   bobra52n Wonderful 3w
  •   cilaschick AMAZING 3w
  •   vicki_whicker Love this. I used to live in LA. You have captured it. 3w
  •   viajohnn Killing it. 3w
  •   alessiord Beautiful sunset my friend! 3w
  •   ahmedsalym Beautiful 3w
  •   whattheeyan "Love often feels like a game we need to win." Nothing else can describe that feeling perfectly than what you just said. Good pictures dude, I love the content that follows with it even more. 3w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram the saddest thing that hits me sometimes is when I'm laughing with someone I whole-heartedly adore and I realize that this moment will eventually be a distant memory and that this person might not be laughing with me or holding my hand down the line 3w
  •   molmiller Best captions and photos 3w
  •   alessiord Don't think like that, it is so sad 3w
  •   sherrispeck @juneygram just soak in the lines on their face and remember the smell..take it into your heart and you will always have..trust me..i know. 3w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram y so alone 3w

» LOG IN to write comment.

juneygram "But he chose her. The truth is
that sometimes you only get to 
see the sunset from behind a 
window. The truth is that even
perfectly matched hearts often
end up in different hands." 3w

» LOG IN to write comment.

Normal June Tegon
juneygram I hope you meet me when I'm that person, so you can forget who I am today. 3w

» LOG IN to write comment.