ׄ (@Ydrim) header
ׄ (@Ydrim) profile picture

It's YR.

Lovelvette's
Joined February 2015
Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)Photo by ׄ (@Ydrim)
Pinned Tweet
1
7,732
Merayakan 12 tahun bersama di tempat yang dipenuhi tawa, musik, dan kenangan terasa begitu istimewa. Terima kasih untuk setiap momen yang telah kita lalui bersama, dan semoga akan selalu ada lebih banyak cerita indah di perjalanan berikutnya. Happy 12th Anniversary 🩷💛💙💚💜
2
2
2
153
Can i come to you and stare at you like this?
7
1
624
𐙚 ╱ Is it the lighting or it's the birthday glow people tend to talk about, but, look at me.
250
͏͏͏͏
My kind of 5th March, to 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳.
233
She's 26. ♡
1
175
Growth is real, though. I cry in better lighting now. I journal. I set boundaries. Sometimes i even drink enough water, and another day just filled myself with cups of coffee, again.
1
114
I’ve survived heartbreak, late-night existential spirals, 2 AM snacks, making musics I never released, and that one cringey text i should’ve never sent… all to arrive at this birthday.
1
85
Love myself for that.
78
Ahh, so this is what it feels like… to remember and long for the different selves we’ve been in all our quiet little eras.
144
Out of nowhere today, something nudged me to open my gallery and scroll far until I stumbled on old photos of myself. Can’t say for sure… maybe I had just entered my twenties? Or maybe not yet. But what I do know is I started missing that version of me.
162
Switzerland, 2018.
134
Life indeed.
1
126
Always walking hand in hand with time, feet moving forward, mind making plans, heart clinging to memories. I’m not sure which leads first, but they’re all constantly racing, competing to take control. And all I can do… is endure, and make it through.
103
Wrapped filming like it’s a love letter I finally had the courage to fold and tuck away. There’s something quiet about endings that don’t scream—they hum. Like soft jazz through an old diner radio, or the final bloom of a flower that never asked to be seen but bloomed anyway.
95
The air smelled like fake petals and something sweeter. Maybe it was the cake. Maybe it was the kind of joy that doesn’t post itself on loudspeakers.
1
120
Either way, I held it in my hands and smiled like I’d rehearsed this moment in my head a hundred times but still didn’t expect it to feel this warm.
86