Posts

Showing posts from November, 2012
i.
- you don’t seem like the type to need someone, he said.
i don’t -
- but everyone needs someone, he continued.
shut up, boy. i don’t want to be vulnerable. -
(you are saying the words every girl wants to hear from a boy but,
but, i fail to be every girl.)
ii.
why are you caring so much? -
- because you are part of my life, and part of this universe.
(you are so disgustingly cliched, and your words sound so real but i do not feel safe like i should.)

iii.
you don’t understand. (i want to cry) i’ve only got ten months; he won’t remember me. -
- what makes you think he won’t remember you? i remember you.
(you don’t get it, do you?)
no, i don’t know how to bring my heart peace -

(if i did, i would’ve done it already)
I've not been this happy in ages.And it feels so amazing to have met such a wonderful person as him.I am happy.Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.9

I don’t think there’s anything sadder than when two people are meant to be together and something intervenes.

I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me, you’d better go.

It's like
you took a
small piece
of me
and tucked
it away
in the
nooks
of your
ribcage.

And I'm
convinced
that somewhere
along the
line;
I too,
found a
piece of you.

hello there, beautiful.

you are beautiful: whether you choose to believe it or not, it is your choice. if you think that you’re ugly, you will feel ugly, when the truth is, you’re not. don’t let anyone tell your otherwise.you are not ugly: other peoples opinions on how you look, the way that you dress, etc should have no affect on you. you’re not ugly. you are unique and you are beautiful and handsome in your own way. don’t let the opinions of those who don’t matter to you personally, make you feel horrible about yourself.Don’t self harm, you are lovely person. You have a heart, you care about other people. You know, we all push people away, especially when we need them the most. I know, I get it, I have been there. But that’s life and if they really cared as much about you as they said, then they would stay by your side no matter what. What will self harming solve? It will only cause you more physical pain. I get it, I get how self harming can release some sort of adrenaline rush and I get tha…

Death of Stars

Image
I look in the mirror and do not see myself. I see a girl with eyes who have seen too much and felt to little; a girl with a waterfall of salon-flotsam hair and eye circles like coffee rings. I am always thinking if I could find the zipper to this skin (I was never a wolf, I only wore its furs in hopes of being as fierce as it was tender) I would pry this costume off and i could finally be myself, because we are always more than we think we are, but I can’t get over the rotting body my dwindling soul has been condemned to.
Image
1.
I never really took
the time to realize
that I have nothing to give
but my words. 2.
Words are silly.
Words hurt.
Words build you up.
Words break you down. 3.
When you say one thing
too many times,
it loses its value.
Same with people. 4. When a phrase becomes
more common,
it becomes less
treasured. 5.
I’m only noticed for
my words, but that only
works for so long
before I lose my value too. 6.
But I’m still trying
to figure out if
I was ever treasured
to begin with.

Here’s what you tell someone who wants to commit suicide:

The moment the gunshot goes through your head, you'll wish you hadn't done it.
When the chair leaves your feet, you'll struggle to get on solid ground again.

You tell them they’ve been burning bridges for so long and maybe now it’s time to just find their way across. They can use a cane or a walker or a goddamn police escort, but they’ve got to get over that bridge.

But don’t force them to get over that bridge if they don’t want to.
Never push them any further than they want to go.
Be gentle.
Be patient.
Be kind.
Love them.
Stay with them and spend time with them and let them cry. And don’t you dare tell them to dry up those tears. Let them fall, and then you give them a list of one-hundred-fifty goddamn reasons why they’re too beautiful for tears.

Try to make them believe it; show them how much you care.
Tell them you’ll light one candle for every night they keep themselves alive.
Tell them you hope by the end of the year you’ll have a house burning brighter than t…
I'm tired.
And I may have lost my words.
I am sorry.
Please give me time.

i love you.
one day, words that you could’ve said would be the background noise in your head and by that time she’ll be long gone, breathing in white noise because the air was too thin, and her laughter would always be broken, but that was okay because winter had shown her that you don’t have to be whole, and somedays being whole is bastardised, because when you are not whole you can still let things in and let things go with every blink of her eyes but when you are full you may just burst, and that was all of this, all of this was just alright with her.

— Morrissey

"I know it’s over
And it never really began
But in my heart it was so real"

Hello

I just linked my instagram and twitter here in my description, so feel free to follow me alright
I'll tell you another secret, this one for your own good.

You may think that the past has something to tell you.
You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backwards, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places.
You may think there's something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of.

But I know the truth: I know from the nights of coldness.
I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken.
It's hopeless.
The past is nothing but a weight.
It will build inside you like a stone.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do - the only thing - is run.
you’re not allowed to be sad because other people are sadder than you
you’re not allowed to call yourself fat because other people are fatter than you
you’re not allowed to call yourself thin because other people are thinner than you
you’re not allowed to have an eating disorder because other people have no food
you’re not allowed to be you because society won’t let you

My life is full of regret and fuckups and unsaid goodbyes; unpayable debts and people that squirm their way into my rotten little heart; and well wishes and wolf kisses.

If I let you in, you’ll just want out. If I tell you the truth, you’d vie for a lie. If I spilt my guts, it would make a mess we can’t clean up. If you follow me, you will only get lost. If you try to closer, we’ll only lose touch.
Image

When a writer falls in love with another writer, imagine an explosion.

Like Francium and water.


Expect a collision of some kind, a sudden break, a slowing of two worlds until the spinning stops and there would be no one else but the two of them. You would see them, one reading a novel while another is writing— what a beautiful sight. They would be sitting far from each other but stealing glances from across the room.

Expect love letters written in long hand, tucked in the pocket of pants, romantic candlelight dinners, a football stadium full of roses. Imagine this because when a beautiful mind meets another beautiful mind, it would be like sun meeting stars on a windy day.

When a writer falls in love with another writer, they would be a poem that would inspire oceans’ waves crashing to the shore and sunglasses reflecting on the rear-view mirror with hair flowing against the wind and arms embracing salty air. They would be tangled limbs and tattoos on hipbones, red nail-paints and morning lovemaking. They would be free birds who know home, a…

- Charles Bukowski

great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper.

good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.
I am so so so so so very dearly truly sorry that i have not been updating much lately.

I'm taking my GCEs right now but it'll be over on the 16th of November and I promise I'll be back then :3

i love you all.

Hold on, stay strong, and never stop fighting.

A list of good things

daiseslullabiescrisp winter aircookiespopsicles on a hot summers daydiscovering places you come to lovecucumber sandwichesreading a good bookmittensnew booksold bookschristmas socksfinding pennieschocolatespackages
Image

You’re beautiful and sad. Just like your eyes. You’re like a song that I heard when I was a little kid but forgot I knew until I heard it again.

Image

- “Blue and Green,” James Galvin

We don’t belong to each other.
We belong together.
Some poems
belong together to prove the intentionality of subatomic particles.

Some poems eat with scissors.
Some poems are like kissing a
porcupine.
God, by the way, is disappointed in some of your recent
choices.
Some poems swoop.
When she said my eyes were
definitely blue, I said, How can you see that in the dark?
How can
you not? she said, and that was like some poems.
Some poems are
blinded three times.
Some poems go like death before dishonor.

Some poems go like the time she brought cherries to the movies;
later a heedless picnic in her bed.
and i learnt that if you want to let something
unribbon, be free, you
should tell it to the world and its
winds, because then it is no longer a
secret of your heart; hope like
perfume no
longer trapped in your arteries. so
sing it from your bones and you shall
be free.