Showing posts from August, 2013
Things started to get hard for you baby, you became a problem to be solved, you were set on fire and thrown around and burned out now they’re clutching your ashes and sighing over your enigma, they read your diary and they put your in shoes you hadn’t even seen let alone owned they took pictures of you and made you sadder and thinner, they turned you into a deer, they turned you into Bambi and laughed when you tried to walk, harder when you fell and the boys, oh the boys, they love you now that you’re broken they adore you now you’ve lost yourself and your footing they want your body and your breasts and your hips but more your mind is a chest cavity that got pulled apart in war and you’re hollowed out like an easter egg and now baby, they want to live in you, make a home out of the place where your aspirations were, put preachers in your spaces, put sex in your spaces, put questions in your spaces because you are an animated doll, you’re sad like cancer, deflated and heaped up, …
'Think of how you love me,' she whispered. 'I don’t ask you to love me always like this, but I ask you to remember.'
'You’ll always be like this to me.'
'Oh no; but promise me you’ll remember.' Her tears were falling. 'I’ll be different, but somewhere lost inside me there’ll always be the person I am tonight.'
You know, they say that there is a part
of the human chest that if you strike it hard enough
the person’s heart explodes. This sounds like such a lie
that I have to believe it’s the truth. If I were science,
I’d never tell anyone where this place is. If I were science,
I’d have named this place after you

Hokkaido, Japan

“I am so tired of falling in love with people who think so little of themselves. And I am absolutely exhausted with the number of people trying to convince them that they are not who they think they are. What is so wrong with saying, “You frustrate me to the point of death but I love you anyway. You drive me up the walls but I love you anyway. Punch that wall. I’ll still love you. Tell me that your heart is ugly. I’ll still love you. Yeah, you’re a piece of shit but I love you anyway.” Isn’t that what everybody is looking for?”

I don't want your picture on my cell phone, I want you here with me.

A Room in Rome(2010), dir. Julio Medem

I love so hard it makes me sick.
You won't see it very often.
Am I fooling myself with fantasy?
Under a black sky;
no one is what I call mine.
Chewing gum, always thinking of
one or two of you, yes, really you.
And the whole sheband
and a gold rush like fever.
Tongue on tongue sitting pretty
sitting on what could have been
my real life until I'm not so  sure
of what I am doing anymore.

Saving grace

This is for the girls who wear bare skin and make up as armour; who wear restrained dreams like a noose, like an amulet. 
(and there are stories like rainstorms, there are oil paint bruises from the summer underneath my skin, so here is the zipper, and pull ) 
this is for people who shoot up the last few years to feel anything at all.  but this is also for the people who inhale hope like secondhand smoke and spend their nights with their animal heads tossed to the sky, howling. 
(it’s not because we don’t have anything else to do.)this is for the girls who with apply nail polish drunk (I’d be more beautiful, yes), this is for the girls going away (and to all the things you are leaving behind.) this is for the boys with faraway lovers (you’ve been to hell and back) , this is for the boys for run away to cities in search of a soul (you’ll soon learn you can’t run away from yourself, trust mei’ve tried). this is for the people who are scared of what’s ahead, this is for the people who are -

Why I only cry when I'm alone.

When I was twelve my mother watched me crying in the back seat of her car and told me to suck it up. She called it tough love, I called it not caring enough. She left me alone with a box of tissues, told me to drown in my self-pity and drown I did, I choked on my sobs and cried until my body became shrivelled and dry as a raisin, and then I picked myself up and gathered my tears and threw them into the ocean.

She said it was to make me hard, so many years later, she said tough love, tough love, I wanted you to be strong, not weak and now look at you, so strong, so tall, not weak at all. Not like my sister with the fish star sign, no, not you, you do not bend like her, you will never break and I am so proud that I managed this one thing.

But I have broken and I have fractured, I have done both so late at night that all I hear when I open the window is the calm in-out of sleeping lungs, all inhaling at once, exhaling at once, the ensuing breeze blowing through my room and …


I learnt that peace is sneaking out of a cabin on a school trip an hour after curfew, by the wishing hour, to listen to the waves roll in and meet the shore.The sound of joints cracking as I watch is the sound of thunder spilling from my bones. The waves never quivering, the waves never losing track. The waves always leaving but always returning. I learnt that you can listen to the sound of a thousand dreams in the wind if you just turn off the air conditioning. It’s too dark for me to see my reflection in the mirror anyway. Wake up while people are sleeping just to watch the night breathe again. Watch the night light up because I sleep better during storms. Storms tempting me to watch them blaze. Get bitten by insects doing so just to say it’s worth it. Be reminded of the thousand things happening across the seas the moment you shut your eyes. Be here, be here to watch.
You make lists in your head about what you want in a lover, like brown hair a sweet voice. A sharp mind and a soft heart, a sense of humor that actually makes you laugh like you mean it.
This and that.

And it's all bullshit.
Because people aren't lists.
And I've always wanted to be the person who made someone realize that.
I want to come across someone with a list in their head that is nothing like the person I am, and I want to show them what they didn't even know they were looking for, they would call their lover.

People who think they know what they want are fooling themselves.
Nobody really knows what or who they want. Not until it's right in front of them.

“The French called this time of day “l’heure bleue." To the English it was “the gloaming." The very word “gloaming" reverberates, echoes—the gloaming, the glimmer, the glitter, the glisten, the glamour—carrying in its consonants the images of houses shuttering, gardens darkening, grass-lined rivers slipping through the shadows. During the blue nights you think the end of day will never come. As the blue nights draw to a close (and they will, and they do) you experience an actual chill, an apprehension of illness, at the moment you first notice: the blue light is going, the days are already shortening, the summer is gone.”

and if you’re really lucky, you would have the honour of meeting the same person twice; never the same skin, but always the same soul.

and if you’re really lucky, you would have the honour of meeting the same person twice; never the same skin, but always the same soul.


hello there c:

I'm adding my link on the left tab under my photo so if anyone has any questions, you can just reach me there, since I don't go on my blog 24/7 and I'm more active there.

p.s: sorry for the lack of posts and lack of replies :c

hold on,
stay strong,
keep fighting.

don’t buy that “love is a serious word" crap, love freely, love carelessly, love yourself, love that lady bird that just flew past, love that cutie that served you lunch at a cafe that you’ll probably never see again, love every single cat you see and when you stop loving someone or something, don’t fight it. i don’t know what love is but i know it’s not serious.