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Showing posts from November, 2013

Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.

Before you promise to "stay":

I don’t like folding laundry or talking about my emotions. I’m likely to leave both scattered all over. I’m not much for cooking but there will always be coffee.I’ll wear anything of yours with sleeves. I love when they’re long enough to wrap around my hands.Sometimes the world is too harsh, too big. It’s hard to leave the house on days like those.When I was sick as a kid my mom would run a bath for me and wash my hair. It was always so soothing. Maybe you could do that every once in a while.I find it difficult to finish most things. My room is home to countless journals of incomplete thoughts.I won’t love you any less in December. I think my heart just wasn’t meant for the cold.I never truly know why I’m crying so don’t bother to ask, simply be there.There’s whiskey in the medicine cabinet.If things get terribly bad, please don’t give up. Get me in the car and drive to the sea. The waves beneath my toes will wake me up and I’ll be yours again.

A reminder:

Contrary to popular belief, waking up early is not going to drastically alter your life or effect how you’re feeling. So sleep until noon and relish in the way laying in bed all day makes you feel a little more human.Drinking your coffee ‘black’ does not make you cooler or more sophisticated than the rest of us who load in milk and sugar.Being unimpressed by everything makes you look like a twat. Get excited, be overly passionate about something. Enthusiasm is fun.Hating yourself is not romantic. Neither is it poetic or tragically beautiful.Eat whatever you want. Your friend’s a vegan? Awesome. Listen to her talk about how great she feels because of it while you tuck in to some chocolate cake. Tell her you feel just as great.
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"I know you don't want to hear this, but you can't keep lying to yourself forever."

I take to collecting strangely shaped leaves, laminate them, turn them into maps. I wonder if the trees ever get sad from losing all of themselves in the Autumn. I wonder if they know what it is to be new again. I dye my hair until it is the colour of bruises. I wash my grey clothes until they they turn white. My knuckles hurt from punching walls when I can’t sleep. I can’t drink tea it reminds me of dog eared afternoons that look too much like what I wanted but couldn’t hold onto. I can’t look at men’s cologne without shaking.The back of my throat feels like it is made of teeth and sharp edges. I become straight lines and fury. There are some pieces of music I can’t listen to. The night is a hand to my throat. The mug that says ‘I’m awake what more do you want?’ is hidden in the back of the bread bin. I can’t bear to look at it. Sometimes I touch the places where I know only your hands have been. The tallest shelf on the bookcase. The top of the fridge. I curl my fingers around here.…
I hope one day
somebody loves you
so much
that they see violets
in the bags under your eyes,
sunsets in the downward arch
of your lips,
that they recognize you
as something green,
something fresh and still growing,
even if sometimes
you are growing sideways,
that they do not waste their time
trying to fix you
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You are my North Star when I'm lost and feeling blue.

1 year.
365 days.
8,760 hours.
525,600 minutes.
31,536,000 seconds.

that's how long I've loved you.
maybe more, but I'll never tell you.
you, my darling:

eyes that make stars in the Nebula turn green with envy.smile warmer than the cup of tea on a perfect Sunday morning.hands much bigger than mine (thus contradicting the whole "the spaces between my fingers fit yours perfectly" quote, which I like.)laughter that sounds like a brand new vinyl.If I had to be honest, I have no idea how we got through what we went through, because I'm so damn sure that if it was anyone else that wasn't you, we would've gone our separate ways long before. But instead, here you are, keeping me grounded and at the same time, lifting me up into the clouds.
It hasn't been all rainbows and butterflies, that's for sure. We've definitely had our fair share of tear-stained cheeks, profanities thrown at each other, cold shoulders and silent treatments, but regardless, I still love…
So today, while walking out of class, there were these "inspirational" quotes pinned on the notice board right beside the door.

None but one caught my eye, it stated,
 "if it's past 2 am, go to sleep, because decisions made after 2 am are wrong decisions." And I would beg to differ, because I've made lots and lots of choices and decisions and the ones made while I'm half-awake, groggy, half-asleep were the best decisions ever, because they were sincere and honest and they were exactly what I wanted.

Same way how conversations at 3.26 in the morning are the best because,

"the heavier the eyelids, the sincerer the words."

Letters From My Heart to My Brain, Rachel McKibbens

"It's okay to lock yourself in the medicine cabinet, to drink all the wine, to do what it takes to stay, without staying. It's okay to hate God today, to change his name to yours, to want to ruin all that ruined you. It's okay to feel like only a photograph of yourself, to need a stranger to pull your hair and pin you down. It's okay to want your mother as you lie alone in bed. It's okay to break, to fuck, to flame, to church, to crush, to knife, to rock, and rock, and rock, and rock, and rock. It's okay to wave goodbye to yourself in the mirror. To write 'I don't want anything.' It's okay to despise what you have inherited, to feel dead in a city of pulses."
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What I will tell my future daughter:

when the boys pull your hair and push you to the ground during recess, I promise not to tell you that it’s because they like you.when the teachers call home to tell me thatyou pushed them to the ground after you, I’ll take you out of school early and buy you your favorite ice cream.when you get older and the boystry to touch you where you don’t want to be touched, I’ll look at you like the sun when you come home with anger in your fists.They all tell you not to fight fire with fire, but that is only because they are afraid of your flames. when the boys yell after you like hyenas you yell back, baby.I will not teach you to be afraid of your anger so that you look for it in others.I will not make you be the better person because you already are.You wanna fight them? Fight them. don’t you dare apologize for the fierce love you have for yourself and the lengths you go to preserve it.when the boys try to tell you to soften up, I hope you make them bleed with your edges.I hope you remember th…

“You can’t help others if you can’t help yourself.”

the first time we kissed, a tornado blew its way through Kansas and a small town in Arizona fell to its knees
at the sight of a forest fire. we told ourselves not to mourn that maybe we were the creation borne from the destruction. we’d learnt that there’s no such thing as beauty in the breakdown  but we fell into each other like a jet-plane with a loose wing.

I held onto you so desperately that five months later the nail marks on your forearms still spelt my name. it looked like someone had pressed cigarette butts to your skin but it was only me and it was only you and somehow we ruined everything but each other.

if we were ever sorry for any of it, I don’t remember. our bodies marked like graves with each other’s mouths. it was all so beautiful even when it went up in flames.

see, because even when I hated you, I still wanted to touch you and when we touched, I swear somewhere across the city a truck flipped off the road and the electricity went down just for half a second, the time it …
if you’re not sorry, I’m not sorry.
let’s get drunk. 
let’s forget our names and call each other Charles and Maude for no good reason.let’s go swimming in the river. 
let’s freeze our asses off.this world, this world, this world. 
it’s too big for us and we love disappearing in it.

if you’re not sorry, I’m not sorry.we’ll write a song and those will be the only words.we’ll sing it sweet and out of tune around a campfire and watch our friends kiss the wrong people.I wanna die smiling. 
I don’t care when, I just wanna.promise me you won’t be around when I get boring.promise me we won’t even talk about it when the time comes for us to leave each other.one of us will wake up and we’ll just feel it. 
we’ll just know.that’s how I want this to go. 
a song with only a chorus.no bridge, no fade out. 
just a steady tune that does not get tired.

keep driving. 
I wanna know what the air smells like in San Francisco. 
I wanna see it all.

if you’re not sorry, I’m not sorry.let’s stop talking . 
keep this song on…
I am made up of bad habits. Consistent in how
I love boys who will never love me back.
Letting the phone go to voicemail when my
mother calls. Biting my nails bloody.
Wearing dresses when I should wear jeans.
Making my body small. Forgetting names
but not asking for them again. Maybe I should
have called. Maybe you should stop calling.
Maybe I should have remembered how you
take your coffee, your favorite band,
that you smoke a pack a day. Maybe I should
have apologized. If it’s any consolation,
my next birthday will be me eating cake in bed
and licking the icing off of my fingers alone.

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Do you think everyone deserves a second chance?

I think it depends on the person. I don’t think this type of question would call for a black/white answer. I’d like to think that everyone is human and.. in the process of adjusting and fitting into your own skin- you’re going to make mistakes. I used to be less hesitant in answering these types of questions as if I knew myself so well but since then, I’ve learned that sometimes, no- people don’t deserve second chances; not so much because they can’t change or be better- nor is it because you ‘deserve more’ and they ‘deserve less’ but because maybe neither of you deserve each other. You have to keep moving in order to learn and grow so it isn’t necessarily a ‘second chance’ by the time the ‘second time’ might come around. Ideally, by then, you or him or her or they would not be the same person they were the first time around. (whew that was a run-on thought!) I don’t know about chances because I believe that mistakes are made solely for you to learn and expand the depth of your percep…
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❝ You can be Han Solo,” he said, kissing her throat. “And I’ll be Boba Fett. I’ll cross the sky for you. ❞

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You should date an illiterate girl.

Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in a film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment.

Let the anxious contract you’ve unwittingly written evolve slowly and uncomfortably into a relationship. Find shared interests and common ground like sushi and folk music. Build an impenetrable bastion upon that ground. Make it sacred. Retreat into it every time the air gets stale or the evenings too long. Talk about nothing of significance. Do …
Tongue biting.
Heavy eyed.
Exhausted bones.
Disappointment.
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—— Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

"Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again."“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”“Yes. I want to ruin you.”“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.

When you're sad:

Write letters to the people you love. Don’t seal them; don’t send them. Instead, stick them between the pages of library books.Eat raspberries off your fingertips.Venture outside and observe natural life. Watch a honey bee suck the nectar from lavender plants. Watch a snail slowly make its way towards the shade of a tree. Watch a hummingbird innocently fly above your head. Realize how insignificant you are.Smile at strangers; say hello. It will improve their day and your own.Write lists. They can be about anything.Read several pages of the dictionary. Learn new words. Write down the ones you wish to remember.Never feel compelled to apologize when you don’t feel sorry. It’s okay that you’re honest. It’s okay that you have a different opinion from someone else.Read books and watch movies from your childhood. A healthy dose of nostalgia is okay. Immerse yourself in your past innocence.Walk to a park and get on a swing. Go as high as you can; feel limitless. The world is yours.Eat if you’…

A list of things to take with you when you leave:

The light that makes you look soft and warmA pancake skilletThe pressure of your mother’s hands around yoursThe jumper that hangs at your knees but holds your entire body like a hugA thermos of warm chocolateThat book you read when you were young which hasn’t quite left you yetRemember that evening when you were five again but not and the thud of your father’s heartbeat was the best thingthat soundA mix tape made by the girl who loved you long ago, sometimes she still calls but you don’t pick up because your chest is cavernous and hollow andred lipstickyour convictions
Here's the thing:

“Too many young girls don’t know how to act when someone’s being inappropriate with them. They giggle or they try to brush it off. Don’t do that. Tell them to go screw  themselves - be a bitch. If someone’s being disrespectful to you, be disrespectful right back. Show them the same amount of respect that they show you.”
when you were 4, you learned that ten was small and five was smaller still.
they told you that one was barely nothing at all if you blinked, you would miss it, it would fly past like last week’s midnight conversations they taught you that forever means to the moon and back, but now, I love you to the moon and back isn't even enough.
one, two, three, four yellow cars
"that wasn't even yellow."
"you didn't even see it.".
when you were 18, you've been told ‘i won’t leave you’ so many times you lost count and in the end it meant nothing at all because doors closed themselves into stone whilst you watched with eyes spilling sadness like tap water so tell me this, my love, is it better to tell me you love me forever,  or say it once and spend the rest of our time proving that you will.
He was beautiful, according to her. He had a way with words that did more than take her breath away. It took her breath away, turned it inside out, and deposited it back into her s…

Whisper a dangerous secret to someone you care about. Now they have the power to destroy you, but they won’t. This is what love is.

When the world tries to break your backbone, so you would bend over, get a stronger spine.
There is nothing more beautiful than someone who's trying their best to put a smile on your face.
I've loved you this whole time.
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Conversations at 3am

are the best.
when the both of you are exhausted and you're stuttering and he's listening, and both of you have your eyes closed, and he's half awake and you're half asleep.
but he still laughs, which makes you giggle.
and the look on the other person's face is absolute bliss because he's sleepy but he's trying his hardest to stay awake with you, and it's one of the purest form of innocence, and after a long, comfortable silence, one of you fell asleep, and the other is just watching, keeping the one who's asleep safe.

conversations at 3am are the best because it is raw honesty and sincerity.
“Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a …
"If this is what ‘adult discussions’ look like I don’t want any of it."
We have been silent for five days, you cannot touch my lips, so instead you trace the lipstick marks around the coffee mug, I leave them especially for you somehow I feel the ghost of your fingertips on my mouth.  You are rolling tobacco into paper, there are three unlit cigarettes in your pursed lip and a bottle of wine, no glasses, tonight is a ‘drink straight from the bottle’ night. Even the windows are holding their breath. Every creak sounds like a sigh.
I can imagine how wonderful you taste, of ash and distilled roses, I can imagine both kissing you and killing you.
"What would you rather?" You ask dryly, "do you want to break all the dishes again? The porcelain? We drank out of our damned hands for an entire month the last time we fought."
"Would you rather I wrote you a letter?" I tuck myself further into my own body and clench my fists. My hands tremble from the ef…
Absolutely everything affects me. 
I’m dejected for days because something has made me sad or someone had commented on one of my (many) flaws. 
It could be a look in the eye of a stranger that inspires wistfulness in me because there’s something so interesting in the way that the man on the bus has moved, or the way that woman in the station tucks her hair behind her ear to jot something down in her notebook that makes me want to cry because I don’t know them and I want to.
Sometimes the uncomfortable-ness of my skin makes me want to pull myself apart and find something of worth inside of me because everything is so ugly and so beautiful at the same time and that makes me sad too because there’s no balance in anything. 
I think about how lucky I should feel to be on Earth and sometimes I don’t appreciate that either because of the silly little things that break my heart and I’m surprised it isn’t full of tiny splinters and can barely beat but that’s another miracle of being human because …