Showing posts from November, 2014

And as things fell apart, nobody paid attention.

better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming
better days are coming

Romanticisation of mental illness, Kelsey Weaver

My little ball of stardust told me today "your body is an art" and I think I died a thousand deaths and may have spontaneously combusted into billions of specks of moonlight.
If you’re important to someone, they’ll show you. If you’re not important to someone, they’ll show you. Watch carefully.


Look here, how dare you have the audacity to just waltz into my life and make me love you at my knees. For crying out loud, you came at me faster than the speed of light and the impact was harder than being hit by a ten tons truck.I have loved you for
756864000 seconds or
12624400 minutes or
201240 hours or
8760 days or
24 months or
2 years
And I am still loving you.But this isn't a measure of time. A relationship isn't a measure of time, it's one of those things where quality beats quantity. There's a saying that goes "you can be in a relationship with a person for two years and feel nothing, and two months and feel everything" and that's half true, because the time we hit our second month, I thought I have already felt everything that there is to be felt but who knew I was dead wrong and now we're into our two years and I'm very much certain there's still much more to be felt, learned, experienced.I love him and his hands that feels like r…
Delete her number. Stop ringing her. Stop messaging her. Stop making excuses to see her, to drop by her place.Erase her name from memory. Remove yourself from her life, more completely than you would like but as completely as she deserves. Move on, so that you can allow her to also move on. When you close your eyes, you don’t get to see her face. Not anymore. You don’t get to think about her lips, the warm glow of her skin when she rests next to you, or how she squeezes your hand in her sleep. You are not allowed to remember the smell of her perfume, that she only drinks mint tea (with two dollops of honey), or that she loves you.She loves you.She has been in love with you for too long.So, forget how she says your name. Forget how she calls your name. Forget how she screams your name. Forget that time you got sick and she stayed up with you all night, letting you lay your head in her lap and holding a cold compress to your forehead. Forget how her hair feels in your fingers. Forget ho…
He is not a bad person for not being in love with me anymore.
To say it out loud.
To mean it.
To know it, true as a toothache.
To remember how badly I wanted to have it back, your love.
How hard I fought.But in the end, how even I knew.
Like how trees know to let go of their leaves, that nothing can stop the winter.
You are very lucky if you have someone to whom you can tell about your bad behaviours without them thinking that you are a bad person because they know that what is inside you is purer and more beautiful.

相愛沒有那麼容易 每個人有他的脾氣

So I know we’re all shimmery little gods and goddesses and pretty celestial beings of pure self control here, BUT when y’all feel that sinking urge (you know the one: it drops like a stone straight through the center of you) to pick up the phone and call or text someone who you’re not supposed to be calling or texting for whatever reason— what do you do instead? Why do you NOT send the “I tried really hard to hate you but I miss you and I hope you’re happy” text messages? What’s your failsafe? Who’s your sponsor? How do you manage to stick to the program? Is it a mantra? Do you binge watch Netflix? Are you a stress-baker? How do you navigate this?
I remember your voice on the phone
and I remember
how we’d run out of things to say
half way through the night
but neither of us ever 
wanted to hang up because
it hurt too much not 
to hear the sound of 
each other breathing.
You write for yourself. You write because you felt something; at the time it was all that mattered. People come in and out of your life. Some leave a mark on your skin, some don’t. Be proud of the people who you have crossed paths with. They have made you who you are today. These people have taught you valuable lessons. Maybe at some stage, they loved you. Maybe they don’t give a damn anymore, maybe they do. Either way, the memories you hold are important experiences in your life that shape and influence what you write. Be proud of your writing regardless of who approves of it or not and regardless of who cares. I would be. Write for yourself.

Leigh Alexander

It seems that when you want to make a woman into a hero, you hurt her first. When you want to make a man into a hero, you hurt… also a woman first.

Don't give up, you've still got a couple of motherfuckers to prove wrong.

If you’re reading this, if there’s air in your lungs on this November day, then there is still hope for you. Your story is still going. And maybe some things are true for all of us. Perhaps we all relate to pain. Perhaps we all relate to fear and loss and questions. And perhaps we all deserve to be honest, all deserve whatever help we need. Our stories are all so many things: Heavy and light. Beautiful and difficult. Hopeful and uncertain. But our stories aren’t finished yet. There is still time, for things to heal and change and grow. There is still time to be surprised. We are still going, you and I. We are stories still going.
I don’t know if it’s because I’m angry or because I’m sad but I don’t understand why humans think that everything was put on Earth to commodify and exploit and how do you see an animal like an Orca in all its magnificence and intelligence and think ‘I know. I will take you away from your family and place you in a little water filled box and charge people to see you do tricks.’
I will not be your “when I’m not busy.” 
I will not be your “when I’m bored.” 
I will not be your “I’ve got nothing better to do.” 
I will not be something you pick up as a second choice. 
I will not be something you do half arsed. 
I will not be your afterthought.
"He doesn't want me anymore, I don't think he ever did."And what, my love? Maybe he did and maybe he didn’t and maybe he didn’t understand the things that exist inside of you and maybe it really, really doesn’t matter. Hold your head up like a queen. Do it like you believe it. You weren’t made for his wanting.
imagine someone being so sure of you that there was never a doubt, that they could be uncertain about everything else in the entire world, that it could all tilt off it’s axis by any number of degrees but they’d still know that it’s you. you when they’re scared and you when they’re angry and you at 2 in the morning when they’re drunk and their entire soul hurts. imagine how safe it would feel knowing that you could be anywhere at anytime, you could be you the you at 17 and you at 37 and you at bitter and cold and fighting and they would still fucking dig up the cement paved streets with their bare hands to choose you. you you you.
I've this friend who is absolutely unaware of how magnificent she is, and it frustrates me so so much because I know there is a lot of people like that out there and you need to know, need to understand, need to believe that you are a wondrous little dove, all beautiful and pure and you have the ability to make other people melt in your palm like snowflakes .
'Girls like you' your mother says,
‘are going to be disappointed a lot.’ 
She’s chopping coriander so fast that her hand is a blur 
and you’re 12 and you’re standing 
like a tremble, grubby knees and tear stained cheeks,
an offering in front of her
‘Why?’ Your voice is a quiet shake. 
She puts the knife down and calls you ‘jaan’ 
she holds your face in her wet hands,
you don’t flinch because this
is what love looks like
she kisses your forehead like forgiveness
‘because you mean what you say, 
you think other people are the same.’ 
She tells you that she spent four years 
trying to learn their language 
but people ask how you are
and walk away before you can tell them.
‘I’d rather be silent.’ She says. 
‘At least being quiet is honest.’You’ll come home seven years later
wearing your heart like a bruise
on the inside of your sleeve 
‘mama,’ you’ll say, voice like a thunder crack
‘he said he loved me, and I believed him,
I shouldn’t have, 
I think that he lied.’ 
She’ll be older…
Nice things include having your cravings satisfied, your boyfriend sending you funny photos of himself, your dog nuzzling on your lap and having good movies playing on the TV.

You say you want me and I say you'll live without.

I can’t explain how much it frustrates me when I see people getting sent messages that are basically ‘oh I thought you were a good person but you’re actually not’ like no, stop it, stop trying to pin people down into your black and white version of morality, stop trying to impose your narrow mindedness onto them, no one is ever consistently a good person, no one is ever consistently a bad person, they’re just fucking people trying to navigate everything and sometimes they make wrong decisions and sometimes they make right ones and they have to deal with the consequences of both of those things and having someone come along on their imagined high horse condemning them for being occasionally weak or occasionally cruel or just quintessentially human just drives me insane

On waiting, bridges and burning.

You stay because you don’t know how not to and nobody ever told you how lonely it is to be standing on a bridge waiting for someone to meet you at the middle. Nobody ever told you that if you run out of matches you can just turn your back and go. Don’t burn that bridge down. Walk across it. Except you don’t and you won’t but waiting feels like forever and waiting feels like someone is pouring saltwater into your lungs and waiting feels like your desperation at night. If God is watching, if anyone at all is watching, they want you to know that you’re more than this. Gather your baby longing, hold onto your fight, cradle yourself in your gentle arms, you can walk the distance, put that match down.
Like as a general rule, if someone acts like they don’t care it’s because they probably don’t care and once you can establish that you can quit trying to ascribe other motives to why they act the way they do