March 2012
47 posts
sometimes we give up on certain things because it meant we had to be vulnerable, and nobody likes being vulnerable. it’s so much better to feel safe - but at what cost? if you never risk it all, if you never even try, you’ll forever be on the bitter end of the cucumber. this is your only shot, don’t you understand that?
the most painful part about loving someone is that even when they have left, it doesn’t stop. the person is gone, the feeling is not. you can try to hide it, but it sneaks up on you when you aren’t paying attention. it goes to bed with you, it wakes up next to you. and when you are starting to forget, it comes running at you in full speed from behind - reminding you all over again. you...
Differential Equations
17felines:
I add up the times I’ve sat too close to men I had no intention of pleasing and laughed, head thrown back like a broken neck, hand slipping down the inside of their thighs, and watched them calculate the probability of getting laid and weigh those chances against the friction building in their slacks, and multiply that by the number of borrowed men’s dress shirts I sell to thrift...
52hearts:
and the thing is, sometimes it’s you, the whole time it’s you who was breaking your own heart, and not him, not them, not anyone but yourself and your own expectations, your own idealism that you could never seem to achieve, never seem to satisfy in a way that would make you happy, in a way that you’ve been wanting, needing to be happy for the longest time. sometimes it’s only you who...
blua:
You see, a writer will only look at you in words, fancy words, full of fancy nouns and fancy verbs, and gaze at you longingly in adjectives. They will wrap your body and keep it warm in never ending sentences and undress you with just the right punctuations and you will never be able to read them like the way they can break open your spine and read you like you’re their...
do you still remember that day, when I stayed with you throughout the entire night until dawn, when we just sat together in silence and looked at each other, communicating only with our eyes, our skin. we were both crying, and we were both so confused. finally I stood up and walked away, and you broke the silence by crying out my name. you didn’t stop crying out my name. not even when...
wildeyedandgolden:
If a man is only as good as his word, then I want to marry a man with a vocabulary like yours.
The way you say dicey and delectable and octogenarian in the same sentence— that really turns me on. The way you describe the oranges in your backyard using anarchistic and intimate in the same breath.
I would follow the legato and staccato of your tongue wrapping around your...
“You made me into a monster so I made you into art and I gave it to the world to...”
– All Your Heart - Transit (via sexwithastormtrooper)
the failure of language, by jacqueline berger
weissewiese:
(via ahuntersheart)
First day of class, I ask the students, by way of introduction, what they believe: Language is our best tool, or language fails to express what we know and feel. We go around the room. Almost everyone sides with failure. Is it because they’re young, still find it hard to say what they mean? Or are they romantics, holding music and art, the body, anything...
there are certain moments when you look at someone, and you see them in their entirety, and this feeling just blooms in your heart, spreading like bleeding ink throughout your veins, and you are so moved and you just want to cry and laugh at the same time because of everything this person is to you and has done for you
“At 7:35 A.M, you lay your tired body on mine
before peeling off, like a...”
– Megan Falley, “What the Hour Hand Said to the Minute Hand”
“We have become a sloppy bunch of people. We say things we don’t mean. We...”
– Greg Behrendt
dreamslow:
Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz, or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul. I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the...
what could you miss?
ethaney:
It gets almost disgusting writing about the one you love, the ones that hurt you, the ones who disappeared, the ones you miss. There’s this deep sense of inadequacy and this etching gap that lies between the writer and the subject because you write to keep them alive. And all that’s left is a lingering paper-trail that you later find under a pile of crinkled papers or under useless old...
I wish I didn’t brush it off so fast whenever people told me that just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m invincible. I should have listened instead of stubbornly holding on to my belief that I can do whatever I want.
because the truth is that while it is true that you are unstoppable, there are also limits. I went over my limit this time round, and the consequences are...
~*~* reactivated my formspring *~*~ →
3-autumns asked: hi! i love your writing :) but i was wondering if you could recommend some books for me to read? i'm 16 and i live in nj/usa and i think anything you like i'd like because i love your writing. hehe okay
sometimes it’s just really hard for me to pick up a book I’ve read before and read it again because I know that by the time I’m halfway through the book, my entire being will be in pieces already
“heaven is a place on earth with you”
– lana del rey, video games
sleepingtigers:
I find it hard expressing to someone ways in which their writing moves me. When I appreciate things I always seem to have to do so silently, or I ruin how precious I truly think it is trying to explain. Just let me love you quietly okay? Just let me obsess in silence. It’s best that way.
it’s strange what one person can do to you.
ever since I was a kid, I never liked myself, because I was picked on a lot. I never was good at social interactions - when I tried to talk to the kids around me, I just couldn’t fit in. I remember once when I was in kindergarten, I approached the most popular girl in the class - I thought she would be friendly, since the only reason why she...
you have to be brave enough to break your own heart.
I'm Still Not Ready To See You
milajaroniec:
Yes, we’re friends. That’s not even a question. We’ve been through so much together it’s impossible to think about. We trusted each other more than anyone else, more than our own family members even. And you’re still the person I’d call first in the event of a death or a fire or a nervous breakdown, mine or someone else’s. Well you’re probably not, but I’d still want to call you...
“I never fall apart because I never fall together.”
– Andy Warhol
“I was drawn to all the wrong things: I liked to drink, I was lazy, I...”
– Charles Bukowski
“people often ask me questions that I cannot very well answer in words, and it...”
– Inayat Khan
Sometimes I wonder.
milajaroniec:
Questions we all want to ask our exes.
*
I wonder if you’re happy.
I wonder if you’d tell me if you weren’t.
I wonder if your friends give you the same advice mine give me (“just get over it,” “she wasn’t worth it anyway”).
I wonder if your stomach drops anytime you hear a song that used to be “ours.”
I wonder if, sometimes, you just lose your shit and burst into tears.
I...
Losing A Best Friend by Mila Jaroniec →
When it happens, you won’t want to believe it. You’ll take their word for it when they say they’re busy, swamped at work, “just doing me.” You’ll make excuses for them, put your ringer on extra loud in case they call. But you’ll still feel the change, and because you can’t rationalize it, you’ll try to ignore it.
It’s a specific kind of loneliness that hits you like a wave of nausea. When the two...
with my ex-boyfriend, I became lazy. all I was interested in was for a soft, hazy spot to live in together with him. all I cared about was him and all my planets set to revolve around him. my dreams and my goals all changed to being his, forever and ever. my passion for writing and photography and art all melted away to become a passion for him.
I was consumed by love. in my future, I...
the most important language in the world: the language of silence
“What kills love? Only this: Neglect. Not to see you when you stand before me....”
– Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body
life: a sexually transmitted disease that always end in death. there is currently no known cure.
when I was young, I thought love was the miracle that was going to save me from years of loneliness
now that I am older, and now that I have loved, I now know that loving someone only makes clear, the impenetrable distance between the both of you
and how much more lonely that makes you feel
Bon Iver: And I told you to be patient, and I told you to be fine. I told you to be balanced, and I told you to be kind, but now all your love is wasted. And then who the hell was I?
Death Cab: So one last touch and then you'll go and we'll pretend that it meant something so much more. But it was vile, and it was cheap and you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me. Yeah, you are beautiful but you don't mean a thing to me
Radiohead: But I can't help the feeling I could blow through the ceiling if I just turn and run. And it wears me out... It wears me out. If I could be who you wanted, if I could be who you wanted all the time... all the time.
Brand New: You are calm and reposed, let your beauty unfold. Pale white like the skin stretched over your bones, spring keeps you ever close. You are secondhand smoke, you are so fragile and thin standing trial for your sins. Holding onto yourself the best you can. You are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins.
Nicki Minaj: You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe. You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe. You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe. You a stupid hoe, you a you a stupid hoe. You a stupid hoe, yeah you a you a stupid hoe.You a stupid hoe you a you a stupid hoe. You stupid stupid, you a stupid hoe