Knock Knock Get The Door It’s Depression

Don't want our little failed experiment getting any ideas. Going to kill myself someday

[heartofmuse]

You came without warning, and I fell in love so fiercely. You were all my eyes could see, all my soul could sing, all my hands could write. We were passionate fools, but you were everything, and so much more, to my heart. All the ink in my poems was filled with the light in your eyes. Still, your name beats there eternally.

e.v.e.

[heartofmuse]

All I ever wanted was to be ordinary. I've always known, instinctively, that I was not normal. It's never been easy being this sensitive—having superlative feelings that threaten to consume me. And yet, to survive it, you must become something more: you must not let it consume you, but instead offer it to the world. This is the nature of artists; they live on the edges, and in those extremes, they find more of themselves—material they fashion with beautiful sincerity to gift the world.

e.v.e.

[lucidloving]

@roach-works // Melissa Broder, "Problem Area" // Mary Oliver, "The Return" // @annavonsyfert // Koyoharu Gotouge, Demon Slayer // Haruki Murakami, Dance Dance Dance // David Levithan, How They Met and Other Stories // Tennessee Williams, Notebooks

[lovecrumbss]

oh to have foxes play where I've laid to rest

[professional-girlboy]

i need him

[thoughtkick]

“What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.”

— Scott Westerfeld, Uglies

[thoughtkick]

“When you give your heart away, you usually get it back in pieces, fragments. And often, a great deal of time passes before you realize that every piece wasn’t returned to you—and probably never will be. You crave nothing more than to get those small—but vital—fragments back; to return to the unbroken, undamaged version of yourself. But what’s been broken cannot be unbroken, and so all you can do is learn to live with the void of the missing pieces, to somehow find beauty in the wreckage.”

— Krystal McLean, My Darrling

[thebookquotes]

“Love is not a finite thing. It doesn’t just run out like gas in a car. Love is something you can never run out of, no matter how much you give away.”

— Megan Hart, Virtue and Vice

[oldwinesoul]

“𝐼'𝑚 𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝑅𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦. 𝑅𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑦.”

—Ernest Hemingway, The Snows of Kilimaniaro

[perfectquote]

Apologize to your body. Maybe that is where the healing begins.

Nayyirah Waheed (via perfectquote)

[lamictaltears]

"I'm Okay Though" by Sara Kays

[thepersonalwords]

“I want to make beautiful things, even if nobody cares.” Saul Bass

(via thepersonalwords)

[6yes6daddy6]

To all my exes that said after we broke up that I was the problem... look at me now being all happy in the best relationship ever, 3 years and still going :*

[therapysession01-deactivated202]

Do you still think of Him?

"Everyday"

[letterstomonkey]

Something Like a Metaphor

My eyes carry a nightmare past every eve of parting, yours, never shared come home, my home- the show is starting My breath inscribes the epilogue ending with you, my final form dissipated with the morning fog Your exit written before I perform My teeth an antique, yellow chess board but grind your lies of white, yours, never truly keep the King, I'll take your nights My knuckles met with cardboard, I made a mess of your front door I made a condemnation of a compliment I wrote you, something like a metaphor.

[writingthethoughtsaway]

“I know it might be pitiful. But I’m not ready. I’m not prepared. I know I have to say goodbye to the person I trusted most in the world. But I’m not ready. I can’t face it yet. I know I can’t go back and fix it. But I don’t know how I will ever face it.”

- S. C. C.

[apoemaday]

A Blessing

by James Wright

Just off the highway to Rochester, Minnesota, Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass. And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness. They have come gladly out of the willows To welcome my friend and me. We step over the barbed wire into the pasture Where they have been grazing all day, alone. They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness   That we have come. They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs.   At home once more, They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.   I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms, For she has walked over to me   And nuzzled my left hand.   She is black and white, Her mane falls wild on her forehead, And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear That is delicate as the skin over a girl’s wrist. Suddenly I realize That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom.