thoughtful unicorn

[i-wrotethisforme]

You can pave a road with gold and line it with my favorite flowers but if it’s a road I don’t want to go down, it’s a road I’m not going to go down.

[1995november-deactivated2015053]

[pr1ncesspyr0]

Dating a damaged human being

At first things will be bliss, late night phone calls, texting all day, talking all night. Time spent with each other will be them doing everything in their power to make you happy and to keep you wanting them, even if they don’t have too. They will do it any way because they don’t want you to leave like the last person did. Along the way they will warn you about their depression, their past, Them being clingy, dependent, needy, their perinoia, trust issues, tittle tweeks and other “imperfections”… You will say yes anyway and shrug it off like it can’t be that bad.

After a month to about six, things get shaky… most likely because at around this time in a past relationship shit has hit the fan and someone hurt them really bad, they will start worrying, hoping you text back right away and when you don’t they think the worst, they will take your phone (not because they think you are cheating but honestly, they are looking for a punchline) they will search your jean pockets for other people phone numbers, your contacts to see who has what nickname, just so they can cut off all emotions before you can hurt them even if you won’t, even if you swear, even if they know you better than that. They will fuck up, may only be once, may be twice, maybe 6 times, or even more. They will cry and call, beg and plead for you not to leave them when they get too depressed to even get out of bed because most likely, someone has left them because they were “too much responsibility” or got the line “I wanted a partner not a child”

A year in and things clear up everything is going good and you two start looking into the future, they disclose to you their deepest secrets, scared that they will drive you off but you don’t quit because you love them, they will be snooping less and smiling more. Trusting more and more as they let each layer of walls and mazes down to let you in. Things look really good, then tragedy strikes causing a full spiraling plummet into the grand cannon of depression, they won’t get out of bed they won’t eat they won’t bathe all they do is sit/lay there to cry, sleep, or stare at a wall or ceiling till you come around again to take care of them, make them shower, eat, speak, sing, and dance. But as soon as you leave its right back to bed… It gets better after a week or so but you never stop thinking about how bad it could get next time, and if you will be ready next time. It could can and probably will happen again, so you put on your big kid shoes and handle it the best way you know how.

2 years together getting your lives together they have started a new career you start working they start working things are crazy there is no time to talk they start to cry more and you talk as much as possible, soon enough you have had it with the not seeing them you want to get a place for the two of you, so you talk and work together to save up for a new place together to share. You two move in together and everything is amazing. But then you start noticing they look more tired, worried, unhappy. You will blame yourself but its not your fault or theirs it was/is all their ex’s faults. There will be nights you wake up to them looking at you, just studying your beautiful face and counting your freckles, wrinkles, smile lines, and any other perfect imperfection they find oh so interesting about you. They may look through your pants pockets, your wallet, your photos, and anything else because they are scared to jump in head first just to get hurt. They will get so depressed (for sometimes unknown reasons) they can’t get out of bed, so you help them out of bed, take then to the shower, help them get cleaned up, help them get dressed, make them eat, and get them started on the rest of their day… it will go one of two ways, you will stay and love, or duck and run.

The ending goes either one of two ways, 1 You can’t stand the depression or the perinoia anymore, so you pack your bags and leave without another word. Or 2 You own up to they shit you signed up for because they warned you it would be like this… Because If you didn’t want it…. Why did you say yes?!

[books-n-quotes]

“I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it.”

— Maya Angelou, Letter to My Daughter

[i-wrotethisforme]

“I’m choosing not to hate you, even though I have every right to. That’s a choice I’m making, not because I understand your reasons, but because I understand what it’s like to just want out. And I don’t know if you regret it or changed your mind about it or wish you handled it differently or if you don’t think about it at all. But however you feel, it’s none of my business anymore and it never will be. Because I’m known for second chances, but you lost yours, babe.”

—

[i-wrotethisforme]

“I’m choosing not to hate you, even though I have every right to. That’s a choice I’m making, not because I understand your reasons, but because I understand what it’s like to just want out. And I don’t know if you regret it or changed your mind about it or wish you handled it differently or if you don’t think about it at all. But however you feel, it’s none of my business anymore and it never will be. Because I’m known for second chances, but you lost yours, babe.”

—

[writingitdown]

i walk a fine line between healing and self-destruction. 

part of me wants to heal. to find out who i am and learn to love that person. to rid myself of the anxieties that keep me stagnant. 

but another part wants nothing more than to embrace the darkness. to run into its wide opened arms and let it consume me. to give it permission to end me entirely. 

[sixwordssayitall]

“I worry you’ll want me back in a year. I worry I’ll be with someone else. And, I don’t know whose heart it will break more.”

— @sixwordssayitall

[writingitdown]

i’m starting to learn that running away is never going to work if it’s my own mind that’s chasing me. 

[writingitdown]

“I couldn’t find a way to make you love me So instead I found a way to make you leave me.”

— a.m. // i want the best love or nothing at all (via writingitdown)

[writingitdown]

“I’ve all but closed myself off to any sort of feeling. I’ve been burned so badly that i stay away from all hot surfaces now. It’s fine, really. I don’t feel the hurt anymore like i used to. The wounds have healed themselves and i hardly notice the scars anymore. It’s fine – it’s just that i can’t feel the warmth now either. I kind of miss that, you know? There’s got to be a way to feel the sun without getting engulfed in its flames.”

— a.m. // i’m trying to find a balance between feeling everything and nothing (via writingitdown)

[writingitdown]

“i don’t want to repeat all the things that i have been. i don’t want to retreat behind these walls, they’re caving in. what if i don’t make it out of this place i’m trapped in tight? do you think i could fake it, living my life half alive?”

— a.m. // i don’t want to keep making these same mistakes.

[difficultsuggestions]

Grow from the dirt that they left you in

[lematworks]

[anyabocharov]

[latenightcornerstore]

“First, quit picking old wounds and going for walks in the aches and pains you already made it through– you call it healing, but it sounds like a good way to take a haunting home with you. LONELY is a no-vacancies sign for an empty room on the backside of your chest, and there will never be enough people to love that empty out of you. Love will not save you. You will save you. Remember, no matter how much you need a voice at the other end of the line who only wants to take care of you, it is a felony to call 911 just because you need someone to talk to. You cannot shrink to radio static, to heavy breath on a telephone. Your aching does not end in an ambulance. Now, breathe. Yes, I know you’ve heard this one before. Do it anyway. Got ribs like the wrong side of a fistfight, yeah? That’s from the hyperventilating. Your lungs just survived a car crash inside of your body. Be gentle with them, please. Find the pocket of your heartbeat where you keep forgiveness. We will try again tomorrow– I know you’ve got a bone to pick with tomorrow, but it’s coming anyway. Listen, in a few hours our little world will turn herself right-side-up again, and you will forget about all the ways this lonely night sang you watered down blues and your hands will start to make sense again. You think you’ve seen every ugly corner of this whole rotten world, but listen: there are an infinite number of things we don’t know and, statistically speaking, at least half of them are probably very, very beautiful.”

—

POST-PANIC ATTACK by Ashe Vernon

(from my second book, Wrong Side of a Fistfight, available here)

[latenightcornerstore]

“When they talk about the tortured genius, somebody always brings up Van Gogh— how he swallowed yellow paint because he wanted to put the sunshine inside himself. How his psychosis was probably the result of lead poisoning. They call him a miracle, but what I see is a man who was so sad, he found a beautiful way to kill himself. They say, “it’s awful isn’t it?” They say, “It’s always the talented ones who go before their time.” And me, a nine year old kid who’s always been told they were so talented wonders when I am going to die. We study them in school, the tortured artists. Look at all the poets who killed themselves what would their work have been without their depression? It’s it beautiful, isn’t it sad? As if depression is a parlor trick— pull it out at parties, impress all your friends. As if depression isn’t seeing how long you can go between showers before somebody notices or pizza rolls for dinner three nights in a row and then nothing the night after, because going to the store is an impossibility that you have not yet gathered the courage to conquer. It is the least beautiful thing I’ve ever seen and we call it the mark of an artist to stand in the center of an ocean and see nothing but desert. To be seated at a feast, but still swallowing sand. Depression is the yellow paint, the yellow paint, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT, THE YELLOW PAINT— Art is a coping mechanism. Van Gogh is good because when he had nothing, he had paint. When he was empty, he had paint. When the world was awful, he had paint. When he hated himself, he didn’t hate the paint. He whitewashed over his own masterpieces, because it was never about being famous, it was about doing the one thing that made sense when everything else didn’t. And they say, “without his illness, we never would have gotten all—this.” because they value his art more than his sanity because god forbid you lead a happy life and leave nothing to remember you by.”

— VINCENT, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)