angels w filthy souls

my canvas of word vomit

[artofbitterness]

On Accepting Different Sides Of A Woman

Men, this one's for you, too.

very important

[artofbitterness]

4 Reasons Why Being Single Is The Bee's Knees

If you're single and you know it, clap your hands.

a very fun article about being single

[artofbitterness]

Paper-Thin And See-Through

To the people who don't think of their body as a home

be kind to your bodies! 

[artofbitterness]

i have polaroid’s on my wall of all the boys i used to kiss. there are dirty dishes in the sink and i think this will be the year that i pretend to love people just because there’s nothing else to do. i spend my time reading poems about girls who don’t eat and smoke cigarettes. i spend my time reading poems about girls who rip their ribcage open just to find out that there is nothing left inside except empty beer bottles. i get high and slip into silk and realize that i am a combination of 1/3 love and 2/3 champagne bubbles and i think to myself, “maybe this is what it’s like to be the hurricane instead of the rain."

9/23/15, i forgot who i was a year ago (a.aquilo)

[artofbitterness]

Hi, just wondering what are your favorite books and fav memoirs?

i am a lover of all books that have to do with mystery, comedy, or some sort of love connection or lack there of. i am currently reading “Bad Boy: My Life On And Off Canvas” by Eric Fischl but am also working on a few independent authors from WhereAreYouPress. i highly recommend independent authors, they are beautiful in every which way. i read a lot of poetry and spoken word, that tends to be my favorite. but “Yes Please” by Amy Poehler is a good laugh!

[artofbitterness]

Omg hi... You're amazing!

oh my goodness, hello! right back at you kind soul~

[a-bathingbae]

[artofbitterness]

I used to think home was the bottom of a wine bottle Or a 2am bar fight. Home was time zones, dirty fingernails, glasses half full. It was forgetting to call my parents and spilling coffee on my white sweater. Six months later, it’s 8am and you’re lying next to me. The sunlight coming in from our bedroom window hits your face at the perfect angle. You teach me about Hemmingway and how his own loneliness drove him mad. We eat breakfast on the floor and I say, “I was damaged goods before I met you. Russian Roulette with my finger waiting patiently on the trigger. Everything around me was static noise, dead roses, and coffee grounds. I considered mistakes and kisses to be of the same value and projected my love on to other people when I couldn’t figure out how to love myself. But one look at you and all of this collateral damage doesn’t seem so collateral anymore. I trace your body like a map. The indents in your spine let me know that I am home. And by home I mean pomegranate seeds, Afternoon plans, my finger off the trigger. By home I mean water colors, comfortable silence, and the birthmark on your left shoulder. And I know that my love is messy and unorganized most of the time but your skin is the closest thing I have ever called to home.”

1/14/16, this one isn’t about you but i hope it can be someday (a.aquilo)

[artofbitterness]

It never gets easier, only different.

my very first post on odyssey.

for girls who are hard to love

[artofbitterness]

[artofbitterness]

four cups of coffee does nothing

the clouds are rolling over the city like they have somewhere to be. and i’ve been trying to muster up the strength to climb out of bed for the last hour and a half. a text message from my mom pops up on my phone. it reads, “good morning. just want you to know that you are beautiful and have so much to offer to the world. i am proud of the masterpiece you have become.” i smile, take a sip of the coffee that’s been sitting on my windowsill for two days, and remove the covers. i think part of being alive is knowing that there is guts in just simply waking up in the morning. my alarm goes off and i automatically prepare my mind to fight some sort of demon before the day is done. i try to smile at everyone and reward myself by kissing boys who don’t even have the time to learn my last name. this is what it’s like to live in a city that is constantly feeding you ambition, watercolors, and martinis. this is what it’s like to dip your feet into arts and crafts and failed literature. and this is what it’s like to be celestial in a world full of people who think that dragging you by your throat makes you more attractive and marketable.

[artofbitterness]

i remember it all so vividly. your hands started at my waist and then slowly made their way across my stomach. your nose tangled in my hair as you whispered, "loving you isn't easy but i'll try". you tasted like wine and lust mixed together. my back was towards you but i could feel your eyes piercing into my neck. it felt like electricity was shooting down my spine and i wanted more. so much more. now it's four months later and i still cover up my sadness with lingerie and cough medicine. i kiss other boys to inhale something new but my sheets are still stained with your scent. your number blinks on my phone but we both know how these things end. we aren't adults. we're children playing with matches.

a.a

[artofbitterness]

post some new shittt girl :)

hey, just for you i will post an excerpt from a book i am in the midst of writing. exciting things have been happening in my life so i’ve been a tad absent from my blog :/ my apologies! but i promise new material is coming soon xo

[artofbitterness]

I'm in love with someone who destroys me. And yet I don't know how to stop falling back into bed with him...or stop loving him.

sounds like this person is giving you shitty love. and you don’t deserve or need shitty love. you need a back bone so that you can enjoy being independent and alive. you need to breathe and you need closure. prosper and move on! it will be beneficial, i promise!!!!

[artofbitterness]

"the reason i drink is to understand the yellow sky, the great yellow sky." - vincent van gogh

[artofbitterness]

tidal waves in the form of you

some days hurt more than others, you know? like when you miss someone so much it feels nauseating. it’s almost as if you want to crawl into their bones one last time and say, “i know we did not work out but sometimes your scent still lingers in the air and there is a pile of your old sweatshirts near the doorway that i’m trying not to throw out”. people ask you why your soul is so dark and all you do is shrug. but on the inside you’re screaming about how you loved someone who didn’t appreciate you and it fucked you up. you don’t want people to feel sorry for you. and you don’t want any of the metaphysical bullshit. you just want peace and quiet and your secrets to be ripped out of his skull because he didn’t deserve to take them with him when he left.

[artofbitterness]

relaxation view to calm the soul~