Me: *starts crying* Me to myself: omg here go your lil crybaby ass…
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@brilliantlydisguised
Me: *starts crying* Me to myself: omg here go your lil crybaby ass…
May you NEVER be in a position to not afford your rent!
Sending good vibes to everyone with rent, utilities and more bills than bills! Better days are ahead.
romanticize the hell out of your life tbh? romanticize the freckle on your left ass cheek or getting gas at the station before sunset. make every moment a good memory. make yourself feel special because you are special and I’m tired of this attitude where we attack each other by saying “no one cares”
give em the ol’ razzle dazzle
Who’s the real you? The person who did something awful, or the one who’s horrified by the awful thing you did? Is one part of you allowed to forgive the other?
Rebecca Stead, Goodbye Stranger (via wnq-writers)
But it’s not possible to forget anybody you were that hung up on, who was that hung up on you. You can’t forget anything that hurt so badly, went so deep, and changed the world forever. It’s not possible to forget anybody you’ve destroyed.
James Baldwin, from Another Country (Dial Press, 1962)
(You Are on the Floor Crying) And you have been on the floor crying for days. And this is you being brave. That is you getting through this as best you know how. No one else gets to tell you what your tough looks like.
Clementine von Radics, You Are on the Floor Crying (via clementinevonradicspoems)
Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this. Know you are the type of woman who is looking for a place to call yours. Let the statues crumble. You have always been the place. You are a woman who can build it yourself. You were born to build.
No Matter the Wreckage, Sarah Kay (via check-your-pockets-chimney-child)
Is there a word for the moment you win tug-of-war? When the weight gives, and all that extra rope comes hurtling towards you, how even though you’ve won, you still end up with muddy knees and burns on your hands? Is there a word for that? I wish there was.
No Matter the Wreckage, Sarah Kay (via tensive)
Being loved is not the same as loving. When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping. It is realizing you have hands. It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.
The Type, Sarah Kay (via unfoldingthemyth)
I’m not them,” you say. “I’m not who hurt you.” I touch your face tenderly, cupping your cheek. “Okay. Then who are you?” “Someone who is deeply, irrevocably in love with you. And you know what? I don’t give a shit. If you hurt me. If I hurt you. And that’s the difference, you know? Between me and them. I love you more than the fear. I’m willing to risk it. I’m willing to fucking pour my heart out to you- right here, right now, when there’s a very real chance you’ll get up and leave and never talk to me again. And maybe I’m stupid for doing this, but I can’t… I cant hold it in anymore. Every time I look at you, you grow more and more beautiful until I can hardly stand it, so fuck it. If you ruin me, if I ruin you, who the fuck cares about the consequences, about the future? Does it really matter if we both feel the same way? Fuck the idea that wreckage can’t be gorgeous. I think the treetops are grateful for the hurricane that rips off their leaves. Goodness, I think they dream about it. I think thy fucking crave it, because for a single, wind struck moment, they get one inch closer to really living. And fuck, I’ll be the leaves this time around. Do you think I care? I’d set myself on fire to see the flames that dance in your eyes. So if you love me, fuck the fear. Fuck the fear. I may not be worth everything, but damn it, I’m worth more than the pain those assholes left you with.
ap (12.28.16) im not who hurt you (via inkbyaporia)
Love me like love is more than just a word. Make it action, make it choice, make it commitment. Don’t try to be perfect. Don’t try to love me perfectly because you are not perfect and neither am I, some days we will crash and burn but it’s whether or not we escape from the wreckage that matters. So when we have those arguments that make peace seem like a distant memory, take the time you need to cool off but make sure you come back. Motivate me. I’ve always been quite the dreamer, but some days the world gets the best of me. My body keeps moving but everything else feels dead, and everything including you feels further away than it should be. When that happens, pull me close. Tell me that you’re here, tell me that there’s more to live for, call it soul to soul resuscitation. Bring me back to you. Don’t give up on understanding me. I know that on most days my mind is more like a really messy bedroom and finding sense in all of the chaos may prove to be difficult but please, don’t stop trying. Keep talking, keep asking questions, refuse to get tired. See, I know a lot of words. I know temporary. I know brief, short-lived, fleeting. I don’t quite get the word stay. It tastes weird on my tongue, probably because I’m more used to people doing the opposite. I guess that’s why I’m always prepared to write goodbye poems, and why I’ll be expecting you to leave once you see the person behind all of this poetry. Please, don’t go. Prove me wrong. Stay.
How I desire to be loved. // Maxwell Diawuoh, Once A Day (362/366)
"Love Poem #137" by Sarah Kay
I will wake you up early even though I know you like to stay through the credits. I will leave pennies in your pockets, postage stamps of superheros in between the pages of your books, sugar packets on your kitchen counter. I will Hansel and Gretel you home. I talk through movies. Even ones I have never seen before. I will love you with too many commas, but never any asterisks. There will be more sweat than you are used to. More skin.More words than are necessary. My hair in the shower drain, my smell on your sweaters, bobby pins all over the window sills. I make the best sandwiches you’ve ever tasted. You’ll be in charge of napkins. I can’t do a pull-up. But I’m great at excuses. I count broken umbrellas after every thunderstorm, and I fall asleep repeating the words thank you. I will wake you up early with my heavy heartbeat. You will say, Can’t we just sleep in, and I will say, No, trust me. You don’t want to miss a thing.
When I am inside writing, all I can think about is how I should be outside living. When I am outside living, all I can do is notice all there is to write about. When I read about love, I think I should be out loving. When I love, I think I need to read more. I am stumbling in pursuit of grace, I hunt patience with a vengeance. On the mornings when my brother’s tired muscles held to the pillow, my father used to tell him, For every moment you aren’t playing basketball, someone else is on the court practicing. I spend most of my time wondering if I should be somewhere else. So I have learned to shape the words thank you with my first breath each morning, my last breath every night. When the last breath comes, at least I will know I was thankful for all the places I was so sure I was not supposed to be. All those places I made it to, all the loves I held, all the words I wrote. And even if it is just for one moment, I will be exactly where I am supposed to be.
The Paradox, Sarah Kay (via poetryisanemotioninwords)
Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.
Sarah Kay, No Matter the Wreckage (via larmoyante)
“Choose her everyday or leave her.
I spent 5 years hurting a good woman by staying with her but never fully choosing her.
I did want to be with this one. I really wanted to choose her. She was an exquisite woman, brilliant and funny and sexy and sensual. She could make my whole body laugh with her quick, dark wit and short-circuit my brain with her exotic beauty. Waking up every morning with her snuggled in my arms was my happy place. I loved her wildly.
Unfortunately, as happens with many young couples, our ignorance of how to do love well quickly created stressful challenges in our relationship. Before long, once my early morning blissful reverie gave way to the strained, immature ways of our everyday life together, I would often wonder if there was another woman out there who was easier to love, and who could love me better.
As the months passed and that thought reverberated more and more through my head, I chose her less and less. Every day, for five years, I chose her a little less.
I stayed with her. I just stopped choosing her. We both suffered.
Choosing her would have meant focusing every day on the gifts she was bringing into my life that I could be grateful for: her laughter, beauty, sensuality, playfulness, companionship, and so … much … more.
Sadly, I often found it nearly impossible to embrace – or even see – what was so wildly wonderful about her.
I was too focused on the anger, insecurities, demands, and other aspects of her strong personality that grated on me. The more I focused on her worst, the more I saw of it, and the more I mirrored it back to her by offering my own worst behavior. Naturally, this only magnified the strain on our relationship … which still made me choose her even less.
Thus did our nasty death spiral play itself out over five years.
She fought hard to make me choose her. That’s a fool’s task.
You can’t make someone choose you even when they might love you.
To be fair, she didn’t fully choose me, either. The rage-fueled invective she often hurled at me was evidence enough of that.
I realize now, however, that she was often angry because she didn’t feel safe with me. She felt me not choosing her every day, in my words and my actions, and she was afraid I would abandon her.
Actually, I did abandon her.
By not fully choosing her every day for five years, by focusing on what bothered me rather than what I adored about her, I deserted her.
Like a precious fragrant flower I brought proudly into my home but then failed to water, I left her alone in countless ways to wither in the dry hot heat of our intimate relationship.
I’ll never not choose another woman I love again.
It’s torture for everyone.
If you’re in relationship, I invite you to ask yourself this question: “Why am I choosing my partner today?”
If you can’t find a satisfying answer, dig deeper and find one. It could be as simple as noticing that in your deepest heart’s truth, “I just do.”
If you can’t find it today, ask yourself again tomorrow. We all have disconnected days.
But if too many days go by and you just can’t connect with why you’re choosing your partner, and your relationship is rife with stress, let them go. Create the opening for another human being to show up and see them with fresh eyes and a yearning heart that will enthusiastically choose them every day.
Your loved one deserves to be enthusiastically chosen. Every day.
You do, too.
Choose wisely.”
- Bryan Reeves