izzy's playlists!
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Jules of Nature
@theartofmadeline
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Xuebing Du
Sweet Seals For You, Always
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JVL
Game of Thrones Daily
roma★
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Kaledo Art
cherry valley forever
Show & Tell
YOU ARE THE REASON
todays bird
occasionally subtle
sheepfilms
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seen from Bangladesh
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@carefactor--zero
“I’m not sure when or where, but something went amiss. Neither of us noticed because there was so much happening at the time and we’d gotten caught up in all of it. Perhaps I had been trying so hard to listen that I forgot to speak. And it could have been days, or weeks, maybe even months, before we realized we’d gone wrong somewhere. Suddenly there was distance. We’d drifted somewhere. Away. Apart. And then when we looked at each other, we saw different people.”
a.m.
I want to push him away. I want to shove and kick and run in the opposite direction. The thought of closeness and vulnerability is nauseating. A constant and violent monologue of reasons why I mustn’t let him close. And yet, ever so gently, he will call. He will always call. He will force his presence upon me in the only way he knows how: with love.
And so they sat there on that driveway on the hill, looking over the city they had grown up in; and saw two separate views. When she began to talk, she also began to cry, and he finally understood the look she always had when she wasn’t thinking about anything at all, and the way she held herself. Life had tortured her and tormented her and had turned the odds against her favor ever so often that she simply gave up on every one and every thing, except herself. And that is why he admired her so.
Violence & Valiance by a.m (via amountd)
She lay amongst the bark of the old oak tree, 'Take me away from here.' She whispered; and so the roots unearthed themselves, embracing her into their arms.
a.m. (via amountd)
/ fire in the sky - pt. 2 / (at Phillip Island, Victoria, Australia) https://www.instagram.com/_ashleighmolnar/p/Bu0hsc9hD5i/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=190n3a1oxqivu
I dreamed of him last night. It seems strange since it’s been almost two and a half years since he passed; and in those two and a half years, no matter how many times I feared nightmares and waking up in a cold sweat, I never dreamed of him. Yet last night he came to me, and it was all right and terribly wrong at the same time. Like everything was slightly out of place. A hand on my cheek and a warm smile, but everything was hollow.
I wonder why we dream of the dead by a.m. (via amountd)
I miss you,
I miss you even when I am with you.
Going Home by a.m
“It’s the middle of April and I’m reading Charles Bukowski on my balcony, and I’m drinking a coffee, and I’m thinking of you. And I hope that life has been treating you kindly.”
Old Friends & Charles Bukowski by a.m
“I was trying to tell you that I felt alone, but you didn’t hear it right.
There aren’t always solutions to every problem, or at least not easy ones, and that’s okay.
Sometimes I just need you to hear me. To listen. To acknowledge rather than mumble faux anecdotes across the telephone line to bandaid a hurt that you do not know.”
Anecdotes that mean nothing by a.m.
“Many people who offer you an ear are the very same whom are too eager to fill the smallest silence with their own problems.”
And so, perhaps I am alone by a.m.
“You’re right there.
You’re standing two feet away from me and you’re talking.
You’re talking,
you’re talking,
and I’m trying not to cry.
I want to close the distance that separates us
and hug you,
and tell you that I love you,
and tell you that I’m sorry I close myself off,
and that I’m not doing as well as I pretend,
and that often the urge to cry is overwhelming.
I want to say all of these things to you and that I hope you know that I love you.
I love you, and maybe you will never know how much.”
My father is 61 by a.m.
“It was a rusted 1988 Ford Maverick; which I’d had for the better part of five years, and had just about run into the ground.
But it had been through so much with me: learning to drive; learning to heal; learning independence; learning how to pack up a life and transfer it 1,781km away; learning how to let go. And this silly, rusted wagon had been the one consistent thing in my life for so long, that for some reason, I couldn’t really imagine life without it.”
a.m.
“I suppose that’s it, isn’t it? You go through life and you make all these plans, and you say things you don’t mean, and make promises you didn’t think you’d have to maintain; and before you know it, fourteen years have passed and half the people that were closest to you then aren’t even around anymore.”
a.m.
Lessons I learnt from the blood on my knuckles:
I remember from the age of twelve, I wanted a punching bag. I would curl my pale hands into fists and hit it over and over. Yet no matter how tightly I bound my wrists, they would ache; and no matter how thick I wrapped my knuckles, they would bleed. I wanted so desperately for thicker skin. But perhaps these hands were made for something softer. Perhaps these hands were made to love instead.
we mcfreakin lost her, doctor
