There Are No Accidents

it's the kind of love that grows flowers in my anger

[blossomfully]

Sue Zhao

[unchildhood]

MARY OLIVER

Thirst (2006);

original photos and edit

[refiningfire]

[echoesofanepiphany]

You must learn to move on if there is any hope of survival.

[stillesgeschrei]

“Getting over it doesn’t mean forgetting it. It just means reducing the pain to a tolerable level, a level that doesn’t destroy you.”

— Kevin Brooks (via thoughtkick)

[echoesofanepiphany]

my heart is sitting on a seesaw

sliding this way and that way

i can never feel at rest

[nomorechoirs]

“[Nothing to do but live.] Nowhere to be but gone.”

— Christian Wiman, from “This Inwardness, This Ice”  (via the-final-sentence)

[heartcountry]

“There was once a very great American surgeon named Halsted. He was married to a nurse. He loved her-immeasurably. One day Halsted noticed that his wife’s hands were chapped and red when she came back from surgery. And so he invented rubber gloves. For her. It is one of the great love stories in medicine. The difference between inspired medicine and uninspired medicine is love. When I met Ana I knew: I loved her to the point of invention.”

— Sarah Ruhl, The Clean House  (via laslo-kovacssss-blog)

[artfully-wayward]

Sanober Khan, from Turquoise Silence

[echoesofanepiphany]

technically, i am the reference librarian, but very few of our patrons require me for reference. i spend a lot of my time straightening things up and alphabetizing. i love alphabetizing. i live for the lulls when i can travel slowly around the shelves, straightening spines, re-ordering titles. there is something so soothing in this, some inner rocking that happens when i move through the books, not conscious of their content but just of their physicality, their presence in the world as containers of words organized into patterns. i touch them one by one and one by one they are there. 

- the regrets

[echoesofanepiphany]

I looked at him a lot. I touched him all over with the fingers of my eyes. Some men's handsomeness is a trick of the light and cannot survive such probing. but he held up. His handsomeness was not detachable from him. It moved when he moved. It had sinew and pulse.

the regrets

[echoesofanepiphany]

Most people don't notice most other people. Most people don't notice much of anything.their lives fit them too snugly; noticing requires space.

The Regrets

[echoesofanepiphany]

I found you amongst the lonely,

and I thought to me,

“aren’t you just like me”.

[echoesofanepiphany]

I feel like a ghost. only i can see me, only i can hear me.

[echoesofanepiphany]

I know people come and go But ur abscene has created holes in me.

(echoesofepiphany)

[echoesofanepiphany]

I miss you. And sometimes it is all I feel.

(echoesofepiphany)

[echoesofanepiphany]

I think my teachers underestimate my ability to stare at the slices of lemon floating in my water bottle I’d rather much count the pulp than learn how to graph the function of y=½ Sin 2x and be reminded of yet another thing I can’t do- that list has been getting longer lately 1. Rub lotion on my back by myself 2. Cook 3. Make decisions 4. Keep it together for longer than a day 5. Graph the function of y= ½ Sin 2x Martha (my therapist) said not to. She said to make a list of “happy things” instead to be fair, number 4 isn’t really my fault. I can’t seem to swallow one problem before life throws another at me. And another. And another. until I am overfilling with disasters and somehow every time I open my mouth only tragedies spill out I sit in my classes, soaking in so much hurt that I’m surprised none of my teachers have asked me to take my mess outside the longest argument I’ve had is still on going- in my head It’s like my mind and my heart can’t stop having a go at each other there are so many voices, everything is so loud I’d just like some peace and quiet I walk in the hallways feeling faded, invisible and it’s not because I’m bumped into It’s because no one sees me, and really because no one hears me I turned 20 yesterday and it was exciting but it also scared the heebeejeebees out of me because I’m two decades old and still not “accomplished” and I’m still, by definition, lost what scares me more is that 2 more decades might go by and I might still be in the same place  I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know which way to go it’s like I’m standing in the center of so many dark alleyways and I’m pretty sure all of them lead to a dead end so I kind of just stand there I’m not really a negative person, but lately I feel like a giant, walking black hole I feel held apart by a thread that’s about to collapse I feel tired. I feel heavy there are so many things circling inside my head, whooshing about that I can’t seem to figure out what’s rooting me to the ground Martha says she knows me. and I feel like congratulating her because hell, I’ve known me for 20 years and I still haven’t figured it out. she said it would help to write it out, to put it all on paper but now I feel empty, like now that it’s written, it is also more real.

On being lost (via echoesofepiphany)