blood, sweat, and oh so many tears

claire elklund. 17. tri-sport athlete. national record holder. is anyone really listening?

[nakedy]

I am afraid that my fathers bad habits are leaking through my chest, and I am afraid that I find them comfortable. From my mother I inherited her fear of flying, Her cheekbones and her unstable sleeping pattern. In a small town, with a smaller family,  that’s where you’ll find us. Follow the smell of rain and the sight of fog; it’s coming from our house, and it has been smothering us all since my mother decided to tell my father that staying together no longer works. That she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She told him she wants to find happiness again,  and that he no longer provides it.   I am my fathers daughter, and my lack of patience comes from him. I overreact, I am stubborn, and everything always hurts more than  I am willing to admit. It is hard to imagine there ever being a time where my parents fell in love.  Foolishly, happily, uncontrollably in love. Years travelled fast. Romantic evenings turned into sitting on the couch watching TV; and going to bed early. I love you’s and I miss you’s eventually died out, and the only left was pain, silence and I’m sorry’s. Going to bed became a relief, an escape, it became a lousy excuse for not having to deal with a love that no longer existed.

“A Small Family” - Jen.L  (via lesbuan)

[xdarivs-blog]

He was sitting at the bus stop, and to his credit, minding his own damn business. His eyebrows didn’t raise in surprise when the passing girl’s box gave out, his lips didn’t quirk in amusement at her expletives, and he sure as hell did not feel immediate guilt when she proceeded to sit down and cry, for God’s sake. Well…. okay that was a lie. He’d been paying close attention. He always did. Darius shoved his hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at the sad sight of the girl’s small breakdown, an attempt at maintaining some of her dignity. Yes. In fact, here came the bus. But although it stopped, doors opening wide right in front of his nose. He let his escape pass, his gaze occasionally wandering to her small back and the dwindling cigarette as the bus continued around the corner.

With a heaving sigh, Darius extricated himself from his bench and moved to plop himself down at her side, absently reaching for the box to check the damage. ❝Look. Don’t do that. It had a good run. But there’s plenty of boxes in the sea. No need to cry over this one.❞ He tilted his head with a friendly grin, attempting to catch her eye through the smoke that curled upwards from the end of her cigarette.

[elkrunner]

She notices a trophy to the right of her, felled on its side. The head of the generic woman has a nick in it from the fall. And it’s fascinating, that imperfection, that inconsistency; it reminds her of herself. She runs her fingers over the groove in the plastic, the jagged edge cut out of the plastic girl’s skull. She wonders about the cliché of it all. And then ponders the inevitability of this breakdown. A pain on her foot jars her away from her thought. She notices a fleck of ash and ember has landed on the thin canvas of her shoes and burned a hole through it. Claire rubs the pain away, licking the pad of her thumb and rubbing around the burnt fabric. It makes more of a smudge than she’d like, but the solution she’s made is all she’s got. 

Curiously enough, someone has the gall to come and sit next to her. She never thought a teenager crying on the curb of a town street would be an inviting enough invitation for conversation. But hell, this is Nelson. Anything could happen. Claire takes another deep drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke near the stranger’s face but not aggressively enough to warrant his annoyance. ❝It wasn’t about the box,❞ she replies, making the obvious plain fact. Her eyes lock back onto the notch in the trophy head. She runs her fingers run over the dent. ❝It’s been a long day.❞

[peachxbitch-blog]

It’s the cigarette that draws her attention first, her nose already wrinkled and her lips perfectly poised, ready with a snarky comment as she whips around to deliver. It was one thing to light up completely smashed at some party, and another thing to go at it right here in the middle of the street where she had to smell it. Or so she tells herself. But at the sight of a pretty girl’s tears, the harsh words die on her tongue and Jess takes a few determined steps to hover the rather sad looking figure. ❝Your boyfriend kick you out or something?❞ Her tone is as sympathetic as she is capable and her hand finds her hip as she glances over  the jumbled mess of junk. That is, until recognition dawns hard and fast. ❝Wait– Claire? Claire Elkland? –The fuck?❞

[elkrunner]

Claire feels the figure draw into her space, and her shoulders tighten reflexively. There’s not much she can do to remedy the image she’s created, however, if they’ve already seen the mess. She gives another drag of her cigarette and doesn’t deign the girl’s first question with a reply. It’s when the voice recognizes her that she looks up to see Jessa Topher hovering above her. They know each other peripherally, at school and (more recently in Claire’s case) at parties. Claire understands the shock; it’s not every day you see someone like her doing something like this. ❝Afternoon to you too,❞ she replies listlessly, flicking ash off the end of her cigarette. Her tears are mostly dried by now, though she know she probably looks a mess. She doesn’t know Jessa well, but she’s sure this fiasco of hers will be all over school by next week. She would have cared about that a few months ago. Now it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. ❝Come here often?❞

[elkrunner]

❝ -- Goddamnit.❞ A pile of miscellaneous items -- books, trophies, birthday cards -- burst from the bottom of the large box she’s carrying onto the concrete before her feet. It feels like the last straw. Instead of picking it all back up and continuing she sits on the curb next to them, pulls a cigarette out of her jacket pocket and lights it. Her eyes water, partially from the smoke and partially from exhaustion, and she wipes any stray, fallen tears from her eyes before they land on her jeans. 

[rocketcandycouture]

Headcanon meme~

Put a symbol (or several) in my ask box, and I’ll give you a headcanon for our muses/character(s).  Yes.  Do it.

☾ - sleep headcanon ★ - sad headcanon ☆ - happy headcanon ☠ - angry/violent headcanon ✿ - Sex headcanon ■ -  Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon ♡ - romantic headcanon ♥ - family headcanon ☮ - friendship headcanon ♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon ☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon ▼ - childhood headcanon ∇ -. old age/aging headcanon ♒ - cooking/food headcanon ☼ - appearance headcanon ൠ - random headcanon ◉ - Any other question of your choosing

[nakedy]

I am afraid that my fathers bad habits are leaking through my chest, and I am afraid that I find them comfortable. From my mother I inherited her fear of flying, Her cheekbones and her unstable sleeping pattern. In a small town, with a smaller family,  that’s where you’ll find us. Follow the smell of rain and the sight of fog; it’s coming from our house, and it has been smothering us all since my mother decided to tell my father that staying together no longer works. That she doesn’t have it in her anymore. She told him she wants to find happiness again,  and that he no longer provides it.   I am my fathers daughter, and my lack of patience comes from him. I overreact, I am stubborn, and everything always hurts more than  I am willing to admit. It is hard to imagine there ever being a time where my parents fell in love.  Foolishly, happily, uncontrollably in love. Years travelled fast. Romantic evenings turned into sitting on the couch watching TV; and going to bed early. I love you’s and I miss you’s eventually died out, and the only left was pain, silence and I’m sorry’s. Going to bed became a relief, an escape, it became a lousy excuse for not having to deal with a love that no longer existed.

“A Small Family” - Jen.L  (via lesbuan)

[dailydcheroes]

[alisonbriedaily]

              ↳ as requested by anonymous

[melissabenoistdaily]

[run-18]

[wordsnquotes]

Does everyone secretly feel lost? Sort of shoved into a corner alone?… Have you ever felt like your home wasn’t home anymore? If you were me, where would you run?

Shannon Hale, Forest Born (via wordsnquotes)

[0rgasmgirl]