You know you’re fucking with the right person when you don’t have to do anything to keep them interested other than just being you.

ellievsbear
Today's Document
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KIROKAZE

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NASA
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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@evrythnginvrsaid
You know you’re fucking with the right person when you don’t have to do anything to keep them interested other than just being you.
“I think about dying, but I don't want to die. Not even close. In fact, my problem is the complete opposite. I want to live, I want to escape. I feel trapped and bored and claustrophobic. There's so much to see and so much to do but I somehow still find myself doing nothing at all. I'm still here, in this metaphorical bubble of existence and I can't quite figure out what the hell I'm doing or how to get out of it.”
— Matty Healy
Someone Great (2019)
“I’m trying really hard to be this person that has her shit together, that has some form of fucking control over anything that has to do with my life. I’m trying really hard not to be so god damn fucking angry at everything. At the world, at myself, at people in my life. I’m trying to mask it all with some point or validation or giving it a mean by saying “this has to happen for a reason. It had to.” But maybe that’s just it, that’s what’s driving me crazy. Maybe there is no reason why bad things happen or good things happen. Maybe there is no reason and it’s just that, a thing that happened. It’s just the universe being cruel and the universe giving you a break once in a while because if we’re being honest there is ALWAYS something. There will always be a time in your life where it feels like bricks are sitting on your chest and there will always be a time after the bricks when the light peaks through one small crack and you have that moment where you don’t feel like you’re drowning and you think “This is it, this is where things get better. This is where I get better.” And it’s true you do get better. You get better every time, but there will never not be a time when there isn’t bricks sitting on your chest and that is what is so goddamn heartbreaking to me. We are born and we suffer and we live and we are happy and sad and everything in between and then we just die. Our bodies go into the ground or get spread out somewhere that was once meaningful to you if your family or friends know you, if you’re lucky. If you’re lucky you might also find love. I’m trying, I’m really trying to find the goddamn crack in the pile of bricks but fuck. What’s the point? What is the god damn point.”
— Wednesday, March 25th, 2020 11:33 pm
“And if you’re going to love me, you need to know that I am a complete mess. I cry whenever someone raises their voice and I always think that I’m never good enough because in the past that’s been the case. I cry whenever I start to even remotely think about my future because I don’t know who I am without this sadness and I don’t think I’m ever going to get better. I love animals way too much so I’m always bringing strays home. I get attached way too easily and I don’t know how to keep a conversation going. There’s days when everything is too much and I won’t speak to a single soul so please don’t take offense when I don’t return your calls. I come with a lot of baggage so you should know that I am no ray of sunshine and I am not made of fairy dust and everything pink and sunny. I am made of heartache, tears and sadness. If you’re going to love me, you should know that I open up way to easily and it leaves me with nothing for myself and that hurts. I let people take pieces of me whenever they decide to leave so I’m hoping that you won’t do that. As much of a realist that I am, I love romance. I don’t believe in a prince saving me, but I do believe in unicorns and ghosts. I always say my favorite color is blue, but if you ask me why I don’t have a happy meaning for it. I haven’t been to my father’s grave since the day we put him in the ground and that eats away at me. Holidays are always hard even though I always have a smile on my face. If you ask me what’s wrong more than likely I’ll say that nothing is wrong and that I am in fact fine. This is far from the truth. I am never fine, but there are days when I’m okay and if you can’t understand that then you should not be telling me you love me. I’m scared of love and what it does to people so if at times I push you away I am sorry. So I guess what I’m trying to say if that I am no picnic in the park and I hope that you can still say you love me. I am not for everyone, but I hope I am for you.”
— Deeply Feeling Series // via promisesofamazing
I’m content with the quiet things, the soft times, and the gentle moments. I’m at peace in the rain, reading on a porch as the wind so gently blows by. I’m satiated by the way the leaves rustle, and the gentle dance of the branches. I’m contented by the little pieces of time in living.
Sometimes we outgrow people who aren’t growing
“I think that most relationships don’t work out because people start to realize that their partner doesn’t love the way that they do.”
— Confessions of the Soul
“I was torn between holding on to what you promised and accepting the reality of you not being able to deliver.”
— r.h. Sin
“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.”
— Maxwell Diawuoh
““I don’t want just words. If that’s all you have for me you’d better go.””
— F. Scott Fitzgerald, from The Beautiful and Damned (via naturaekos)
Someone who drowns in 7 feet of water is just as dead as someone who drowns in 20 feet of water. Stop comparing traumas, stop belittling your or anyone else’s trauma because it wasn’t “as bad” as someone else’s. This isn’t a competition, we all deserve support and recovery.
““Admit it. You aren’t like them. You’re not even close. You may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. But it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences. For every time you say club passwords like “Have a nice day” and “Weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “Tell me something that makes you cry” or “What do you think deja vu is for?”. Face it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator. But what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? Who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? Everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. Nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. Trust your instincts. Do the unexpected. Find the others…””
— Timothy Leary (via amortizing)
How do you fall back in love with life?
clean your room. clean space, uncluttered space, space that doesn’t have miasma clinging to it can work wonders. clean the dishes. sweep. take out the trash. peel the clothes off the floor and wash them, and then actually fold/hang them. take a long shower. scrub behind your knees. brush your teeth. (this can be utterly exhausting, but try to get it done in a day, if you can. the end result is worth it.)
pull out your notebook. it doesn’t need to be a new notebook, but preferably one that you don’t usually write in, or that you haven’t touched in a while. fuck moleskins. the yellow legal pad will work fine. sit in your room, or in the park, or in the library, and write a list. count clouds. describe all the colors that you see, and note patterns that arise. sketch the cracks in the walls. note the shape light makes when it enters a space. talk about what the air tastes like, smells like. what sounds are there? even the white nose, break that down: air planes, fans, cicadas, anything. remind yourself that you are sitting in the middle of a space brimming with detail. remind yourself that you are not in nothingness and emptiness. your world is fathomless. it has potential.
drink cold water and try to eat something that isn’t processed. it does not need to be fancy. buy yourself an apple with the change between your couch cushions. eat it outside. if you’re someone who walks, walk somewhere afterwards, just to stretch your legs. take your fucking meds. remember that its a good thing that you are inside your body. your body is a fantastic and endlessly intricate machine, and even though society has smacked a bunch of poisonous ideas on it, that doesn’t change its inherent worth and splendor. take care of it.
read a novel. underline your favorite lines, and write phrases that twist your heart inside your chest on the back of your hand with an ink pen. read a novel like it’s poetry. read poetry, something decadent but unpretentious. watch a movie you haven’t seen before. if there are free art galleries near you, walk through one. take your time. let yourself bask. if there are patterns in what makes your soul ache, write those patterns down – marbles arches or soot crumbling bricks or dandelions or descriptions of dresses or whatever it is, write them down.
your chosen family is important. remember, they picked you as much as you picked them. the love has no obligation. it is given freely and it is given from a place of compassion. you are not a burden. if you need to breathe, take a minute by yourself and just exist, but remember to go back to your people. when they need you, listen and be gracious. always be gracious. the universe sometimes remembers things like that.
listen to new music. link jump on youtube or related artist jump on spotify or ask the chap beside you in the cafe what their favorite band is, and listen to that. listen to something that you don’t usually listen to. we tend to tie up a lot of memory with music. we are falling in love again. the soundtrack needs to be specific to that.
allow yourself to indulge in romantics. press flowers in old books. play movies with subtitles and mouth the words. dance in your room. wear something that makes you feel good, even if you wouldn’t wear it in public. write your chosen family letters, even if you hand deliver them. write poetry, even awful poetry. revel in its awfulness. eat dark chocolate and when your chosen family want to go out, try to go out with them sometimes, even if its just to the market.
Everyday I struggle to fight my own thoughts, my own overwhelming emotions and my innate instinct to run away when things go south but every day I have you. Every day you hold my hand while I fight, every day you embrace me and keep me calm, every day you fill me with a gentle warmth and every day you never fail to remind me that I am loved. Each day I spend might not be perfect but atleast I face each day with you.
You outweigh every bad thing in my life, I love you.
The one thing I can appreciate about Tumblr is that I can just be. I don’t have to talk to anyone, I don’t care how many followers I have, I don’t care if anyone likes what I reblog. This entire space is dedicated to what I love; what inspires me; what brings me pleasure.
I guess it’s hard to keep yourself
while trying to be someone
the person you love would want to keep.
- who are you supposed to be?