@fall-o-ut - Tumblr Blog

it’s never too late to start again. 5pm on a thursday can be your new monday. you don’t have to wait until the new year to better yourself. time is an illusion, don’t forget that. just because you woke up at 1pm, it doesn’t mean you messed your whole day up and that you can’t turn the mood around. it’s never too late to start again!!!!!

herzmasochismus-deactivated2017

Visit Original Link

I think I saw you in my sleep, darling, I think I saw you in my dreams you were Stitching up the seams on every broken promise That your body couldn’t keep. I think I saw you in my sleep. I think I saw you in my sleep, darling, I think I saw you in my dreams you were Stitching up the seams on every broken promise That your body couldn’t keep. I think I saw you in my sleep. I thought I heard the door open, oh no, I thought I heard the door open but I only heard it close. I thought I heard a plane crashing, but Now I think it was your passion snapping. I think you saw me confronting my fear, it Went up with a bottle and went down with the beer and I think you ought to stay away from here There are ghosts in the walls and they Crawl in your head through your ear. I think I saw you in my sleep, lover, I think I saw you in my dreams you were Stitching up the seams on every mangled promise That your body couldn’t keep. I think I saw you in my sleep. I know that someday you’ll be sleeping darling, likely dreaming off the pain. I hope you hear me in the streetlight’s humming, softly breathing out your name. I know that even with the seams stitched tightly, only scars will remain. I say we scrape them from each other, darling and let them wash off in the rain. And when they run into the river, oh no let the water not complain. I swear that even with the distance, slowly wearing out your name. Your hands still catch the light the right way and our hearts still beat the same. And our hearts still beat the same.

wont-time-love-us

change of heart or something // lily rain

hello-lolo-blog1

And you tried to change, didn’t you? Closed your mouth more. Tried to be softer, prettier, less volatile, less awake… You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that. And if he wants to leave, then let him leave. You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.

Warsan Shire, For Women Who Are Difficult To Love (via alunit)

//

poppunklateatnight

La Dispute // all our bruised bodies and the whole heart shrinks

So now tell me how your story goes. Have you ever suffered? If so, did you get better or have you never quite recovered from it? Did you find your lover laying in your bedroom with another and then Did you let it hover over you and everything else well after the fact? Show me all your bruises. I know everybody wears them. They broadcast the pain–how you hurt, how you reacted. Did cancer take your child? Did your father have a heart attack? Have you had a moment forced the whole heart to grow or retract? Or just shrink. Does the heart shrink? Tell me everything. Tell me everything you know. Were you told as a child how cruel the whole world can be? Did anybody ever tell you that? Tell me what your purpose is? Who it was that put you here and why? Did anybody really put you here at all? And what of those necessities? Like how to cope with tragedy and pain? Did anybody ever show you how? When it hits will my heart burst or break or grow strong? Is there really only one way to know now? I’m not sure if I’m ready yet to find out the hard way How strong I am. What I’m made of. I’m not sure if I’m ready yet to walk through the fire. I’m not sure I can handle it. Do you think if the heart keeps on shrinking One day there will be no heart at all? And how long does it take? Am I better off just bursting or breaking? Because I don’t see my heart getting strong. Tell your stories to me. Show your bruises. Let’s see what humanity is capable of handling. She lost her kid, only seven, to cancer. She answered with faith in her god and carried on, While he was attacked by his son and was stabbed in his stomach and his back and his arms. He showed me scars. 82 years old, told me, “I still have my daughter and my wife. And I still have My life and my son.” Tell me what your worst fears are. I bet they look a lot like mine. Tell me what you think about when you can’t fall asleepat night. Tell me that you’re struggling. Tell me that you’re scared. No, Tell me that you’re terrified of life. Tell me that it’s difficult to not think of death sometimes. Tell me how you lost. Tell me how he left. Tell me how she left. Tell me how you lost everything that you had. Tell me that it ain’t ever coming back. Tell me about God. Tell me about love. Tell me that it’s all of the above. Say you think of everything in fear. I bet you’re not the only one does. Everyone in the world comes at some point to suffering. I wonder when I will. I wonder. Everyone is out searching for someone or something. I wonder what I’ll find. I wonder.

//

//

Stop posting picture of your new gf on Twitter!

I'll try

kushandwizdom

2017 is the year of the progressive selfish savage. Do you, grow and glo, and fuck anything or anyone that tells you different. 2016 served us unlimited L's, so turn those loses into lessons and fucking go hard next year.