All The Things! @genderinflux-blog - Tumblr Blog

sillyenfp-deactivated20160130

My chest feels like it is caving in, I am collapsing on the inside. My mind is like a whirl wind spinning around so fast I can’t even focus on a single thought. I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my chest like someone is putting bricks onto it. Like I need to cry an ocean of tears but someone turned off the water to my eyes. I can’t seem to express myself one second I am happy and the next I want to scream the smallest things seem to irritate me and makes me Want to throw pictures off the walls. I want to jump off a bridge and the worst part is I try to convince myself this is all ok. This is normal. I am fine.

(via love-affliction)

poppyflowerpoetry

I’ve been trying to write you this poem for so long, but it keeps coming back to the same things: your hands, your eyes, your smile. The way you taste, like summer and stardust. The night when you wore red and the whole sky was on fire. This is the seventh draft of this poem, baby. I don’t know how else to say it. I’m so far gone. My heart is tucked in your back pocket. I’d steal the sun if you asked. It would be a pleasure to burn for you.

A Poem for My Muse by Auriel Haack (via poppyflowerpoetry)

wnq-writers

I think I understand now why so many artists create out of a place of sadness. Pain is one of the most powerful emotions a soul can feel, and when it holds hands with love, it is intoxicating and overwhelming to the point that such small hearts must project some of that pain into art, music or poetry, or be consumed by it. We can only relieve ourselves of a fraction of that pain though. If we got rid of all of it we would be nothing. Absent. Sometimes our pain, just like our happiness, defines us

Z.M. (via wnq-writers)

imwritingpoems-deactivated20200

I’m sorry if I don’t respond immediately to your I love you’s and I miss you’s. I’m sorry that I keep opening my eyes when I’m kissing you, and reaching for you at night just to see if you’re still there. It’s not that I don’t believe that you love me, I do. I feel it in your touch, and hear the way you carry it inside you through your voice. It’s just that sometimes I think about all the people who have said those same words to me before and then never again. I think about old friends who tell me they have missed me just to be kind, when I know in reality they have not thought about me in years. I think about all the people who swore that they loved me, and tried to fit me into their pockets only to realize that I was too big to carry around with them. I think about all the people that never loved me back. I think about the ones who stopped believing that I was worthy enough for their love. I wonder why you still think I am, why you keep waking up everyday and choosing me over and over again.

M.O.W, March 11, 2015 (via preciselypoetic)

untamedunwanted

Be gentle when you look at yourself in the mirror. Don’t look at the blemish here, or the scar there. Remember that those eyes have meant the world to someone. Enjoy that those lips have been kissed. Love how your face has been stroked. You have been home to someone before. You have brought joy to others. And you have been needed by others because you are the best you they have ever known. But most of all, remember how very important you are to the person standing before you. And try to be the person you need to yourself, too.

When You Look In The Mirror | Nikita Gill (via untamedunwanted)

inkskinned

out there somebody is dying to get close to you. jenny on the third platform is shivering and shifting her feet and hasn’t eaten in a week and her bright blue nails are chipping david on the eighth floor of an office building can’t quite escape the bruises on his cheekbones or how he feels like a magnet set on the same polarity of everybody’s else’s wavelengths so no matter how fast he runs he always seems to push everybody away lex is sitting in lotus in a house full of worse than scorpions - a spilledwine house, a mousequiet thunderloud house - listening to their grandparents calmly inform them that they were born a girl and they should act like it somewhere out there, somebody is dying for want of you. they are sipping their coffee or tea or fruit juice and they feel an emptiness inside of them that has no name, an unexplained wanderlust for no particular place, a hunger that they cannot sate. jenny is cold, a covered-bridge-in-fog kind of girl, full of ghosts and hoofbeats and you will be there on the platform with the sandwich your mom packed and five dollars in your pocket and when she almost collapses, your hands will be the ones to catch her before she can hit the ground david is hurting in the way boys aren’t supposed to, a raised fist flinch that is a rattlesnake he is constantly responding to you don’t laugh when he jumps at loud noises, you talk to him quietly, you ask him if he needs a place to crash, you ask him why his wife’s voice makes his face pale, ask him if he needs an excuse to get away a while lex will be in your yoga class and also orgo chem and their eyes will be painted with sleepless nights and hatred and when you ask them if they are okay, it will be the first time anybody has ever actually wondered about that, and when you don’t take “i’m fine, i’m just tired” as a reply, something very fragile breaks in them in a good way, in a way that the moon comes apart in your hands whenever you need to be reminded that even something as big and brave as the ocean can be ruled by its mother someone out there in this big world needs you without knowing your name - as a lover or a friend or the person that gave them a slice of a ham sandwich and five dollars in bus tokens and lex tastes like springtime whenever you kiss them and your gentle support is a reason for them to stick with it and david is getting a divorce and seeing a therapist about what happened to him and you’ll never see jenny again but she got home safe and the worry on your face and the kindness in your eyes and the taste of that ham sandwich are helping her get better somebody out there needs you and to tell you the truth, helping them will probably help you, too.

Stay. Be there. // r.i.d (via inkskinned)

thebigelectron

Deepak Chopra

sadmyballoonflewaway-deactivate

I couldn’t remember the word tumbleweed

genderinflux-blog

Mental health is so stigmatized that people are afraid to say things like “sometimes I get too sad to even think about getting out of bed”. Talking about anything less than sunshine and rainbows automatically paints you as weak and attention seeking. Well that’s bullshit. I want to know about the times when you were staring yourself down in the mirror begging to hang on for just a bit longer. I want to know about the nights you laid awake for hours choking back tears. I want to know about the scary thoughts that you can’t get rid of. I want to know. I want to know that you’re a fucking human with feelings. Why is this world so afraid of feelings? You know what damages people more than anything? ignoring the very thing that makes us human. our hearts. So I hope you find the courage one day to stop hiding behind indifference. I hope you realize that there’s no shame in mopping yourself off the bathroom floor at four am and pouring yourself into cold sheets where you’ll pretend to sleep for a few hours. I hope you’ll stop letting the world tell you you have anything to be ashamed of. I hope you learn to love your dark corners and sharp edges. I hope mental health battles become badges you wear like karate belts because you battle with your own mind every day and you are still around to tell about it and that makes you a fucking warrior in my book.

untrusteveryone

SHOUT OUT TO EVERYONE WHO STILL TRIES TO GET BACK INTO THE SWING OF THINGS AFTER DEPRESSION HIT THEM HARD. THERE ISN’T ENOUGH RECOGNITION FOR THOSE PEOPLE WHO KNOW THAT THEY’RE GOING TO LOSE INTEREST AND MOTIVATION AGAIN BUT PUSH THEMSELVES TO DO STUFF ANYWAYS. YOU ARE FIGHTING A DAILY BATTLE WITH YOUR OWN THOUGHTS AND YOU’RE STILL COMING OUT ON TOP, YOU’RE ALL BRAVE AS FUCK