Anyways! *climbs out of the scattered and ruined debris of my feelings*
will byers stan first human second
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Anyways! *climbs out of the scattered and ruined debris of my feelings*
She was like something I had either dreamed or had remembered from some large, ornate book my mother had read to me as a childâa book of fairy tales or a biblical primer for children. In either she was virtuous and beautiful and perpetually in danger, too good for this earth, alien to ordinary people.
Tennessee Williams, referring to Lillian Gish, quoted in Follies of God: Tennessee Williams and the Women of the Fog (via violentwavesofemotion)
Today and always, I ask you to forgive yourself, to treat yourself gently because sometimes the world hurts you so bad that you are the only person that will be kind to yourself that day, and baby you donât need anymore pain. I ask you to look in the mirror and make amends with your crooked nose or those freckles you hate or the way your hair sticks up in one place no matter how many damn times you brush it because the truth is there will never be someone who has your exact nose or freckles or hair and it is so uniquely and beautifully you. I ask you to stop worrying about what others think of you because people will find something to make you hurt, because sometimes we judge others without even realizing it, because people are messy and flawed and we are all trying to find space for ourselves in the cracks of others. I ask you to love and love and love your lover and your passions and your dreams and your art and yourself because this life is so very short and I wish I could tell you itâs going to last forever, but it will escape us one day and leave you with gray hair and feeble hands.
Itâs time to love yourself this year. (via dollpoetry)
recently iâve been into the whole romance thing like i want to feel that warm feeling you get when you find someone you really like
When someone is stabbed, youâre told not to remove the knife. Once itâs removed, everything begins to fall apart. In less than ten minutes, someone could bleed out. She still isnât sure which of them stuck the blade in her stomach, but she refuses to pull it out. Instead, she embraces it. âDo you love me,â she asks, still not facing him, âor do you just hate the idea of losing me?â Itâs silent, and she does not know how to read this situation. If she turned around, she knows the emotion would be clear on his face because he has always been an open book. For her, he will always be an open book. She doesnât turn around, though, and she realizes that she doesnât want to see his faceâsee the destruction that sheâs caused. He says her name then, and his voice is level; it twists the knife. He says, âWhy do you do this?â He says, âIâm not losing you. Youâre running away.â And he says, âI love youâgod knows that I love everything about youâbut weâre falling apart. Youâre tearing us apart.â Finally, she turns around, and sheâs not sure what she expected, but it surely was not this. Heâs cold, blank, torn apart and carelessly sewn back together. He is covered in herâcovered in her heartbreak. âI needââ He clears his throat, hides any slip of emotion. âI need you to let me go because I donât have the strength to do it myself.â And at that moment, she realizes this is no longer a game. All this time she thought she was being selfish with her heart, but this boyâThis boy makes her wish things were different; he makes her wish that she was different. Thatâs why she sucks in a rattling breath, and thatâs why she forces those selfless words past her lips. She swallows the pain and tries to cure the heartbreak when she says, âYou should leave.â He winces. He looks like he wants to take back his words. He looks like he wants to stay, and he looks like he wants to cross the room in three steps and pull her into his arms and stop her from slipping away like water between his fingers. Looks, however, have always been deceiving. He leaves, and he takes the knife with him.
H.L. // excerpt from a book Iâll never write #44 (via 451seconds)
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Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, thereâs no place youâd rather be. Kiss her but not like youâre waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like youâve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like youâre the brightest thing sheâs ever seen. Kiss her like sheâs the brightest thing youâve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate youâre ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
Azra.T âthis is how you keep herâ (via 5000letters)
always check yourself for unnecessary negativity and bitterness
The day life made you well and whole / I let the witches take away my guilty soul.
Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems: â[The Double Image,]â (via violentwavesofemotion)
*Still uses pinky promises as a legitimate foundation of trust*
When youâre in the middle of sobbing and you start dissociating so youâre like âokay Iâm done nowâ and turn into an emotionless zombie
Iâm fighting myself. I know I am. One minute I want to remember. The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting. One minute I want to feel. The next minute I never want to feel ever again.
Benjamin Alire Såenz, Last Night I Sang to the Monster (via wordsnquotes)