desperate words

mo; blog in progress

[havocwrecked-blog]

babe, all i can tell you is that, one day someone's going to come into your life and break you. the only thing you can do is roll your eyes. you've mastered the art of indifference. keep your head up while your heart's shattering.

don't let him know that he's broken you

[havocwrecked-blog]

I can't breathe when I'm with you. But who knew suffocation could be so beautiful.

we're not fixing each other, we're breaking each other

[xverses]

one day you will leave. i’ve been writing down songs for a mix until that one day arrives, because one day. you will become the one way ticket you’ve been waiting to buy your entire life. she tells me that you hold onto nothing but i know you will hold onto her. i have seen it in your eyes and the thing is, i wouldn’t change a thing. i am glad i met you. i am glad i have seen you. i am so very thankful to have known you. and one day you will leave, and if you take a part of my heart with you, nobody has to know. i know you won’t. the weight of it won’t add a single decimal to your luggage. but the irony is, maybe then, i’ll be relieved of a burden.

 parts of a goodbye letter i wished i never had to write. “2016” (x.v)

[xverses]

I. i will see you looking at me from the corner of your eye and i will smile at you because that’s the polite thing to do, and because i think i want to, but i don’t at the same time. II. i find it hard and easy to talk to you. a simple kind of difficult. you say hello to me, and i always want to reply with good bye. III. i changed your contact in my phone to the word “PARADOX”  IV. i know you write about me in english class,  and sometimes i write about you, and we’ve always joked about falling in love with each other but i don’t think you understand that it’s always going to be a joke to me.  V. i don’t know why. because nobody’s laughing anymore. VI. everyone’s told me it would be so easy for me to fall into your life with the label you want me to be, but the thing is i know we aren’t meant to be together even if we could be.  VII. i don’t know how i know. please stop asking.  VIII. i still think i’m in love with you. just in a way neither of us understand.

for the person who asked "Write about loving someone who you can be with if you chose to but you just can’t. And you don’t know why", (x.v)

[havocwrecked-blog]

prep school New England kids with Ivy leagues in their futures but galaxies in their heads

[havocwrecked-blog]

they tell stories about souls like yours

[backseathood-blog]

put love second. put your education first. put your friendships first. put your travel plans first. put anything else first. because, baby, love isn’t that important at all.

realizations at 3:46 AM (via backseatcal)

[s-un-rise]

follow the person this was reblogged from

[havocwrecked-blog]

this really works for some people (like 10-30 new followers) so give it a try!

[havocwrecked-blog]

I've been drinking lemon juice lately idk why

[havocwrecked-blog]

for fuck’s sake this isn’t about heartbreak or heartache this is about the world ripping me to my core and shaking me down and tossing my very essence into the dirt it’s about the fact that the thought of tomorrow sometimes puts me into a state where i cannot breathe it’s about how the rich keep getting richer while children on almost every continent starve every day and this is about the governments going against groups of people who have done nothing wrong and prejudice and racism and big corporations wondering how they’re going to make even more money while my neighbor waits in the unemployment line everyday this is about how my mother looks at me like she’d rather be looking at anyone else and how the entire universe overwhelming me with it’s sheer size and this is me crying for the stress i get put through eight hours a day five days a week and how that anxiety carries over into my fucking weekend this is not about a dickhead boy or girl toying with my fucking emotions and not everyone who is sad was made that way by ‘unrequited love’ this is about my entire life in pieces and the entire world in a fucking mess

no one broke my fucking heart (via havocwrecked)

[wnq-writers]

But before I go, remember one thing, promise me one thing: be brave when you’re afraid.

wordsbyjm (via wnq-writers)

[findingwordsforthoughts]

heroes aren’t those who withstand fire; no, they are the ones who can burn down and rise up, strengthened by the ash.

marina v., endurance. (via findingwordsforthoughts)

[a-laa-mode]

I am 16. I’m dancing to my favorite pop song at my friends birthday party when a boy whose name I do not even know comes over and slaps my ass. My face flushes with redness and I sit down for the rest of the night avoiding the eyes of everyone in the room. Later, I ask him why he thought it was okay to invade my body without my consent. He says it was a joke. I don’t laugh. I am 12. Every girl in my grade is dragged to the school’s auditorium, where we are told that ‘dressing like sluts’ in ninety degree weather will not be tolerated, and that we will get two detentions if anyone finds our clothing distracting.  Later, I find out that, while we were being lectured on our own bodies, all of the boys stayed in their homerooms and watched a movie, because ‘It’s natural for boys to get aroused, the girls are the ones that have to cover up, they’re causing a problem and taking away from the education of others.’  I don’t understand any of it. I am 7.  I stand up at bat in gym class and blatantly miss the hollow plastic ball that is thrown in my direction. The whole class bursts out laughing. ‘You hit like a girl,’ one of the boys hollers to me. Later, I ask my female gym teacher why hitting ‘like a girl’ is a bad thing. She smiles at me sympathetically as she says ‘Honey, it just is.’ I don’t smile back. I am a girl, and since the day I was born, my gender has become synonymous to weakness, incapability, and inadequacy.

And that isn’t fucking okay. (via laamode)

[wnq-writers]

I don’t like small talk. Talk to me about life. Talk to me about your scars and the concealer you call your smile. Talk to me about the story behind your favorite song. Tell me about your dreams that sometimes seem too big for the Earth to contain. Tell me what wakes you up in the morning before your alarm clock does. Tell me about what makes shivers run down your spine. Tell me about what makes your eyes light up like the stars I can’t see in New York City. Tell me your story.

maxwelldpoetry, “Tell Me” (via wnq-writers)

[havocwrecked-blog]

perhaps I do it wrong then, poetry. rather than search for carefully thought out words, I crave a story. I want the words to shout of passion and pain and terror and magnificence. I crave your thoughts and your feelings thrown out onto a page and your late night contemplations scribbled down or your inner most fears spelled out in the most desperate and meaningful way. I do not crave the structure or the literary elements or the symbolism of poetry. I want you to tell me of your first love. Not about the way you could illustrate them. I want to hear about how they took their coffee. and whether they would use bookmarks or leave open books lying about. I want to hear about your family. I want to hear of the feelings they give you, where they cherish you or hurt you. Tell me about your best friend. Do they know everything that your writing down now? Do you wish you could find a better friend to share your life with? Tell me your struggles and your memories. Tell me about your existence. forget the stanzas. forget the formats. tell me about your essence.

tell me about you //m.a.

[backseathood-blog]

do what you love 

[havocwrecked-blog]

i used to think you were lost in my eyes. turns out, you were just lost

i was just a "phase" to you // m.a.