glass house @irrrridescent - Tumblr Blog

Seen in the window at Gulf of Maine Books in Brunswick, Maine. Photo: Bill Roorbach

my love for me can move fucking mountains.

i am not a question

and i’m not here to ask you to stay.

remember when you couldn’t finish a romance movie because once it started getting good you couldn’t stand it. love songs? blah. next. everyone around you seemed to be falling for another while you’re dancing between the spaces at the bar with a reckless attitude making sure you don’t spill your glass of apathy. do you also remember feeling that sneaky bit of nostalgia of what that used to feel like? like after your girl friend tells you about something sweet a guy did for her, you find yourself filled with ecstatic joy for her.. because deep down you love love. i mean you LOVE love. and you’re hopeful it’ll happen to you again. (right?) it’s always been there. you’ve always been there. you never left. you just got covered from the cynical stacks and jaded judgments. that’s okay. rise and let the dust fall. it’s okay.

all of a sudden you wake up one morning with an aching heart, but this feels different. it’s not from your heart breaking,

instead

your heart is expanding.

#leijenelle #journalentries

2.20.16

we were here before / i remember the lighting, i swear it was for you. large windows that allowed the sun to kiss your chameleon eyes. you were on fire. / we have been and are so many different people / i've watched you walk into a room a different man all too often different bottle, different you (like seasons we change with them) everyone of them i cherished, loved, remembered. i don't look at you the same, we don't love the same and there is more vulnerability then ever imaginable. i'm a smartass and a bitch because i have to be tough, right? there's no letting anyone into this house, my doors are locked and i'm facing the fucking walls. (my softness sleeps peacefully, only sometimes i wake her) / we've lived so many lives. i'm here to collect the rest of my things with a heavy heart and drunk eyes. i don't know what to say because words haven't come to me to explain how i'm feeling, so i'm just feeling. i sigh and shrug way more than i should and every fucking sentence has at least two fucks (no i don't care) / breakfast in bed, coffee black with regret and a bowl full of why’s / we were here before but we were tangled and entwined, threaded with a love so instrumental. here we are now as broken strangers sitting in a coffeeshop (is this what it feels like to fit in)

#nostalgia #journal entries #leijenelle

“the capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. it may look paradoxical to you, but it's not. it is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of another person--without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. they allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other.”

OSHO

i am a drifter, and as lonely as that can be, it is also remarkably freeing. i will never define myself in terms of anyone else. i will never feel the pressure of peers or the burden of parental expectation. i can view everyone as pieces of a whole, and focus on the whole, not the pieces. i have learned to observe, far better than most people observe. i am not blinded by the past or motivated by the future. i focus on the present because that is where i am destined to live.

david levithan

trulyvincent

William Trost Richards (American, 1833 - 1905)

olivialovesleggings-deactivated

Close your eyes and listen

g00d-vibes-g00d-times

I wish this video was 6 hours long

motherofsquids

this is literally my favorite video ive ever seen on tumblr

kerstin1864

…it’s hypnotic…

olivialovesleggings-deactivated

ALSO- I’m glad this is my second most successful tumblr post. A little background about this video: I took it the day there was the nuclear missile threat while I was on Oahu. That morning, I thought it was my last day on earth and I was about to meet my impending death by nuclear missile. After the island was notified that the alert was actually false (mind you it also took them THIRTY-EIGHT minutes to tell us it was fake) my friends and I drove to Costco, bought a bunch of snacks and fruits, and spent the entire day at this beach. We didn’t talk much, as the concept of life and death was all across our minds. I swam in the water during the sunset, and had just gotten out to record the last light rays that remained. This video reminds me how precious life is and how I will always remember that feeling

it’s been raining since yesterday

last night we lit candles and opened all the windows in the house, even the back door, letting the house breathe. welcoming the song. breast exposed, we danced like children in the rain.

ii.

when i was little, i would cry my eyes out whenever there was a storm. i used to be so scared of thunder, even the thunder of fireworks. we would go watch them every fourth of july in an open field full of cars and romantics. i stayed in the car and covered my ears, i thought the sky was so angry. so every time it would storm i would cry and cling to my father for safety, i wanted him to fix it. and every time i cried to him, he would tell me “you’re only scaring yourself.” i was maybe 6 or 7 so it didn’t click with me and i continued to cry through every storm, but then the fear slowed, and i started to listen. every time i would cry i’d think about my fears and how i am able to be strong enough to face them. i remember my friends and i used to have a “rain museum” in the neighborhood. if we were playing outside and it began to rain, we’d wait it out to play with the rainbow and the steamy streets. we couldn’t wait to ride our bikes wildly through the steam and puddles, not missing a single one. the calm. the conquer.

now at 24, my father’s words have rooted abundantly and deep. i scared myself because i associated storms with a terrible thing, i associated it with anger instead of mother, natural, and hey i feel you. i have learned to always acknowledge the storms inside of me. to practice this with any negativity i may be feeling. my favorite days are those when it rains and the sun is still out and there is still a sea of blue above. i take this subtle balance as reflection of life.

listen to the storm and then listen to the one inside of you.

#leijenelle #journalentries

i have always been told i have a motherly energy

i am here to protect, provide, and nurture

i am here to listen and hold,

and carry

i walk with you (i am walking with you)

you are safe with me

i am not here to heal you,

i cannot save you (only you can do that)

but i am here to love you into oblivion

(a point of dizziness that forces you to slow down and recollect)

they call me momma

ii.

silent cries

and loud ones

which one can be heard or rather, which one do people honestly listen to

which do you listen to? are you listening? are you looking passed the mask? do you hear the intent of every breath?

what happens when one has just grown too stubborn and cold,

and scared

to admit and utter the words “i need help too”

#leijenelle #journal entries

lucybellwood

earthstory

View this post on Instagram

Sea stacks on the Oregon Coast

irrrridescent

i have always had trouble with “thank you”’s when it comes to compliments. i don’t believe the kind words, so they ricochet and what stumbles out of my mouth is a purely ditto response as my eyes peer west my head flushes into my collarbones and take shelter between my shoulders

a common response is “you know you’re supposed to say ‘thank you’ right?” believe me i know and i’m sorry but i beg you to feel my sincerity. what if i told you every time i look in the mirror i just see the hurricane in my head (natural disasters happen inside of us, too) i see an untamable riot between worlds inside of me and all i’m trying to do is bring it all together. i love this fight.

until then, call me crazy and brand me naive. call me delusional. call me stubborn but call me passionate. call me courage and paint me sage.

(i realized at eleven that it wasn’t just a game when i was four five and six so forgive my iron-will when i don’t believe you)

ii.

some guy called me hardass one night because i was making sure my gal was taken care of and not thrown into the dog cage. i accepted with a drunken grin because of the alluring mystery of it all: you don’t know me. two nights ago a bar patron told me what he loved most about me is my face and i replied with “well baby it’s gonna change”. i was happy to see that he agreed in silence with a nod followed by a kiss on my cheek

i once read “i don’t owe it to you to be beautiful”, it’s been stained over my eyes ever since