little grey book

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[littlegreybook]

I wrote this when I turned 30 in 2010. I thought I found him once...2014 has got to be my year. -- putting it out there... "i know that he is out there…he’s probably hiding under a red sox cap in a place that i frequent & wondering if i always laugh that loud or if my lips always turn that color when i drink wine. he’s there and maybe i know him or maybe i don’t know him yet, but this is the year we come together & figure it out - from hellos to first kisses to who’s on top. i don’t care how much money he makes - i don’t care about the kind of shampoo he uses or the color of his eyes. i only care how much he makes me laugh, how much he hates to see me cry & what kind of a person he is when i’m not looking. he will be the big spoon to my tall dessert spoon & together we’ll make a life that people say isn’t possible except in great novels. it will be fabulous & i won’t worry about the future anymore." — me, 01.11.10 birthday wishes for the coming year

[conflictingheart]

[ellenkushner]

Don’t talk to yourself in such a way that if you did so to a friend, it would end your friendship. If you had a friend dealing with the same things, you wouldn’t berate that person, say, ‘You’re not working hard enough,’ ‘You suck,’ or ‘You’re not as good as [whomever].’ You’d offer your friend encouragement, you’d try to point out all the things your friend did right, and how much progress your friend had made. You should do no less for yourself. Be very careful how you talk to yourself. Because you are listening.

Pat Cadigan (via whataboutprom)

[writerswritecompany]

I’m a cynical idealist.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via nobodyshippie)

[onlinecounsellingcollege]

As time goes on, you’ll understand. What lasts, lasts; what doesn’t, doesn’t. Time solves most things. And what time can’t solve, you have to solve yourself.

Haruki Murakami (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

[wordsthat-speak]

You are a poem that keeps writing itself at 2 a.m., you know that? A poem that’s tattooed into my veins. A poem that keeps me awake. A poem that will never be finished, will never be able to walk away. You are a poem stuck at the base of my throat, underneath the lining of my tongue held tightly behind clenched teeth.

(via wordsthat-speak)

[larmoyante]

Goodnight and great love to you. We see the same stars.

George Mallory, from a letter to his wife Ruth during the 1921 Everest Reconnaissance Expedition (via perfect)

[mariaarroyo]

Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really, truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love with. Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The kind of laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The embarrassing, earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life is too short not to love someone who lets you be a fool with them. Make sure they are somebody who lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find someone that you want to be there with you through those times. Most importantly, marry the one that makes passion, love, and madness combine and course through you. A love that will never dilute - even when the waters get deep, and dark.

N’tima (via dishevelment)

[butthorn]

[whataboutprom-deactivated201509]

"EVERYDAY AWARDS, Part three"

[maddierose]

Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it. If I wanted to detach completely, I would move my body away. I would stop the conversation midsentence. I would leave the bed. Instead, I hover over it for a second. I glance off in another direction. But I always glance back at you.

David Levithan, The Lover’s Dictionary   (via thatkindofwoman)

[forthewildandfree]

[ginandbird]

Plenty of people miss their share of happiness, not because they never found it, but because they didn’t stop to enjoy it.

William Feather (via thatkindofwoman)

[clementinevonradics]

It is all loneliness, the way you live. You get up and make the bed like you are trying to prove a point. You make coffee that is never quite right and never finish it. This is the third day you’ve worn this shirt. Eventually, you will paint your nails again, wash the grease from your hair. Once you have someone besides your own reflection to impress. You spend more hours not writing poems about him than you do dancing. You go to parties where you know you will only stay an hour. Lean quietly against the wall, watching people with enviably easy laughter. Your smile is a cracked boat in a flooded river. Close, but still useless. You do not talk to strangers, just sit there like a begging dog beside the dinner table, with eyes that say “Please, come, be my friend. I am a coward, but I’m hungry.”

Clementine von Radics, “But Lately” (via chaplen)

[simply-quotes-deactivated202002]

Men aren’t stupid, and you don’t need a complicated set of rules to find a good one who loves you. Here’s the only rule you need: if a man loves you, he will do anything he can to keep you around. Anything.

Kim Gruenenfelder  (via frenchcountryliving)

[lora-mathis]

I have met boys who slipped their hands into my pants while they were driving a car. One hand on the steering wheel, the other creeping up my thigh- because touching me wasn’t something that required their full attention. I have met boys who blushed a deep red when they caught a brief glimpse of my cotton underwear as I uncrossed my legs. Then there was the boy who politely studied the painting on the bathroom wall while I peed at a party and had no qualms about unbuttoning my jeans a few hours later, while we rode in the backseat of my friend’s car. I have tried to forget leaning against a tiny sink and seeing a boy who I thought of as simply a close friend look at my pants like they were the claw arcade game and whatever was down there was something he needed to take home, no matter how many tries it took. I have looked at boy’s fingers as they plucked the strings of a guitar or pressed the keys of a piano and imagined what they’d feel like running down my spine. I have looked at boy’s fingers and wished that their sticky little rolls never once left a salty stain on my inner thighs. I am thinking of being touched as a course I once taught- “Give me your hand. This is my hip, please linger here. This is my chin, please cup it and pull me closer.” I am thinking that perhaps I should retire and wait until the pupils learn to educate themselves, and yet I crave you tracing the shape of my ears the same way you finger the fragile stem of a flower- gently, patiently, like touch is a lesson that you can never get sick of learning.

Please, Play My Ribs Like A Xylophone | Lora Mathis (via soggypoetry) (via elcocotecomera)

[browndresswithwhitedots]

The first time they met she walked toward him with a combination of joy and hesitation in her face that he never forgot. To him that look said I’m here to give you everything as I said I would, but will you have enough pockets to hold it all?

Jonathan Carroll (via browndresswithwhitedots)

[psawyer513]

If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.

Unknown (via katumus)