Born to be Blue. @lylaiah-blog - Tumblr Blog

Adam Jacobs and Courtney Reed as Aladdin and Jasmine on Broadway

Come posso pretendere che la me del futuro sia una persona migliore, quando neanche riesco ad impedire alla me di domani di mandare tutto a puttane?

Naufrago.

Naufrago

Nel lago di emozioni

Piovutemi dal cuore

Una volta scongelato.

- Lylaiah

#poesia #composizione #emozioni #cuore #vita #alive #poetry #lyrics #ritrovarsi #feelings #arcobaleno #introspezione #riflessione #pensieri #notte #acqua #water #segreti

hellshee

I think I’m losing my shit. Shit’s overrated. Lose it.

Non esiste un’altra occasione.

Ciò che più mi ha colpito di 13 Reasons Why è che nella prima stesura del romanzo, Hannah tenta il suicidio ingoiando delle pillole, ma i suoi genitori la trovano in tempo e lei sopravvive. La vita concede ad Hannah una seconda occasione, una possibile rivincita. Nonostante le cose per lei sarebbero state molto più difficili, un futuro sconosciuto, ricco di nuove possibilità, adesso la attende. Ma non era questo il messaggio che voleva dare l'autore. Questo non era il suo intento. Ciò che doveva giungere fino a noi è che la vita non ti deve una seconda possibilità, se ti uccidi. Per te non ci sarà un futuro né alcuna prospettiva, se provi ad ucciderti sarà davvero la fine. E se Hannah fosse sopravvissuta, la potenza del messaggio non sarebbe stata la stessa. Ciò che grida il romanzo, è che la vita è una sola ed una volta che la spezzi non c'è niente che ti riporterà indietro. A quel punto nessuno ti potrà salvare. Tredici è un appello rivolto a tutti coloro che pensano di togliersi la vita, non punta solo a condannare il bullismo o a sensibilizzare le masse nei confronti di questo argomento. Il messaggio è chiaro e forte: “Avrebbero potuto salvarti, ma hai impedito loro di farlo.”

#tredici #13 reasons why #jay asher #riflessione #suicidio #possibilità #romanzo

writeintothenightsky-deactivate

Serenity- Hannah Baker Imagine 13 Reasons Why Scenario

Summary- What happens when Hannah wakes up in heaven,kept company by a certain friendly Jock?

It felt like I was falling,falling forever. It may have been seconds,minutes or hours but the wind rushed through my short hair,the light fabric that decorated my skin,brushing over my face.A dress maybe? I didn’t know.I kept my eyes closed.Afraid to open them. I thought that when you die,you are finished.Nothing more than just a memory.Well,a memory to those who care to remember who you were.Who I was.Hannah Baker,a friend,crush,daughter,classmate, ‘that girl in the hall’,ex-friend,slut. Heaven was a term I toyed with.Something of abstract stability,that keeps everyone tied to the earth at peace for when their own time comes.And it will.Eventually.

Then everything stopped.My hands by my side,I was lying on what felt like a cold floor.I peeled my eyes open,blinking away the blinding light. Raising my knees up to stand,I placed my hand out to stop myself from falling over.The feeling of nausea cursed through by body and I begged it was nothing more than a passing wave.Turning,I raked my eyes over the room,everything was white.The floor,walls,ceiling.It appeared to be a room that had no end. So everything they said was real.This is what ‘Heaven’ is-the cases of people who had near death experiences:the bright light,feeling of peace…It was all true.But I’m alone.I don’t think anyones here,at least no-one seems to be.This is what I wanted.To be alone,the cause of no ones problem,where no-one can hurt me,where I don’t hurt anyone…someone.Clay.Helmet. Has he heard the tapes? Does he think he is to blame? I hope he doesn’t hate me,he deserves someone,someone who wouldn’t ruin him-

“Hannah?”,a familiar voice called,one that I couldn’t quite put a name too.Maybe I was hallucinating.Holding onto one last fragment of what my life once was.Then my eyes fell onto him.

“Jeff?”,my voice quite,the realisation of him stood in front of me “Jeff Atkins!”,I said louder this time.

“In the flesh.”,he laughed at my confusion,he still looked the same.Still clad in his blue liberty jacket that always seemed to fit him perfectly. “I hoped you wouldn’t be here”,he said,hanging his head.

“You hoped….How did you know?”,I asked,confused,knowing exactly what he was referring to but how could he know?He was no longer there.He was with me.Wherever we were.

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you and all of our friends back in high school.Them and my parents.”,he raised a slight smile,his eyes dimmed at the sound of his parents.

“I’m so,so sorry Jeff..it was my fault..If I had just told-”,the grief emptied itself from my body as I stuttered over my words.My body shuddered as a cry escaped my lips,hushed ever so slightly when Jeff pulled me into his chest.I wrapped my hands around his waist,buried my head into his chest. “Hannah,it’s not your fault.” “It is.” “No,you were not in the wrong,you never were and there are other factors but…it doesn’t matter it’s over now.And thanks to you,my parent know the truth.”

“How do you?”,I sniffed and pulled away from him,so that we were standing only a small distance apart.

“The tapes Hannah.As I said I’ve been keeping an eye on everyone.”,he revealed.

“Who has them?”,I rushed out,curious.Ignored how he could possibly ‘keep an eye’ on everyone if we were stuck here.In a room of white and not much else.

“Mr Porter was the last.”

“Mr Porter?That doesn’t make sense,he’s supposed to be the last,I’ve only just…”

“You’ve been gone for a while Hannah.I don’t quite know where,but it seems as if you weren’t ready to be here yet,but now you are.And don’t worry Tony did everything as you instructed,a lot has happened with Justin,Jessica…Clay.”,Jeff revealed much to my relief.

“Clay?..Is he okay?Is Clay okay?”,I asked.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?”, he gestured forward when the room stripped itself of its white sheet,the colours entwining with green,brown,purple and more.Rubbing my eyes,I was now stood on the sidewalk.A red mustang passed with three faces that I recognised.Skye,Tony and Clay.

“They are happy?”,I asked for confirmation,my smile brighter than what it had been in a year.

“More relief,relief of doing the right thing.He loved you,you know”,Jeff revealed.

A silence clung over the both of us,dwelling in our own thoughts.Maybe he did love me but not enough to make everything or anyone disappear.It would have changed some things but not everything.He deserved to be happy.To be loved.But by someone that also radiated the same emotions as he did.Someone that would appreciate him the way Clay Jensen should be appreciated.He deserves that more than I deserved him.

I felt Jeff leave my side,turning he was now a good few feet away from me,when he held out his hand.I looked down at his palm,walking over to him.

“I’ll look after you now”,he said,as I gripped his hand.

We continued to walk down the street,the colours of the earth slipped away as white surrounded the both of us.The serenity calling out to us,calling us home.

gilliansblanchett

Today I am wearing lacy black underwear For the sole purpose of knowing I am wearing them. And underneath that? I am absolutely naked. And I’ve got skin. Miles and miles of skin; I’ve got skin to cover all my thoughts like saran wrap that you can see through to what leftovers are inside from the night before. And despite what you might think, my skin is not rough; nor is it bullet proof. My skin is soft, and smooth, and easily scarred. But that doesn’t matter, right? You don’t care about how soft my skin is. You just want to hear about what my fingers do in the dark. But what if all they do is crack open windows? So I can see lightening through the clouds. What if all they crave is a jungle gym to climb for a taste of fresher air? What if all they reach for is a notebook or a hand to hold? But that’s not the story you want. You are licking your lips and baring your teeth. Just once I would like to be the direction someone else is going. I don’t need to be the water in the well. I don’t need to be the well. But I’d like to not be the ground anymore. I’d like to not be the thing people dig their hands in anymore. Some girls know all the lyrics to each other’s songs. They find harmonies in their laughter. Their linked elbows echo in tune. What if I can’t hum on key? What if my melodies are the ones nobody hears? Some people can recognize a tree, A front yard, and know they’ve made it home. How many circles can I walk in before I give up looking? How long before I’m lost for good. It must be possible to swim in the ocean of the one you love without drowning. It must be possible to swim without becoming water yourself. But I keep swallowing what I thought was air. I keep finding stones tied to my feet.

Hannah Baker, 13 Reasons Why (via evxrythingisblue)

Non ho visto la Barriera Corallina prima che morisse.

cwote

Please, spend your time doing the things that make you happy

Prestami attenzione.

Io parlo tanto, davvero tanto.

Non è qualcosa di cui mi sono resa conto adesso, ma la possibilità che nel mondo dei grandi la mia attitudine di conversatrice potesse non essere apprezzata deve essermi in qualche modo sfuggita.

Neanche l'adolescenza, dea sadica in grado di trasformare l'individuo in un agglomerato informe di insicurezza, ansia e fobia sociale, è mai riuscita ad inibire il piacere provocatomi dalla comunicazione alla vecchia maniera. Mi è sempre piaciuto esprimere la mia opinione sui più disparati argomenti e non ci ho mai visto niente di sbagliato.

L'estroversione è qualcosa di cui tuttora faccio un vanto, ma spesso mi fa sentire inopportuna nell'odierna società sempre più proiettata verso tipi di comunicazione decisamente più moderni e silenziosi. No, non sono molto social, l'unica piattaforma alla quale mi piace approcciarmi è la cara (vecchia) tazza di caffè, con un amico al bar o una interminabile passeggiata di quelle che alla fine hai la gola secca ma la mente illuminata dalle altrui prospettive, pregna di idee e nuove opinioni.

Mi lascia spiazzata come la società trovi strana e spesso inadeguata la mia curiosità verso la storia che il prossimo ha da raccontare, così come la facilità con la quale apro la mente a chi mi sta difronte. Spesso mi stranisce rendermi conto di come le persone non prestino più la dovuta attenzione a ciò che dico o più in generale a ciò che dicono gli altri, come se ormai le uniche cose degne di importanza siano gli screenshot, le frecciatine su instagram, l'angolazione migliore per ottenere quell'effetto "flawless" nei selfie no filter.

Ho davvero bisogno di tirare fuori ciò che ho dentro e se l'unico ente in grado di accogliere il flusso dei miei pensieri, senza liquidarmi con asettiche risposte affrettate, è un pubblico di sconosciuti senza un volto, ben venga. Scrivere sarà sicuramente più eccitante che avere a che fare con persone che un volto ce l'hanno, ma i quali occhi nessuno conosce, poichè sempre puntati in basso nell'incessante ricerca dell'ennesimo trucco per nascondersi dagli altri.