ellievsbear
Claire Keane
will byers stan first human second
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
tumblr dot com
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pixel skylines
titsay
Janaina Medeiros
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JBB: An Artblog!
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almost home
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
$LAYYYTER
oozey mess
shark vs the universe
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
One Nice Bug Per Day
seen from Uruguay
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland
seen from Switzerland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@moodietonic
I noticed that his small eyes sparkled, reminding me of stars in the night sky. It suddenly struck me that I did not want to look away, like staring at a beautiful painting and being in such awe at how impressive and beautiful it is that you spend minutes just drinking in all the details.
I have longed to be chosen. Not just chosen, but the preferred choice, not one you make when you realise your options are slim, but one you yearn so desperately for you cannot see yourself having anything else. As a child, I would watch the fondness between parent and child through a screen, tracing the edges of my desire but never truly experiencing the joy of filling the image with colour. I experienced friendship as people simply walking by me. They never truly knew me; they simply were brushing past, but I had such a gnawing desire to mean something to someone, anyone. I lunged at them like a mad woman, eyes blaring with a deep desire to be loved. They wrestled free of me, not caring how they threw me, how they damaged me. I gave up on the idea of love, on the possibility that I could be loved so deeply that it reciprocated the way I loved.
Bibliomaniac
We conversed for an hour that felt like a second. I was enraptured by him, and I could not name why. My heart came alive in his presence, and it occurred to me that it would be terribly easy to love him.
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
Bibliomaniac
I write this as you ruin me, I am paralyzed by love and I have come to hate it. You rip the skin from my body and I let you, I assist you in an effort to show that I love you and you need not do this to me. I wonder if you will see that I am bare before you, that I am entirely yours and awaken from this daze and simply hold me with care. You are not loving me correctly and I do not know how to get around your ego to your heart to let you know. For I believe that you can, but perhaps I am just another fool in love staring at a rabid dog and convincing myself that it will not harm me.
Bibliomaniac
love in poverty
I have been abandoned before, Left at a moment’s notice, Afraid and forgotten. I have experienced despondency At an age when I lacked the ability To elucidate my emotions. I have desired death On the very playground Where my peers were filled with joy. I have known hunger intimately And stouthearted. I have known love in poverty, And I oddly yearn for it
Who am I?
When it is all said and done who am I truly? What am I meant to create? What emotions am I meant to evoke? There is so much that I desire to be But there is so little that I am. I yearn to be one with the wind, To be covered by the soil of creativity And be borne a true jade vine. To be rare and admired. I desire more than I am and possibly could ever be. I yearn to know who I am So that I can stand confidently in the way that I am perceived.
LOVE
Find a home within me. Leave your comfort at the door. Engulf me with the fire within your soul; our love will weave itself into a resistance. Speak aimlessly—I will listen with great focus. Tell me the things you wish to be heard. Grasp my hand and guide me through the complexities of your mind. Burden me with the load of your trauma, of your worries, of your secrets. Let me hold you as you fall apart. I will be your sculptor, melding the fragments of you, then marveling at the beauty of who you are
envy
Envy enveloped me, With a knife positioned to pierce into my back. I desired to be her and her and her. I never gaze at who I am, For I do not know how to look upon myself fondly, Without desiring more— More beauty, More poise, More elegance, More. I want to be everything. I want to be the earth, the wind, and the trees. I want to be the flowers, the gardens, and the bees. I rarely desire to be me, And in the moments that I do, I find areas to augment, For I must be more. The little I am Is merely the torch that burns the fire, That heats the pot of potential brewing inside me. More, more, more— The echo of my desire whispers
I didn't desire death I desired attention. I would rather you misunderstand, wanting to die seemed less pathetic than wanting you to look at me.
My parent's anger amid their lacking has always been justified and to judge them would be my form of blasphemy, nonetheless, my pain is real and I was never meant to be an outlet for frustration.