signed, sober you

26. BP2. The ramblings of a girl who’s been using this account since 2013.

[guccikisses]

[docefotografia]

[oceans-razor]

Poem I wrote after therapy

I deserve love / I have to increase my meds / People with meds aren’t crazy / Am I crazy? / I must be crazy / my therapist said I’m not crazy / Van Gogh killed himself / Arizona is going to lose 21% of its Colorado River in 2023 / I am like the Colorado River / I am harsh and fleeting, running through the world with vigor, all river bends and whitewater rapids / you don’t know how to whitewater raft / I don’t know how to whitewater raft / please don’t let me drown

—

10. Poem I wrote after therapy, inspired by AngelaALowes August writing prompts

[resqectable]

“She was made to appear crazy by the man who drove her there.”

— r.h. Sin

[oceans-razor]

2. Life’s just begun

You mustn’t live like your fate is already written,

Like your choices will not change the world.

Sing loudly, spin around dance floors even when you’re all alone.

Let your footsteps mark every trail and sidewalk.

They say every action has an opposite and equal action,

So set fire to the rain,

Watch the rain put out the fire.

Turn water into wine,

Watch wine turn into purple lips and loud laughter.

Cry over heartbreak,

Watch your heart heal itself and fall back in love.

Stand on a cliff, a real cliff, and shout that you are alive, and you matter, and that your life has just begun.

And if you ever feel like your life has not begun, look for an opposite and equal action.

—Writing inspired by AngeleaLowes august writing prompts.—

[justinchungstudio]

Clinton Hill, Brooklyn.

[oceans-razor]

I sat there, laughing in mock horror while I read, reread, screenshot, reread the post. A small business was using me for their marketing, claiming I was on a weight loss journey with their products.

I wasn’t. I was on a journey to loving my new body. I pretended to be fine with it in front of everyone, told my partner about it, and tried to move on.

But that night, I lay in bed reading, rereading, rereading the post.

I grabbed my stomach, pictured how dumb I must look, reread the post again and again and again….and then I slept and had nightmares of my stretch marks plastered across billboards and advertisements as everything bad about plus size women.

And I read, reread, reread the post.

[oceans-razor]

I was sitting by a small lake in a Northern European country when I realized that no matter how beautiful the world was, you‘d always be my favorite place to visit.

[underwelmed]

source

[oceans-razor]

When I say I miss you, what I really mean is

I miss you and the way your smile makes your eyes crinkle around the edges and the way your hair feels when I run my hands through it. When I say I miss you, what I really mean is I miss your tongue against mine, your eyelashes brushing across my thigh, your gasps of pleasure when I hold your hands down.

When I say I miss you, what I really mean is that I miss your mismatched socks at the foot of the bed, your oatmeal and brown sugar brunches, your goodbye kiss as you head to work.

When I say I miss you, I guess what I really mean is that I miss every inch of every fiber of who you are, from the way your heart pounds in your chest to the way you snore at night, but saying I miss you rolls off the tongue so much easier.

[frachella]

[poems-and-words]

[detectivecarlosreyes]

Can I call it love? 

How can one know what it is like to be in love when they have never been in love before? 

Can you call it love when it is felt in the way arms and fingers brush bashfully when walking side by side or when sitting in peaceful quietness, the space not needing to be filled with words?

Can you call it love when a coffee order is remembered and offered, making one feel seen, and when smiles are both genuine and inviting?

Can you call it love when hugs are comfortable and warm and the safety and comfort that has been yearned for is found within their arms?

Can you call it love when they are the last person you think about when you fall asleep and becomes the first person I most want to talk to?

Can you call it love when acceptance is given freely without question and where a head on your shoulder is both natural and vulnerable?

Can you call it love when understanding is inherent, and no pressure is applied?

Can you call it love when a hand is extended to hold without any expectations or when a kiss is not necessary but may be welcomed?

Can you call it love when the smallest of things such as a touch or a smile or even just a moment can cause your heart to flutter?

Can you call it love even when it’s not a passionate wildfire like one sees on TV  but rather a gently crackling campfire of unending warmth?

  Yes,

You can call that love.

**

For @judsonryder happy (very) belated birthday!  Thank you for humouring me whenever I send you my latest ideas and never following through with them and being my sounding board when I do. ily bestie 🥳

[freshic]

[underwelmed]

sarah bahbah

[rosemvry]

[fabskies]