t r a n s a t l a n t i c i s m

🌙   I'm a war of head versus heart🌙

[oneforthelittleguys]

HELLO MY LOVES.

I know it's been way too long, and that's partly why i'm moving along from this account. my posts are old and a little too cringey for me, haha. so if you don't hate me too much for being away for too long xD, you can find my new rambling and poems at @thumbtacksandsoundtracks. i'm trying to start fresh, if that's okay. much love.

xxoo,

ella

[carriehopefletcher-deactivated2]

I have 4 proof copies of On The Other Side to give away here on Instagram! Regram the cover using the hashtag #OnTheOtherSide ! Remember to read the Terms and Conditions before entering!!! bitly.com/ontheotherside-WIN

[oneforthelittleguys]

Carrie is amazing :) 

[oneforthelittleguys]

these are horrible quality pics ^-^ but check out fairylightsandlove on etsy for these lovely handmade fun things :)

[insteadofdisappearing]

we were the daughters of madness and starlight and vicodin. we were the cigarette butts and late nights with early mornings and late mornings with early nights. we were everything and we were nothing, born of the kind of love you always learn to hate. - we were born early, born special, born scorpio. something about the stars or maybe the mothers or maybe the medicine. something about the november, the hospital, the constellations. we were born ashes, born topaz, born something alien to everyone but us or maybe to only us. we never called ourselves the lucky ones, we didn’t get to. - so we pump our veins with coffee and tar and other things that kill us but hey, at least we’re awake. hey, at least we showed up. hey, we haven’t killed ourselves yet. where the hell are the piñatas? we stopped waiting because what’s the point of playing tug of war when no one is pulling back. - so we try harder. so we do yoga, we drink tea, we take pills. so we see doctors and take more pills and pray. so it’s the end of the day and we’re still tired. we’re still high enough to hide from therapy, still more cyanide than symphony. - so we keep dancing. what i mean is, we try. no, what i mean is, we don’t try. what i mean is, we used to try. we tried til our toes grew sore, til our toes grew numb, til our toes fell off. so we gave up. and what i mean is, we didn’t give up. we got bored, that’s all. what’s the point of dancing when no one wants to watch? - so we stop dancing and people start showing up. and the show must go on even though we’re still tired, even though our toes never grew back, even though we never came down from xanax survival. so grab your ballerina slippers and pretend you still hear the music, pretend you’re still whole, pretend you ever were. so keep twirling, keep curtsying, keep laughing right on cue. we’ve got to give them a show, that’s what they came for, isn’t it? - so we put on a show. so we call it survival. so we dance. they never taught us the choreography but expected us to follow along anyway. so we follow along anyway. so we put on our paper doll dresses and enough lipstick to cover up our bloody wolf teeth. so we pretend we were never the big bad wolf, always the princess. so we smile bigger, never miss a beat. we don’t even know this song. - so the show’s over. so now we’re just trying to dance loud enough to forget. so we still don’t know all the moves. so we stopped taking the pills, stopped seeing the doctors. so we’re still tired, but hey, we’re still pretty, we’re still dancing. so let’s keep the music on, let’s keep our tutus on, keep singing like there’s something to sing along to. so let’s keep calling this survival. so let’s never stop.

so we dance

//

sarah kate osborn (via

allthesinkingships

)

wow <3

[oneforthelittleguys]

hi i love u

i love you too :) <333

[oneforthelittleguys]

Don't feel sad it's such a great day today. What's got you down right now?

thanks, lovely. :) this really made me smile. right now my family’s just in this massive fight and i’m kind of indifferent so that’s been rough. it’s gotten somewhat resolved, though...better than last night, at least! it felt good to write that out, so thank you <33 i hope your day is splendid. 

[oneforthelittleguys]

hi lovelies. anyone want to talk? I'm feeling sad.

[oneforthelittleguys]

I was tagged by @allthesinkingships to do this information thing about myself so, here goes:
name: ella
nickname: eMac, e, ebug
star sign: virgo height: 4’ll (it’s sad) sexual orientation: straight Hogwarts house: RAVENCLAW with hufflepuff tendencies Favorite color: black, blue, grey Time right now: 11:56pm Average hours of sleep: 7/8/9 ish Lucky number: I have no clue…
Last thing I googled: “uptown amphitheater" and “death cab for cutie concert” Number of blankets I sleep under: 2 Favorite artist or band: death cab for cutie, Halsey, some p!atd, Melanie Martinez, tøp, and some weezer. Dream trip: SO MANY PLACES, particularly Alaska, scotland, New Zealand, Australia, Ireland, and France. 
Dream job: novelist, chef, equine/hipotherapist (therapy (physical or emotional, respectively) for children with horses, actress When did you create this blog: last may Current amount of followers: 147 lovely souls 
Current amount of following: 147 What do you post about: Harry Potter reblogs, horrible writing, writing by people we can actually write Who are your most active followers?: I should know this 
When did your blog reach its peak?: what peak it hasn’t yet 😂
What made you decide to get a tumblr?: my sister Do you get asks on a daily basis?: nope :( Why did you choose your url?: it sounded poetic at the time?? so I tag: @woods-and-sailors and @imthinkingtooclear ❤️❤️

[oneforthelittleguys]

hey, lovelies! I know it’s been a while, but I just wanted to check in with you all. first off, I wanted to let you know that I – once my schedule clears up – will begin trying to post more. I’m so excited to get back in to the tumblr world– it’s been too long. the other reason I’m checking in is to tell you guys about camp nanowrimo. it is a program that is part of National Novel Writing Month and the Young Writers Program–a two-three month period for novel revisions, essay writing , poetry, and any other type of writing. this year I am trying to help them raise money. nanowrimo has helped me out so much with my writing and I want to encourage you all to go over to my fundraising page

http://www.classy.org/penniesforpoetry

and check it out!! if you can’t make this work this year, I totally understand–there’s no pressure here. the first five tumblr people to donate over $10, however, and comment their tumblr name, will get a free customized poem by your’s truly. 👍🏻😎💜 thank you guys so much for supporting me and actually reading what I slop onto paper. I love you all so much and hope to see you again soon!! THANK YOU and no pressure at all,

-ella (or Luna)

[oneforthelittleguys]

happy v-day lovelies! 

[whitepaperquotes]

[daisylongmile]

“Ragdoll” - Schuyler Peck

[oneforthelittleguys]

this is so beautiful sky oh my word @schuylerpeck

[oneforthelittleguys]

why you shouldn’t kill yourself

1. You are beautiful. You’ve never seen your one-of-a-kind smile–the not posed one–or the fire in your eyes or the way you shyly dip your head when someone offers you a compliment.

2. We need you. We need your empty coffee cups to fill up the garbage bin, and your wide eyes and twisted poetry. We need your smile, that one that oh-so-slowly creeps across your face, and the crumpled sheets of college ruled paper you toss into the trash.

3. The world needs to see someone who didn’t give up.

4. Darling, I swear that someone out there loves you already, more than you could ever know…just have to find that person.

5. Grow up. Get married and start a family or live alone if you want to. Go to college. Get a job. You deserve more than the fate yo created for yourself!

6. There is no one on the face of the planet that is exactly like you.

7. Someone is going to miss you. Maybe it’s your family, or the quiet boy that lives down the street or the lonely girl who sits at the far table everyday at lunch or the employee at the coffee shop you love so much.

8. YOU. ARE. LOVED.

[oneforthelittleguys]

so you have taken 8,409,600 breaths and walked more steps than you can count. you have crossed oceans and forged rivers, fell into valleys and risen up on mountains. words have poured from your fingertips like ink from your mother’s favorite calligraphy pens and tears from your eyes like rain from the sky, you have made it half an hour into the next chapter of your life and you are breathing breathing breathing, you have taken 480 new breaths already and you are still here. darling, you made it. happy new year.

[fuckinq]

follow the person this was reblogged from

[of-seekers-and-sorcerers]

this is cool ❤️ and I love @ddraco so follow now

[latenightcornerstore]

You’re twenty-two years old, with a lifetime of broken self-esteem weighing on your back. You’re doing okay, though: wearing lipstick in shades that make you look least afraid of being alive. But then you go and fall into bed with a boy whose waist is hardly as big around as your upper thigh, and you spend the next month trying to figure out why someone like him would ever want all of this. I am trying to be the woman who wears her body in double digits, but does not dress her mouth in apologies. The woman who could not be cowed into finishing school quiet, who does not sit with her knees together, who does not have a pretty laugh, who still believes she is beautiful, even when she is the big one in the relationship. But society tells me there is too much of my body for it to be worth anything. See, you can’t solve a recession by printing more bills. To have in excess is to have practically nothing. When a diamond’s not rare, it’s just a rock. When my body is too big, its value depreciates: one step down for every pound over perfect. I spent years unlearning this, but it never went away. Proven by how terrifying it is to be touched by beautiful boys with pianist’s hands and thin hips. I have preached self-love to anyone who would listen, only to be proven hypocrite, snake in the grass, unbeliever in the pulpit. So this body is my temple, and all it took was a pair of thin wrists to destroy it. Every kiss raises questions I am afraid to put words to. When he touches my stomach I have to force myself not to push his hands away. When he takes too long to answer a text message, I can’t stop the feeling that this is it: this is where the daydream crumbles, where he comes to his senses, where reality floods back in. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the rug to get yanked out from under me, for a girl who looks like him to come along and ruin everything. But he is still here. Soft and sharp and gorgeous. There is no part of me he is afraid to touch. I don’t know how to get rid of my fear. But there’s something else underneath: something warm and honey gold and light. Nobody says my name the way he does. When I’m with him, I don’t feel like too much. I’ve spent a lifetime feeling flavor-of-the-week. Maybe this is the beginning of believing in my own permanence. I know better than to put my self-worth in anyone else’s hands– even hands as beautiful as his. I’m not asking him to create my value. I am standing here, head held high, declaring myself inherently valuable and daring him to prove me right.

SKINNY BOYS WITH BEAUTIFUL HANDS by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)

[poeticallyemm]

I am afraid that if I start crying, I may not be able to stop.

e.m.b (via poeticallyordinary)