blake kathryn
No title available
No title available
The Stonewall Inn
Cosimo Galluzzi
★
wallacepolsom
ellievsbear
Today's Document
noise dept.
Claire Keane
gracie abrams
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
Game of Thrones Daily
Stranger Things
almost home
NASA
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
#extradirty
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Egypt
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Türkiye
seen from Egypt
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seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
@paper-princess
the future unfolds like a flower before me. maybe like a magnolia. i see the green bud, full of promise and life. i smell heaven from its center. but i have to wait. it’s a delicate flower, after all. i have to have patience and know when to snip it for myself. i know it will bloom. patience...
today i woke up at noon and felt nothing. the dim glow from my window was melancholic at best. the night before, i had called my friend for seven hours. we said nothing important, did nothing important. she played a video game and i drew. and it felt wonderful.
when i opened the blinds, the world was stained with gray rain. but spring green leaves on the oak trees caught my eye. they continue to grow, just like us. everything moves on, with or without us. i’ve learned that much.
it’s 4 AM and there’s a thunderstorm outside. there’s a poem to be found here but i can’t be bothered. right now my heart is aching because a future i desire is just out of my reach. the days pass and pass and my hopes dwindle. i’ve never felt this afraid in my life. what do i do to ease this pain?
(you wait for the storm to pass. then, decide.)
oma tells me stories of a life lived long before mine. hardships and pains i would never know. she gives me advice from a different era. from a time when children obeyed their parents and mothers loved fathers and god loved the world. she talks into the space where i sit. and i listen, because she has no one else to hear her. i don't mind. i empty my body and become a cup, filled to the brim with her words. i gaze out the window at the green shades of her garden. alive and well. she tells me she doesn't have much more time left here. i nod. the spring sun warms my face.
at the very least, i learn something while i sit there. it happens when i blink, and suddenly the garden is brighter than it was before. the sky becomes baby blue. oma says something about how the days lie before us, and we don't know what to expect. i nod. the days lie before us, neither inviting nor dangerous. they merely are, and they are unknown and frightening all the same.
but that is not what i learn. instead, i learn that my life is real, and living, and breathing. i learn that my days are my own. i learn that there are people worth living for. but i don't really learn these things. i simply remember them. i have known these things all along.
i walk up the stairs and oma follows me with her cup of warm water. the words are gone now, they flowed from her into me.
i do my best not to spill any.
there is still life i haven’t lived yet. though the days melt into each other, it is the hours i should cherish. the minutes. even the seconds. there is life there, struggling and yearning to be free. the rain falling from the sky, watering my thirsty forget-me-not seedlings. the magnolia blossoms, still waiting in their enclosed petals, feeling the raindrops on their buds. the darkening, silent night, filled with the sound of possibility.
the truth is, i don’t want to die yet. the truth is, i am just scared of the future. the truth is, i am not a coward. “everything will work out, eventually.” “you’re the master of your own destiny.” “the future is yours to steal.” i hear it, over and over in my mind. i tell myself. i tell myself. i don’t listen: because this world has convinced me not to. not to hope, not to believe, not to trust a world that seeks to destroy me.
still i live. still i make my bed and open my blinds and drink my coffee and live. i don’t die. i stare in the cracks, in the corners of my room, searching for hope there. someday i will find it. that light-boned, fleeting thing. i’ll catch it with both my hands and let it warm my palms.
then i’ll set it free in the rain.
QUESTION did it hurt when you fell from heaven?
ANSWER yes. my wings decayed. i clutched at star systems to slow the fall and the burns still smoulder, faint shadows of feathers seared into bleeding skin. this is pain? i don’t like it. i want to go back. this aching… this is aching? why are my hands shaking?
l.s. | PICK UP LINES FOR FALLEN ANGELS © 2016
for the first time in five days, i let water pour over me. i washed with soap made from gardenias and lavenders. i scrubbed the oils out of my hair and scented it in aloe. i turned on my hairdryer and blew away the stress of the last week (month, or year,). i patted my body down with a pink towel and moisturized my face.
when i put on my glasses, i woke up and folded the towel away. i put the hairdryer under the sink and slipped on new clothes. i woke up.
the days are drawing to a close. this chapter’s end is coming. what constitutes “mid-may?” how can i make myself accepted onto a waitlist, thousands of miles away? how can i convince myself i deserve it?
how do i water the flowers in my garden so that they bloom? how do i create a future i have no control over? how do i get a girl to love me?
(you wait.)
“good morning, world,” i speak from my full sized bed. without my glasses on, the world is hazy and dreamlike. outside the flecks of blue and green shine across the window. the blankets are warm and welcoming. the sun is nearly at noon.
i take a deep breath. this is how i have been living. see the little things. slow down. be grateful. then get up.
it’s the only way that i can get through the day.
