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getting to know your psyche, pt. 1 (2019)
Leave me the way that I left you. Stay with me the way I stayed when you were drunk and drifting. Hold my hand again, if you’d like, if you want to. Take me home tonight, ask if I’d like to see what your nightstand looks like because I have forgotten. Everyone’s hair changes with the seasons and I have a heart like a dam breaking, constantly overflowing. This is springtime, this is growing. This is wanting to try again, and knowing that our atoms do not know each other anymore and still wanting to try. I want to get lost inside of your oceans. I am a piece of driftwood- beat me senseless with your mouth until I am red, until I am jagged and wanting more. Leave me the way I left you.
leave by madeleine van dam (via madeleinevandam)
being gay doesnt excuse you from being transphobic and racist lmao whoops
Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. The kisses, the “I miss you” hugs, the cuddling, the love. Everything about falling in love is what makes a person remember how great it feels to have butterflies in your stomach and to have your heart beat so fast that your chest is going to explode. Being in love with someone is amazing. But being in love with your best friend, god that is fucking the best thing I could ever ask for. Being in love with the person that makes you laugh so hard that you nearly have snot coming out your right nostril and makes your stomach turn inside out. Being in love with the person that you share secrets with and gossip about people with, the person that says “fuck her baby, she don’t know a damn thing” kind of best friend. The person that you can lay next to at night and can’t sleep until 3 am because you were talking about how people can’t learn their damn differences between they’re, their, and there, and then laugh about it. The person that you argue with about what kind of food you want to eat, or who’s going to be the one to get up from the bed and turn off the light. The person that you can lick their face and they won’t look back at you with a confused face, but sticks their finger up your nose. The person that won’t only being the shoulder to cry on, but the shoulder that will bring you back up and make you stronger than before. The person that will tell you whats wrong and whats bothering them instead of being distant and ignore the situation. Loving someone that you can share memories and laughs with, god it is beautiful. Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. But being in love with your best friend, that is the most wonderful thing I could ever ask for.
I’m in love with my best friend (via burmous)
I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word “home” means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bed room when you were 8. See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms? Or would you leave the snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad, even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name. And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving. And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.
Andrea Gibson (via toynadactyl)
love yourself first, it makes things easier.
I have whiskey and weed and flowers and notebooks. I have good sweaters. I have my 8am alarms and mason jars filled with water. I have a few potted plants. I have a hairbrush that I don’t like to use. What I’m trying to say is, you are not welcome here. You and your blackberry stained lips, your soft hands. I have roots going far deeper than just alcoholism and abandonment issues. My own scars scare me, but I am doing just fine. Do not think you are special because I compare your likeness to the moon. Menthols will still taste like menthols when you leave. There will be mirrors to smash after you go, and there were mirrors to smash before you even showed up at my doorstep- windblown and rosy. What I’m trying to say is, turn the lights off when you leave. I already have an exit plan, a flight map. An itinerary of all the places I’ll visit alone. I don’t need you or your hips. I have an ocean inside of me and I will drown your ass with a force that is nothing short of spectacular. I am whole, I am whole.
a quiet reminder to me by madeleine van dam (via madeleinevandam)
Baby, please, come over. I’ll roll you a honey joint- sweet and sticky. I’ll make you tea. Leave the world at the door. The wind has nothing on your smile. Storms cannot compare to your fingers in mine. The weather means nothing to me anymore. Baby, please, let me love you. I want to know your edges. I want to scream with you in my car, windows down like a pop song; like a goddamn lesbian indie flick. Baby, please, pour yourself on to me. Spill yourself on to my red sheets. I won’t complain about the mess because I’ll spill too. Our definition of entropy will be humble, chaotic, ground-breaking crystalline, rapture-inducing, holy, and most of all, it will be freeing. Baby, please, have faith. I’ll let you pick the curtains. I’ll hold you when you cry, and I won’t judge if you don’t want to go to class for the sixteenth day in a row. I promise to try. I’ll bring you pizza in bed and hold your hair after I pressure you into taking that last shot. I’ll blow smoke into your lungs, if you want me to; if you let me. Baby, please, hold me. Sometimes, not all the time. I can be a mess of bloody knuckles and crooked glasses. When I get really nervous, I kiss with my eyes open. I pretend to be more grownup than I really am. I feel small inside my skin. My mouth is always wet with longing. I’ve always been a hard sell, and this is no different.
baby, please: a plea by madeleine van dam (via madeleinevandam)
Excuse me but you’re going to have to check out these memes of Joe Biden plotting booby traps in the White House before Trump takes office
Enough said.
I never expected her. Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know you ever lived without them.
Elle Kennedy, The Deal (via thelovejournals)