cassidee @sunsetsasthedaysmoveon - Tumblr Blog

praying

another-bujo-blog

Journal Prompt Ideas

A phrase/poem in as many languages as possible

nail polish swabs

describe a specific place without giving away where that place is

dedicate a page to one object/thing/person (dogs, eyes, flowers, etc.)

confess something

recreate a famous piece of art in your own way

make a page for every funny quote a friend says

If __________ blank were a person (can be anything: flowers, months, books, colors, etc.)

write a story with your left hand

fill a page with different fonts

fill a page with a song (lyrics, symbols, music notes, whatever)

make color palettes and name them

write down everything you can remember about a person

ways to say I love you

wrappers of favorite candies

blackout poetry

write an interesting conversation with no indicators of emotion

describes someones eyes without using colors or the word “color”

interview yourself

interview a stuffed animal

record every nice thing someone says about you

write a letter to someone

describe a friend (and draw them!)

Make a list of songs from your childhood that you still like

try a wreck this journal prompt

sew a design into your pages

sew a piece of fabric into your pages

bullet your whole day

put music on shuffle and write everything you associate with that song while the song plays. move on to the next song as soon as the first one ends

write all the lyrics to a song without listening to it or looking it up

write gibberish in a pen that smudges a lot

just-shower-thoughts

When I die I really hope someone finds and appreciates my Spotify library.

coltre

fredersen

all english teachers are either chaotic good or lawful evil

contrast

sleepin

I don’t know what I think. All I know it that most of the time, I would rather be with him than anyone else I know.

me: thinks about u

my heart: :o 💖✨💫💕💘⭐️💝🌟💚🌟💛✨💫💕💕💫💘⭐️🌟💗💝💓💛💕💖

saying

fuckyeahsexanddrugs

*puts on makeup to do nothing*

bedfish

reblog my selfie

William Shakespeare (via 123123242543636)

inkskinned

it is a wide night and your throat is closed at the base of it. his hand and your hand are two satellites that have lost contact, searching for each other in the bleakness of space and grasping only loneliness. you and he sit in a cooling car and lean the seats back and struggle to say the intangible. you ask him for a secret so for once you can hold a vulnerable part of him. after a silence so long it breaks your ribs he says that there’s nothing in him but horror stories. he tells you to watch your hunger, that even honey tastes bitter when you drown in it.

it is a slow moon. you are alone now and the road is a howl and you won’t put on your seatbelt. your fingers are tight, could explode your bones into the loving embrace of a brick wall. you want to call him and ask him if he has ever accidentally drank his own sorrow because yours is sitting against your voice box and won’t choke down. instead you turn the radio up in the hopes that you will feel something when you listen to this song.

it is an indigo blackness. you never learned how to hold your own body without letting bits of it fall out. your hands are on the steering wheel and at 60 miles an hour if you wanted it bad enough you could come back to dust. when people fall out of love with you they make swatches of big bruised absence and if you were a color you’d be all of that, painted under your toes up to your numb lips. does he know that your smile is a paradox, a sad happiness, an empty full. does he know that you sing so loud to drown the voices out. the funny thing about dying is that humans live beside it until the moment they yank the wheel the wrong way and collide with their end.

it is a venom moment. your mouth is turning into a wasp nest. you are so close to calling him and telling him everything. show him you know what it’s like to be a falling elevator. tell him that you have secrets too and they might have matched him. tell him that you’re a safe place if he needs a person to run to about his brain burning. explain about how even though neither of you has got a steady tongue you can both talk out your ice flows until they melt into the dawn ocean. turn this car and yourself and your life around. bite down on it and suck the snake out.

it is time to go home. you turn up the radio. in the bitter morning, you make yourself tea with honey.