A Student on Leave

[thequotejournals]

If you find yourself constantly trying to prove your worth to someone, you have already forgotten your value.

Unknown (via thequotejournals)

[wnq-writers]

Allow me to be a mess for a little longer, allow me to complain and whine for a bit. Don’t tell me it makes me weak, tell me it’s okay, tell me I will heal.

kriti-g (via wnq-writers)

[writerpoetstoryteller]

I won’t condemn you, Wild creature, Live alongside me, And don’t you dare, Domesticate, Your feral glory.

wild // a poem (via writerpoetstoryteller)

[tamkanatz-blog]

Garlic chicken with yogurt-mayo sauce #myrecipe

[wnq-anonymous]

Sometimes pain doesn’t help you grow. Sometimes it just hurts.

Anonymous (via thelovejournals)

[thelovejournals]

I love you more than words. And I am a big fan of words.

Joe Dunthorne, Submarine (via thelovejournals)

[amadeuswolfe]

🌞🌞🌞

[irregularspace]

Viewed

Being, is like water… Only in stillness, can we be viewed in its reflection.

[tamkanatz-blog]

I am not the only one ... Not the only one who wishes they were not so invisible, who wishes they were not so helplessly dependent on others for love and nourishment of the soul ...

[tamkanatz-blog]

Do you see me?

Ultimately all I really wanted was to find someone who cared enough to see I am not okay. And I didn't find that. Not in you, you whom I thought would know instantly. Now my insecurities are gnawing away my insides zealously. And I watch .... What else can I do?

[poems-she-wrote]

I see those tears in your eyes, I wish I could wipe them away. But I can’t reach my hand through the mirror between us.

p.s.w (via poems-she-wrote)

[wnq-writers]

Sometimes the youngest must be the most mature, and the smallest has to stand tall. For wiseness doesn’t come with age or experience. Only in conjunction with pangs of pain the heart feels when someone else is hurt. Yet the heart feels as if someone else is simply themselves. Feeling another’s pain and putting aside your own, there comes wiseness… No matter how young or small.

altermynative  (via wnq-writers)

[honest-for-mendes]

nowadays, you never know… take your few seconds and read this, you might need it someday. so helpful

[poweredbylithium]

Google crowd crush (and gain a new fear)

[kpovoc]

You say you love others who are as torn apart as you are. Wounds may be similar, but you see no two scars are identical. We may be torn apart and our destruction may be alike, the final factor though, the frontier between peoples pain is that we’re affected in different ways.  I tap the bottom of a bottle and spit out the first drink ever since last May. I flinch every time and my heart starts to shake, not beat faster or slower, but shake. I’m positive that I’m going to die one of these days because of it. My friend tells me theres nothing wrong with me, but what will they say if I overdose?  If I simply disappear? You may cry sometimes and wish for things. You may do things to attempt to forget, or for a good time but it’s not the same. We aren’t as torn apart as each other. You have a past, I have a past,but more of an ever-unrolling wrapping paper type of a past. There’s always more than you thought there was. Please do not misinterpret my message, I’m not saying I’ve suffered more, I’m saying it’s not the same. We may both be torn apart, but. No two scars are identical.

Snowflakes (via kpovoc)

[bggrizzo]

5:30 AM

we burn down skies and drown stars in table salts and diesel engines

we’ve killed gods with encoded words spelled out two digit Unicode

unicorn slides and smoking starfish with cancerous legs

crimson stained syllables stichted with crushed sugar lips

teach me the ones and zeroes of how the blood pumps to and through our hearts

sprinkle salt in my cuts let your lips do what they choose

B.E. Grissom 5/23/17

[tamkanatz-blog]

This is so beautiful...

[watercolorliberation]

“Wake up!”, she said, with a finger hovered over her lips A violent red energy collects at her hips I saw the color in my sleep-drunken stupor Like headlights on highway signs How does everything manage to look neon? So fucking neon? “Wake up!” she jumps on my bed and shakes me awake, she shakes the frame and the floor and the ceiling fan cries with the door – “What is all this chaos for!?” “Wake up!” The powder shoots like bottle rockets into my sinuses, I think the Russians were the first to explore space But that doesn’t matter to me at all. “Wake up!” I’m six feet tall. “Wake up!” I slam my foot on the breaks and the fabric of the sky splits in two as if God himself were tearing the veil that separates. “Wake up!” I’m a jungle cat, I don’t give a fuck, I’m a stagnant pond, I’m a swerving truck “Wake up!” I’m drinking tea on a front porch somewhere, anywhere that looks like a calendar filled with bucolic landscapes I’m a quote gathering dust above the kitchen sink – Something about how “home is where the flowers grow” “Wake up!” Do I really want to know how much that mantle piece shook when a body was slammed up against the wall? “Wake up!” I’d rather not. “Wake up!” Shut up. “Wake up!” The only release I have is the ink at the end of this pen, An isolated touch. “Wake up!” It’s always my dreams that promise too little, It’s always me who wants too much.

It’s too early for me here (via watercolorliberation)

[kpovoc]

You say you love others who are as torn apart as you are. Wounds may be similar, but you see no two scars are identical. We may be torn apart and our destruction may be alike, the final factor though, the frontier between peoples pain is that we’re affected in different ways.  I tap the bottom of a bottle and spit out the first drink ever since last May. I flinch every time and my heart starts to shake, not beat faster or slower, but shake. I’m positive that I’m going to die one of these days because of it. My friend tells me theres nothing wrong with me, but what will they say if I overdose?  If I simply disappear? You may cry sometimes and wish for things. You may do things to attempt to forget, or for a good time but it’s not the same. We aren’t as torn apart as each other. You have a past, I have a past,but more of an ever-unrolling wrapping paper type of a past. There’s always more than you thought there was. Please do not misinterpret my message, I’m not saying I’ve suffered more, I’m saying it’s not the same. We may both be torn apart, but. No two scars are identical.

Snowflakes (via kpovoc)