Your light spills into all the sharp edges of my broken pieces and I start to feel whole again.
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
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@thesunwillrise-wewilltry
Your light spills into all the sharp edges of my broken pieces and I start to feel whole again.
i got my isbn today for the book. 8 months to go. my mom and i were talking about what the next steps are. i was eating trail mix, standing on one foot, phone tucked into my ear.
"yeah," i said. "the problem is that tumblr as a market is like, not something that can be studied." there's this weird wave of nostalgia and affection for this place that came up over me: how lovely we avoid consumerism. okay, it sucks as a creator. but also? keep stickin' it to 'em.
my mother made the sound at the back of her throat that i also make, the one that means i've got an idea. "you should figure out some kind of reward for presale amounts. maybe you give out poems or a mug or a signed book or something. would your followers like that?" my mother is sweet, and kind, and i have no idea how to explain on this website you can buy someone crabs.
i put more m&ms down the hatch. i had to speak through peanuts and almonds. "if it passes 25 thousand i will print the book out in its entirety and eat it live on camera."
"oh god. no, you don't have to do that." she was anguished. "just tell them that you'd love them to read it, and that they've inspired you to write. you got started on that site, and they helped you keep going. raquel, you love these people. the community? you talk all the time about the other writers and artists and whatever else. tell them that you're hoping for their support, they'll come through."
"no," i assured her. i discovered i had dropped an m&m, but an ant had already found it, so it belonged to him now. i will let his little life have a surprise blue treasure in it, too. "i'm gonna fuckin' eat the book."
it's yours in september, by the way.
i owe you all the moon. i owe every person who read my work and supported me and asked where they could buy the book i-hadn't-written-yet. thank you for being here while i put my life & words in order. thank you for being mine, in the way we are each other's. i'm yours too. i have been on this site since i was 19. i am now 30 (yikes). we have spent over a decade together. you have all watched me process each part of my life.
and yes, it's stupid, because it's just a broken little website. but. and not in despite - but because of how silly it is, that we are here and it is community, and we have somehow all survived -
it's our little home. and i fucking love you guys.
Inkskinned was a lifeline when I was a struggling teen. Excited for this!
oh i don't know what young adult needs to hear this but you should google what day your 10,000th day will be & set a reminder in your calendar. it happens somewhere in your 27th year. i was really bummed when i googled my own and found out i had missed it by like 2 months.
(if you missed yours too, no worries, we both get another chance to celebrate 15,000 at 41. Unfortunately you will be 54 years old before you are 20,000 days old, at which point we will have overthrown the concept of linear time anyway)
life is very cute, and you have struggled a very long time to be here, and i love you. sometimes i think we need to invent our reasons for celebration. maybe today you are 10,345 days old. or 12,345. or 8,435. maybe u should just celebrate because it is a weekday, and those are hard days. i love u , light a candle and blow it out. i'm proud of you for staying.
James Baldwin.
shout out to everybody whoâs unlearning the old habits that wonât serve them in their next chapter of life. letting go is difficult, counterintuitive, and disorienting. itâs also worth it.
butches of any gender are objectively hot
Your light spills into all the sharp edges of my broken pieces and I start to feel whole again.
Itâs been a while.
Battle wounds
The scars remain,
reminding me of all the times I have
hurt,
but overcome.
Of all the times I have healed.
Stretch marks appeared
when I grew
out of myself,
into myself,
despite myself.
These battle wounds
I am not yet able to honour,
the grief of losing innocence
still overwhelms me.
One day I hope
I will triumph
in surviving the war.
Your arms feel like safety.
You smell like coming home.
This is how itâs meant to be.
thesunwillrise-wewilltry
âIâm not saying youâll find the meaning of life in other people, Iâm saying other people are the life to which you provide the the meaning.â
â Neil Hilborn - This is Not the End of the World (10/10 would recommend listening)
january is one of those months where you experience every feeling on the human spectrum and you just have to go about your day like that isn't happening
â1. Some people will stay, some will leave. There is always a reason for both. 11. If you have a bad feeling about someone, youâre probably right. 111. Never put those bad feelings at the back of your mind just so you donât have to be alone. 1v. Being alone isnât all that bad. v. But donât isolate yourself, the loneliness will make you feel like the only person in the world who feels like this. v1. You are never the only person who feels like this. There is a statistical certainty that youâre not alone. v11. Be logical about people, donât just compare them with other people who are no longer in your life. v111. But be realistic. 1x. Not everyone will understand or be there for you when you need them. Donât expect them to. x. Even if someone canât empathise with you, everyone can listen and try to understand. x1. These people are worth keeping. x11. But people change. x111. Accept that. xv1. You will have bad days. And bad weeks. xv. On these days⌠rest, drink some water, do something to distract yourself, spend time with your favourite people or your favourite fictional characters. xv1. You donât always have to be productive. xv11. Sometimes surviving is a big enough victory for today.â
â 17 things I learned in 2017
Also relevant 2019 đ¤ˇđťââď¸
Battle wounds
The scars remain,
reminding me of all the times I have
hurt,
but overcome.
Of all the times I have healed.
Stretch marks appeared
when I grew
out of myself,
into myself,
despite myself.
These battle wounds
I am not yet able to honour,
the grief of losing innocence
still overwhelms me.
One day I hope
I will triumph
in surviving the war.
These walls are cold
like dreams that never were;
unloving,
unyielding.
This isnât home anymore.
Iâm starting to wonder
if it ever was.
Upper Peninsula of Michigan | guth.co