a history of bad decisions @transsparent-lies - Tumblr Blog

devils-queen

✞ 666 ✞

coffeeandpoetrydarling

“Being with him felt like hell most of the time but I loved him so much I convinced myself it was my heaven.”

— n.g. // I would have gone to hell for him

Never satisfied

can’t wait to be a 40 year old woman who’s healed from her trauma and loves going grocery shopping and lives with lifelong but manageable mental illness. and gives people nice presents on their birthdays. and I’m looking forward to being 75 and sitting on the porch in the summer when the sun is shining.

francisforever2014

how do you just get up and deal with the fact that there’s a last time for everything. there was a last time you sat on your dads shoulders and there was a last time your mom tucked you into bed. there’s going to be a last time you kiss your sister on the head and there’s going to be a last time you hug your best friend. there’s going to be a last time you feel exactly as you feel right now and there’s going to be a last time that person says i love you. i need to lay down

medievalthymes

sorry i can’t hang out today. i have plans to lay face down in a river. yeah no it’s going to be an all day thing.

bloodybellycomb

There could be an entire semester long college course solely dedicated to the impact that supernatural had on internet culture

Solstice

the nights are bitter

but the days drag long.

an endless desperation,

for warmth; Enveloping,

Swallowing, Consuming.

once autumn comes to a close and leaden clouds loom overhead.

the winter sun reminds me of you,

beautiful and rare, yet,

it radiates no heat.

the frost does not yield,

the snow does not melt.

the darkness seeps in,

encompassing everything in its path; quickly, hungrily.

twilight, the sun sets

and the world becomes tenebrous.

silently, i welcome the dark.

with open arms, i let the

feeling of emptiness wash over me.

a lifetime on my lonesome.

much time has passed, my love,

and somehow, i still miss the bittersweet feel of winter.

And your ice-cold hold on my heart.

you are my winter solstice.

#poetry #amateur poetry #original poem #winter #solstice

randomshenaniganery

My case for longer haired Howl:

btw i will add in new pics every time I have a doodle of him

inkskinned

oh. an ode to trying. when it is enough, just to love something enough to keep-being-bad-at-it.

i am not talented in dance. i am not being humble; i just don't have the effervescent something that belies talent. when i write, i know what talent looks and feels and slides like. how it tips. i've been dancing just as long as i've been writing. i'm just better at the writing bit.

but i dance anyway. i dance around my kitchen and i practice the arms for the choreo in my car and i google tips. i get up early on weekends to go to classes. even though i have proficient skill, i will never be a soloist or even particularly good at it.

there is this idea that to not be the best at a passion is tantamount to failing. you try out ice skating but cannot immediately land a turn; which means you aren't going to be a skater, which means you should stop skating altogether. you only knit scarves and don't know how to cast off; just give up. either you go to RISD and get a "real position" as an animator or you're not really an artist.

an ode to what you keep anyway. an ode to passion and drive just for the enjoyment of it. i know we say it's better to try and fail but what if failure was never really a part of it? what if there is no failure here, because love and effort are already successes?

there is no such thing as an effort of love wasted. if it ever brings you peace or joy or excitement - it was worth it.

every doodle in your margins, anime-eye-on-the-homework as a kid. the calligraphy pens while you were trying out new handwriting. the notebooks with short stories where everyone dies in the end. never being first chair in band as a kid, but as an adult still playing your instrument. trying literally because it feels good to try.

i just started adult classes in portrait drawing. i never got taught when i was younger, and, again, i have no natural talent. i am often frustrated, staring at what i made, wondering why i'm not excellent yet.

but i leave knowing - i tried. and trying is worth it.