Like Being Underwater

all the cool mermaids write poetry

[vainmermaid]

He thinks he's hard to love  and I know I am. Maybe that's why we tore each other apart trying to get inside.

lyrics from the song I’ll never sing (vainmermaid)

[watchoutforintellect]

I prefer devouring passions.

Emil Cioran, from On the Heights of Despair (via violentwavesofemotion)

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

Write it. The thing to do is simply write it and be brave enough to cancel it out if it’s no good.

Ernest Hemingway, quoted by Martha Gellhorn in one of her letters (via violentwavesofemotion)

[vainmermaid]

Tell me what to do. You never had a problem before. Back when the world chose to keep from me my inability  to commit myself to a passion. Tell me who I am. You never did. I naively took as gospel  the sense of self I had my entire life, only to feel the sting of salt  as I sludged through adulthood. Tell me where to go. You never told me to stay. But this acidic home sealed me  to its concrete floors and windows. And I don’t think I have it in me  to peel off what I can salvage. Tell me who to love. You thought you could. But cautious was all I felt knowing all imaginary friends die, and I cared too much for this one to watch it fade with age. Tell me what to do. You don’t want to. But it’s all becoming so dense. The rubber band snapped, and my palms can’t keep  the thick strands together any longer.

vainmermaid

[definegodliness]

During the age of medieval torture, one would actually be screwed if they’d have a high pain threshold. While the ones with a low pain threshold would simply faint early on in the torture, the ones with a high pain threshold would have to endure the excruciating pain all the way to the point of (their usually false) confession.

My highschool history teacher (and the first time I realized toughness could be a weakness). (via definegodliness)

[lublutravkuidinahui]

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

I wish I knew what to do with my life, what to do with my heart…I do nothing all day, boredom settles in, I look at the sky so I get to feel even smaller than I already feel and my mind keeps poisoning itself uselessly.

Sylvia Plath, from The Unabridged Journals (via violentwavesofemotion)

[esmephotography]

[vainmermaid]

small, she said take me and make me feel small the way midnight likes to dry out roads and shrink cars never the irrelevant bead of liquid that escapes a glass and has no destination  “small” he considered for her  I will become  tremendously  colossal how elephants from her  childhood took up more room than she ever could and the country  she always pictured herself living in but was too discouraged to occupy small, what a gentle giant never could be but just might feel

vainmermaid

[vainmermaid]

Long long strokes Are all she can remember. Strokes of delicate memory, where the only canvas she ever cared for was vividly preserved in all his yellow, red, and blue glory. Contour and texture meant very little to her and she never had a favorite color but she felt the presence of all the gods she swore she never believed in Every time the lines of his body contrasted her own and both their bodies were the same effortlessly reckless shade of red. Long long words That he never understood. Words that he felt in her lips. And when panting caused a lapse in the right combination of letters, that he was able to find on the skin of her hips.  Mass production of words always  confirmed his insecurities of intellect. But maybe if books had been as captivating, there wouldn’t have been a spine left untouched. He fought the urge to borrow her words  and inform her that the stars were always a reflection of her, and not the other way around. Long long distance In the understanding of what the other was. Watercolors and oils, she could never show. Pens and paper, he could never say. The image was the same, but neither could feel it in the same way.

vainmermaid

[900luxe]

[lilytakeson]

[humansofnewyork]

“When I’m bored, I call up Radio Pakistan and request a song, then I start dancing. I’ll even dance on a rainy day. It’s my way of expressing how grateful I am. I am the happiest man in Pakistan.” (Passu, Pakistan)

[kattkasten]

[michellekpoems]

Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.

Michelle K., Some. (via 33113)

[mattys1975]

“stay, stay, stay”

[adapto]

Body comparative #19 (1,2)