Tokyo @waitingonforever42 - Tumblr Blog

scrittura-vita

I was gripping the sand that quickly slipped through my fingers

Gripping the sheets that we slept in but that too slipped through my fingers

After all of this I couldn’t trust these hands to hold myself

Because what if she slipped through my fingers

The version of me that loved you too

scrittura-vita

That love leaves

As if it were never meant to be there

Suddenly but in hindsight slowly

To make space for the love that stays

For the love that says I’m sorry

For the love that says I’m here to stay

And means it.

scrittura-vita

Last year I was stuffing my mouth full of things to tell you about myself.

This year I’m hiding my smile just to make sure you don’t accidentally see parts of me stuck between the cracks in my teeth.

Nothing that’s left is pretty or light.

Everything else is raw, it’s flesh, it’s the kind of thing that you even want to hide from yourself.

lifeafterpsychiatry

Having to tell people directly what you need and want from them is actually an unavoidable part of healthy adult communication, not a sign that your friends or partner don't genuinely care about you. So stop waiting for people to read your mind and learn to speak up.

what-iz-life

Being with someone who wants to learn about your past history, not to punish or hurt you, but to learn how you need to be loved

sheisobvious

𝐻𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑦 𝑁𝑒𝑤 𝑌𝑒𝑎𝑟 ♡︎

scrittura-vita

Falling Water

There was a waterfall in a little town

A town without a place on any map

Before the water was plentiful

and the birds bathed in the small pond nestled in the trees.

One day the water dried and you could see the skeletons that hid in the pond. The scars on the rocks left by years of manipulation were there for anybody to make their own stories about.

The ground beneath the trees would pulse, and every once in a while the pond would welcome a night of sustenance and whimsical activity.

The kind of scene on a postcard or in a really vivid documentary.

But the water never fell again and it was as if the town had stopped. Crying, breathing, existing.

And it lay there dormant, waiting for the waterfall to speak again.