Sunday, August 17, 2014
aseaofquotes:

James Baldwin, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone


Yes, I am stoned so this might not make sense in the morning (let me know if it does, k?)So I think the reason I’m still stuck is because I love you. I have no reason to, and yet you’re still always on my mind. I can recall your mother’s name anecdotally at the drop of a hat. After I realised this I tried to remember the name of the mother of the boy I spent the last 7 months with and it takes me a while to jump through my memories or him, picking things up and dropping them down until I find a time when he mentioned her name. He was good to me, or at least he tried to me, he just wasn’t good to me. There’s no reason other than I love you for the way I fell apart the second (and last) time you broke my heart. Or why I miss him but not the way I miss you. I still look for you in every crowd, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. And that’s kind of okay. It’s not okay that I am still searching for you and remembering that feeling when you looked at me a certain way. Remembering the way I used to stare at your back turned away from me in bed when I woke before you (always). You know, it’s like Han and Leia. Yes, empire strikes back is on right now. That’s not the point…but it’s true. You’re like pop songs to me. I sometimes (more often than not) hate you but I can never get enough. You give me something to fight for, either if I’m fighting with you or with myself because I know I should hate you. And I do. But hate is so close to love, isn’t it? (Is it?) I find myself calling you despicable then defending you in the same sentence. And I shouldn’t even be talking about you anymore. I haven’t spoken to you in a year except to tell you to leave me alone. You should not be on my mind with your name constantly tumbling out of my mouth. But you are. And I think it’s because I love you. And I think you maybe somehow read this, and it feels like you read my thoughts anyway. So, talk to me, I guess.

aseaofquotes:

James Baldwin, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone

Yes, I am stoned so this might not make sense in the morning (let me know if it does, k?)

So I think the reason I’m still stuck is because I love you. I have no reason to, and yet you’re still always on my mind. I can recall your mother’s name anecdotally at the drop of a hat. After I realised this I tried to remember the name of the mother of the boy I spent the last 7 months with and it takes me a while to jump through my memories or him, picking things up and dropping them down until I find a time when he mentioned her name. He was good to me, or at least he tried to me, he just wasn’t good to me.

There’s no reason other than I love you for the way I fell apart the second (and last) time you broke my heart. Or why I miss him but not the way I miss you. I still look for you in every crowd, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again. And that’s kind of okay. It’s not okay that I am still searching for you and remembering that feeling when you looked at me a certain way. Remembering the way I used to stare at your back turned away from me in bed when I woke before you (always).

You know, it’s like Han and Leia. Yes, empire strikes back is on right now. That’s not the point…but it’s true.

You’re like pop songs to me. I sometimes (more often than not) hate you but I can never get enough. You give me something to fight for, either if I’m fighting with you or with myself because I know I should hate you. And I do. But hate is so close to love, isn’t it? (Is it?) I find myself calling you despicable then defending you in the same sentence. And I shouldn’t even be talking about you anymore. I haven’t spoken to you in a year except to tell you to leave me alone. You should not be on my mind with your name constantly tumbling out of my mouth.

But you are. And I think it’s because I love you. And I think you maybe somehow read this, and it feels like you read my thoughts anyway. So, talk to me, I guess.

Friday, August 15, 2014
sometimesagreatnotion:

brightwalldarkroom:

"Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."
—
(illustration by Brianna Ashby)

Brianna sent this over to me this morning, and it’s perfect. Like most of us, she needed to do something with her grief about Robin’s passing, to make something to help capture all the various emotions we’ve all been feeling since Monday. It’s been a tough week for a lot of people. Things like this help. 

sometimesagreatnotion:

brightwalldarkroom:

"Carpe diem. Seize the day, boys. Make your lives extraordinary."

(illustration by Brianna Ashby)

Brianna sent this over to me this morning, and it’s perfect. Like most of us, she needed to do something with her grief about Robin’s passing, to make something to help capture all the various emotions we’ve all been feeling since Monday. It’s been a tough week for a lot of people. Things like this help. 

Monday, August 11, 2014
When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
Smile
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.
How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
3AM: the time to miss people who don’t miss you. Ten Word Story #11 - Ming D. Liu (via mingdliu)
Sunday, August 3, 2014

Anonymous said: thoughts on boys?

vajoochie:

disgusting but irresistible

Saturday, August 2, 2014
jourdepluie91:

I wanna be sedated
Packages by Ben Frost

jourdepluie91:

I wanna be sedated

Packages by Ben Frost

(Source: spikejonzze)

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

chasing my dog aggressively round the table until i finally catch him and tell him i love him and rub his belly

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

petalpunx:

stay away from people who make you feel like you are hard to love.

Monday, July 21, 2014
sneakymonster:

you are the dancing queen, young and sweet only seventeen.

sneakymonster:

you are the dancing queen, young and sweet only seventeen.

(Source: looo-ch)

Saturday, July 19, 2014
threelisabeth:

this is so scary and taylor swift is so brave and powerful

threelisabeth:

this is so scary and taylor swift is so brave and powerful

(Source: tswiftdaily)

Friday, July 11, 2014
8. When you grow up without father a heavy myth engulfs you. There is this gross familiar idea of daddy issues, which is a wariness of your needs. The fear that they are bigger than those of others. Can any man love you enough? Will he be crushed by what you lack? You yourself are constantly checking to see if the hurt is showing. Jutting out like a broken hip bone, revealing itself embarrassingly like spinach between your teeth. You worry that your dadlessness will be used to pinpoint all your sadness. excerpt but go read the whole thing - Sara Bivigou is new & noteworthy at This Recording (via coffeeslut)
Saturday, July 5, 2014
In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.

F. Scott Fitzgerald.

It only gets dark for a few hours at night during summer in Aberdeen and it is the most depressing thing ever.

Friday, July 4, 2014
He reminded me of one great thing, though, which is that when he begins tracing and tickling your bare back absent-mindedly one night, you lying on your stomach next to him, and you mutter that you love when he does that, the only correct response for any human, ever, is to murmur “Oh yeah?” and then continue doing it for endless minutes. He didn’t have to, but he did, because that is what you do when someone reveals their favorite simple thing. You do it. It costs you nothing. HEY, STOP IT: I Am My Own Ingrid Michaelson Song  (via onemoresalutetovanity)
Wednesday, June 25, 2014

If you know someone who’s depressed, please resolve never to ask them why. Depression isn’t a straightforward response to a bad situation; depression just is, like the weather.

Try to understand the blackness, lethargy, hopelessness, and loneliness they’re going through. Be there for them when they come through the other side. It’s hard to be a friend to someone who’s depressed, but it is one of the kindest, noblest, and best things you will ever do.

Stephen Fry (via waxenneat)

Colophon

This tumblelog is powered by Tumblr, and was designed by Bill Israel.