February 2012
13 posts
“I see you everywhere, in the stars, in the river, to me you’re everything that...”
– Virginia Woolf, Night and Day (via serialstranger)
“Perhaps this is what the stories meant when they called somebody heartsick. Your...”
– Juliet Marillier, Daughter of the Forest (via serialstranger)
“Have you ever left your life was somehow slipping away? And there was nothing...”
– Downton Abbey
“And yet when I am at my sickest, I put a huge amount of effort into fooling...”
– Cat Marnell
“Time was passing like a hand waving from a train I wanted to be on. I hope you...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer (via dolces)
“I think I’m in love with missing you more than I’m in love with you.”
– Sylvia Plath (via tiffanydeenise)
I pick the same scab every day.
At this rate, it will never heal.
I’m not speaking metaphorically—though the metaphor still applies—I have a scratch on my back above my right shoulder blade, and somehow, every day, I manage to absentmindedly scratch it (it itches!) and reopen it.
Today, my blood looked neon.
I pressed a paper towel against it to keep any droplets from getting on my shirt and when I pulled...
“The kickstand is gone, the tether unwound and I am drifting in every sense. I am...”
– (via theretohearit)(via beenthinking)
January 2012
13 posts
it is probably too soon.
no, it is definitely too soon for this - smiling, flirting, laughing with a stranger. too soon for first dates, too soon for getting to know another person, too soon for doing this strange dance all over again; it’s too soon and it makes me tired and it just makes me miss you more than the missing i do all day and all night to begin with.
for the first time, i came home from a date and felt...
“are you some kind of medicine man?
cut the demons out of my head
you...”
– wintersleep, “weighty ghost”
i'm scared.
it’s too easy. and it gets easier every day. i can practically see myself shrinking…
“there is death in the bones
like a pure sound”
– pablo neruda
everything I see
and every thought I have
is seen and thought
through the prism of your memory
feelings don’t bother me. it’s not the emotions, i don’t mind them. i am alright with the aching, the overwhelming sadness, the hurting that becomes almost physical. those i can handle; i’ve been in a state of general melancholy for so long now and without apparent reason that it is almost comforting to return to it after a period of stark and trembling happiness. the...
in you i waver, fall
and rise up burning.
-pablo neruda
And when sleep comes to stretch me out and take me to my own silence there is a great white wind that destroys my sleep and from it fall leaves, they fall like knives upon me, draining me of blood. And each wound has the shape of your mouth.
-pablo neruda
I'm not ok.
I am so stupid.
Here it comes again. How stupid was I to think that I could maybe be happy. That this one wouldn’t leave.
I can’t do this anymore.
December 2011
7 posts
“It’s my own heart that hurts me.”
– Joss Stone, What Were We Thinking (via dolces)
“how is it we have just known of each other
and we talk like old friends
and we...”
– dolorean
“and so i give myself to strangers
like i gave myself to you
the tenderness i...”
– charlotte gainsbourg, “memoir”
indelible shadows: “You are beautiful like... →
gillianzinser:
“You are beautiful like demolition. Just the thought of you draws my knuckles white. I don’t need a god. I have you and your beautiful mouth, your hands holding onto me, the nails leaving unfelt wounds, your hot breath on my neck. The taste of your saliva. The darkness is ours. The nights…
November 2011
14 posts
“There may be more beautiful times, but this one is ours.”
– _Jean-Paul Sartre (via thatkindofwoman)
i want to keep this one. whoever is listening up there, please let this one stay.
“It’s a strange thing, how you can love somebody, how you can be all eaten up...”
– Madeleine L’Engle (via dolces)
“You’re in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won’t tell you that he loves you,...”
– Richard Siken (via babygoth)
hello spine. hello ribs. hello bones.
i become enthralled with the way they feel poking through a thin layer of skin. they’re so close. right there. they’ve been hiding all along under useless layers that just needed to be gotten rid of.
hello bones. please stay. please don’t ever go away again.
“Then comes night, where the distractions of the day aren’t there to drown out...”
– How it feels (via sickly-thin)
this is what my insomnia felt like.
“Why didn’t I learn to treat everything like it was the last time? My greatest...”
– Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close (via dolces)
it had been a year and a half since i saw you.
i thought i was ready. i didn’t have time to be nervous, didn’t have time to agonize, or fantasize, or consider the possibilities. there was just days and hours of rushing and things and business and people and life and then, suddenly, there you were.
i have come a very long way.
but.
when you walked on that stage, and i heard your voice for the first time, and i saw your hands curl...
October 2011
10 posts
these are the things i'll remember always.
dancing on your rooftop. the first cold night of the year, but we went up anyway, bundled in coats and carrying wine bottles and glasses and speakers that only sometimes worked, but there always had to be music. because of this, every memory i have with you has its own soundtrack. you were surprised when i started dancing; i don’t think i ever had danced in front of you before. you spun me...
