March 2012
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Does anyone ever wonder if we really live underwater like spongebob does? Where everyone talks and breathes and everything seems normal but there’s also water underwater like oceans which is what we percieve as “underwater” but really we’re all just underwater?
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I want to kiss you until your lips are numb, hug you until you can’t breathe, and love you until you die.
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“My hope is that he really is the wizard of Oz and eventually he’s gonna...”
– Joshua Jackson on Peter Bishop
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I just saw an ant and fell in love with it, embarassed by it’s innocence. I was sitting in the shower, letting the hot water pour over me in relaxation, when I looked over and saw just him crawling along the side of the tub, instantly mesmorized. I sat there watching him as he walked along seemingly mindlessly (but even ants must know where they’re going), one leg in front of the...
February 2012
40 posts
i think i’m going to give up on tumblr for a little while
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you know that feeling after you almost have a panic attack? where your insides feel like they’re slowly melting?
i do. i feel it right now. i wish it would’ve just happened, this is the second time in a row i’ve almost had a panic attack but didn’t. it leaves your brain so confused - “am i happy or am i sad?” it doesn’t know what to do so you don’t...
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i wish i could stab myself repeatedly on the soles of my feet
then drag them across a salt bed
so it wouldnt do any real damage,
only hurt
physically
i wish i could stop eating
I just took a muscle relaxer and hydrocodone and my body feels like jell-o
everything is moving in slow motion
before writing this I stared at a star out the window for like five minutes without blinking
I could probably easily pass as a zombie
I had a dream where I was in the hospital after my...
I need to write and write and write and let all my internal thoughts flow messily onto a piece of paper over and over until nothing is legible, until the paper is formed more closely into a representation of the recklessness of my mind.
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What do you go to sleep thinking about?
That small mistake you made the other day? The flaws in yourself? Some mistake you made a year ago?
Do you think of the person you love? All the people you love?
Do you think of how you want to change things? How you don’t want things to change?
Do you pick everything apart, piece by piece, ripping the meat from the bones?
Do you look at the big...
listening to bright eyes and being sad then being happy and then sad again and then happy but sad at the same time
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I wonder what it is scientifically that makes us human beings meet another human being and fall in love with every small aspect of them, even the little ones other people would hate, and have those feelings so continuously they decide they want to spend their entire lives waking up to that same magnificent face every morning because they’re full of that much adoration.
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I’ve been thinking and people are only interested in you if your looks satisfy them. If they are not interested in your looks, they are not interested in you. People look and do not see the writer or poet or artist or intellectual or deep-thinker. They see only your flesh and eyes and nose and mouth and sometimes they see your heart but that is rare
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happy? of course i’m happy i’m always happy i’m alive i can walk and breathe on my own i can feel and i can think. i mean life can be pretty bitter but you can get accustomed to it
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Okay so
I cannot do anything satisfyingly I stay up to three in the morning, spending three hours straight hunched over paper drawing valentine’s “cards” I skip doing school work and taking a shower to spend two hours baking cupcakes and guess what the drawing comes out shit and super cheesy and my cupcakes come out just as shit and the icing nozzle I had shit itself so the icing looks...
i want
to go
bury myself
alive and breathing
six feet under
a mound of
blankets
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i don’t know what to do i don’t know what to do what do i do? i can’t live like them, like all of them, like YOU. i can’t i can’t do it i can’t have a home and i can’t wake up every morning to go to the same boring job to be somebody’s slave every. single. day. for the rest of this miserable life no, that’s not happening i’m not living my...
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I am so confused
as confused as a mind can be
I understand,
yet I do not.
I don’t understand,
yet I do.
I’m in a dilemma,
I’m stuck in limbo
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Someday I'm going to write a book.
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The trees shift, their branches swaying in the steadily blowing wind. Falling leaves fill the air, caught in their own currents. Red, orange, yellow, brown, my vision filled with colours of the autumn. The quiet atmosphere is violated by my humanly presence: my shoes that crunch the freshly fallen leaves into pieces, my breath throwing swimming leaves off their desired course. The path that was...
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The sun is setting in my mind and the stars are rising up from the tips of my toes, felicity is encompassing me, swallowing me whole.
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When we kiss, my mind is sent into a whirlwind, my heart melts upon my ribcage, and little insects fly around and bump against my stomach lining. When we are locked into an embrace, my emotions rise exponentially, the weight of my body drops, and my soul inches closer to yours. “We”. I love the sound of that. “You and me”. Togetherness… So much better than...
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“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.” I just read bits and pieces of Poe’s “The Raven” for some curious reason and related with it so intensely and understood it so...
January 2012
29 posts
progression of a hydrocodone dosage
i’m an idiot
ugly and stupid
i don’t see how anyone can think otherwise
nobody can point out 5 good things about me
but anyone can quickly point out 10 faults
if i didn’t have so much to live for,
i don’t think i could live with myself
…wait
where are these words coming from
i don’t have a clue
are there two people inside of me?
like a yin and a yang?...
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The greatest poem ever known
was written down and left untold
by a weary man who dwells by the sea
and knows not anyone; not you, nor me.
He eats alone, day and night
doesn’t stir, never frights
he lives his life, warm and cold
just waiting for the day he turns too old
and once again swims in the sea,
something ruined by both you and me.
I can’t write. I literally can’t. My writer’s block is so bad I can’t even think of words to think…
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Notes I have written in the past couple minutes:
I want to move mountains with my words.
Routine is the killer of mankind.
I am the darkness in a bright room, I embrace and ruin all beauty.
I have no friends; I am allergic to the unenlightened human mind. Or maybe just the human race. I haven’t figured that one out yet.
Anonymous asked: If love is the moving factor of the world, Where does it begin?
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I can go and go and go and I can do nothing at all but I’m never truly satisfied with this life until my bare feet touch the soil
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