Reorganizing my room and I’m sweating so bad wtf is this weather? Thank goddess I’m going to Tybee on Thursday.
January 16th 2013
Dear “you,” that’s what I’ve been referring to you in the poems I write at 3 in the morning. I still can’t say your name. I hope you know that I stopped breathing when you told me you didn’t love me anymore. I hope you know that your words could burn holes through my skin. You could make stars fall from the sky. You could kill me. You could end the world with the way you speak. I hope you come back soon. I’m starting to get lightheaded. I miss you I miss you. I’m so sorry.
February 3rd 2013
my letter must’ve gotten lost in the mail and that’s why you haven’t responded. That’s what I keep telling myself but I know it’s not true. I know you read it. I’ve seen it a million times in my head. You just got home from school and you’re sitting on your bed listening to The Strokes, ignoring the fact that they were my favorite band, and your mother comes upstairs and hands you my letter and you leave it on your bedside table, the one that you hide your cigarettes in, and you glance over at it a few times before you finally decide to read it. and your eyes skim over at it and your head starts to hurt a little, but not enough to make a difference, not enough to make you love me again. I wish you would write back. I’m tired of writing letters to a ghost.
April 19th 2013
You called me last night. Oh god. Your voice. I missed your voice. You were slurring your words when you asked how I’ve been and I tried to keep my hands from shaking. I swear to god when you told me you missed me I felt my heart slam into my ribs. I almost passed out. I think I’m going crazy. I still love you. Every part of me still loves you. Your name is always stuck in my throat and I keep your smile under my fingertips and I can’t forget you. I tried to swallow pills to get you out but I just got dizzy. I tried to wash my hands with vodka but it didn’t work.
September 4th 2013
I kissed a boy last night. He tasted like sugar and he grabbed my hips and I liked it a lot. I don’t miss you anymore.
September 5th 2013
I still miss you like crazy.
October 17th 2013
My mom told me to stop writing to you. She says I’ll never move on if I’ve always got you on the tip of my tongue and I’m spending too much on stamps. I don’t want to taste you anymore so this is my last letter.
October 17th 2013
November 9th 2013
I was over you until I held hands with the boy who lives down the street and tasted glass in my mouth. Jesus fuck you’re in my veins and bleeding out can’t fix me. I’ve tried.
January 16th 2014
I can say your name now.
Perhaps we’ll find each other later,
when we aren’t two kids
scrambling to find a home.
Maybe we’ll intersect again,
with new collections
of memories and dreams
tied to our ankles,
searching for someone
to lighten to burden.
And maybe, just maybe,
next time the
I-love-yous will be real,
instead of muttered hopes
that left our lips bloodstained.
the scene in which I love you more than yesterday (and you left me tonight)
there is nothing worse than polaroiding every thing that will remind me of you. how empty green fields open my eyes to fantasies that used to be plans, my thoughts screeching in the background, don’t put your arm around me on your front porch, your living room couch
somewhere there is a script for every past love, psychiatrist’s legal pads filled with paragraphs of repeated sentences and ticks (where I just can’t stop touching my fingertips) because I’d rather be touching you
it takes more than a hopeless romantic to save someone who isn’t stable, whose emotions can make the worst of them, they need someone who can hold them down and scream that they’re worth more than a golden ticket, they’re prettier than the brightest tulips, he can’t hurt you anymore, but you weren’t that, if I was in pain you closed your eyes
"You called me at three in the morning and before I could speak you said, “listen, I’m sad and you’re sad and I wanna be with you and I think maybe we can make each other happy.” And I told you that it doesn’t work like that, because I am the ocean and you’re an anchor, you’ll drown in me and I think it’d really fucking hurt to have you plunge through my skin and crash into my bones. When you find me in the bathroom dripping in blood, you’re going to hate yourself for not being able to fix me and then you’re going to hate me for making you feel like that. And when you take too many pills because you couldn’t fall asleep and everything hurt, I’m going to find myself screaming and crying and shaking until you finally wake up and I’ll be mad at you for scaring me like that and mad at myself for falling apart again. I love you, but I can’t be with you, because I’m on fire and I think you are too and we’ll just create something too big for either of us to put out." — I love you but I can’t be with you (via extrasad)
" — Things to know before promising you’ll stay - CS (via chaeronea)
- I don’t like folding laundry or talking about my emotions. I’m likely to leave both scattered all over.
- I’m not much for cooking but there will always be coffee.
- I’ll wear anything of yours with sleeves. I love when they’re long enough to wrap around my hands.
- Sometimes the world is too harsh, too big. It’s hard to leave the house on days like those.
- When I was sick as a kid my mom would run a bath for me and wash my hair. It was always so soothing. Maybe you could do that every once in a while.
- I find it difficult to finish most things. My room is home to countless journals of incomplete thoughts.
- I won’t love you any less in December. I think my heart just wasn’t meant for the cold.
- I never truly know why I’m crying so don’t bother to ask, simply be there.
- There’s whiskey in the medicine cabinet.
- If things get terribly bad, please don’t give up. Get me in the car and drive to the sea. The waves beneath my toes will wake me up and I’ll be yours again.
"She survived whatever happened,
she became." —
"I think I’ve always been half out of my shell and half in. Sometimes I can be extremely wild and sometimes I can be extremely shy. It just depends on the day." — Emile Hirsch (via victorielle)
An open letter to the anonymous douchebag coward who is relentlessly verbally accosting my loved ones…
Firstly, I don’t have anonymous questions enabled for a reason; I don’t fuck with trolls. The only reason I’m writing this is to squash what little power and confidence you think you’ve gained with your verbal attacks. If you wish to have any further communication with me, pick yourself up by your big-kid panties and ASK ME. Your greyface tells me nothing but that YOU are the child.
Secondly, my girlfriend and my best friend won’t feed into your attacks. My girlfriend is too self-assured to inflate your ego with a response, and my best friend lives several hours away and isn’t really involved with my everyday life; they won’t give you what you want, so you might as well give up. No one will give you attention regarding your messages besides me in this one rebuttal, and that’s simply because I feel it is time for me to say a few things publicly, but mainly to set you straight in case you are a vengeful ex-partner/lover.
I am aware that B is bigger than me. Neither of us are blind, and we are both VERY self-aware. Your attempts to boost your own inadequate self-esteem by stating the obvious are in vain. Here are some facts I’d like you to note;
- In my recent sobriety I’ve realized that I’ve never really loved somebody with all of myself. Take a second to swallow that, especially if you are a cocky, conceited past lover. I always loved my addiction the most, putting it before my partners, family members, social life, even my own career at times. In all of our lives, when relationships end and new ones start, we take what we learned from those failed attempts at success and invest them into a new one. We try to not make the same mistakes again - at least we should. Otherwise we will keep being thrown into the same hardships. Life has a way of making us go through situations until we learn the lessons we’re meant to learn. Unless we actually put effort in to trying things a different way, we will always be doomed to the same results. My relationship with B has only really been in existence for 26ish days - not even a full month. I can’t predict the future, but I CAN say that I’ve never loved somebody with SO MUCH of myself, casting away all fears and negativity and truly plunging headfirst with everything I have. And I’m so happy. So completed. So attracted. SO in love. I’m sorry if you feel like your past with me was so fruitless that this is the only way you can make yourself feel better. I’m sick, but am learning to live in spite of my disease every day. B is at my side with 100% support and then some, and I couldn’t ask for a more loving and supportive partner at my side. The King Of Promiscuity stepped down from his thrown years ago, and if you’re so out of the loop that you don’t know that, then you really shouldn’t even be making these feeble attempts at contact.
- I am an eating disorder survivor. I’ve had warped views on my own body image since I can remember. They were twisted even further when wrapped in my ever-blooming addictions, but I am finally at such peace with them. In the past year or so I have become vehemently body-positive, but have never had a partner who could be the same with themselves. B has the most perfect outlook on life, her body, the way she exists in this world through her skin, and the FACT that just because she isn’t what our fucked up American mainstream beauty standard says she should be, it doesn’t mean she isn’t lethally gorgeous. The only thing you’re proving with your petty comments is that you can’t handle your own skin. And I don’t want to attack you for that, because I was in that position for a VERY long time. I feel sad for you. I pity you, honestly, because you aren’t approaching it in a way that’s even the least constructive. You’re being an insolent, immature cunt. And its maddening that you’re probably too far gone.
- I am a quiet and reserved fellow, especially these days of recent sobriety. I am learning to stand up for myself more, but for most of my life I’ve lived by the saying, 'it is better to be silent and thought a fool, than to open your mouth and remove all doubt'. B is the opposite.
She keeps her opinions and humor on the tip of her tongue in a constant stream of her fearless honesty. I adore this about her every single day.
She has an amazing singing voice that harmonizes with my own in a way I have never experienced with ANYONE. Her voice gives me chills like Adele or Florence. It affects my soul.
We love a lot of the same crucial musicians and bands, music that I have loved for the majority of my life but haven’t been able to share in that love with most of my past partners; in my more recent past I’ve dated judgmental musical-snobs who seemingly took pleasure offhandedly tearing down my tastes with superficial and unreasonable logic for such a subjective experience as music. She builds me up.
She’s a writer and a poet. On one of our first nights together we traded poetry journals and were both equally amazed and intimidated by the other’s writing. I’ve never had a partner I could both write with AND about.
She’s witty, sarcastic and full of joy.
She laughs loudly and without reserve.
She gropes me in public.
She is never boring.
She is never dishonest. I never have to guess or attempt to read her mind, and its developed into having a deep and sincere trust in her. I believe her so consistently that it angers you. That also saddens me because it leads me to believe that you are so incapable of honesty that you truly believe it’s impossible to have such complete trust in someone.
Fear not. It is possible, but it starts on the inside.
- B has the most luscious body I’ve ever had the honor of touching with my own. She’s provocative in her curves and I find myself loving a new part of her every time we collide. Her long, strong, thick legs wrap around me and we fit like legos being gently pressed into place. She’s physically just as strong as I am (if not stronger), but in different ways, which just adds to how we compliment each other. Her lips are like roses in bloom, sweet and juicy and gasping for sunlight. Her hands are beautiful, how they lightly touch me at the times I am least expecting it, but am needing it the most. I love how she can envelope me one minute, completely covering and smothering me in my entirety; and the next we can both flip and I can dominate her fragile femininity with the utmost respect and desire for her experience of a peak of ecstasy.
I am not interested in your opinion on either of our bodies, for you are not in our bed in the grey hours of the morning.
You aren’t on our pillows, slipping between our whispers and sighs of cigarette smoke.
You aren’t on our fingertips, sliding into each other and exploring our most private centers.
You aren’t involved at all, and I am so thankful for that.
I only need her at my side.
I only want her in my company.
I only crave her tastes and sounds.
I want to be so selfish with her, for I cherish every single thing about her.
You are not the sun. She is.
I am in love with a boy who makes bats ping pong around in my stomach. He makes my heart skip beats when he speaks to me, when he kisses my cheeks. I blurt out how I feel for him constantly, when we’re singing in the car or holding hands in grocery stores. I don’t know how we found each other when we did, I don’t know why I reached out to him when I did. I’m more secure in the relationship I have with him than many relationships I have in my life or have had. He grounds me more than I’ll ever be able to accept or understand, I’ll never know how he just gets me so easily.
We’ve never had any dances of awkwardness, the first time our eyes locked I knew I was falling. How can someone be so handsome and beautiful at the same time? My mind feels like it may burst at any moment from all of the conflicts in my life and I just look at him and I’m okay. I stare at his smile and how his cheeks ripple when he’s happy. How is it so normal to experience things like this when every one around you doubts your every move? Do other people feel this way about others so easily, so quickly? I’ve never doubted my feelings for him for a second, and for the first time I’m positive that I never will.
I’ll never run from him, I’ll run into him, run for him, run with him. I can’t see myself straying from something that is this healthy, that is so beneficial to my life and the progress I am trying to make. I can look at him and know that he feels the same way I do and maybe that’s the scariest part of it all? Maybe I’m not even scared, maybe I’m just letting myself free fall because I know he’s underneath me, maybe I’m just ready to stop playing red rover with every lover I get close to… Maybe he’s just been the one all along.
I don’t need you to take care of me,
but when you said that you were going to
be there, you should have probably
showed up. I was not expecting to
fall in love with you, but I did, and this
should be something that I shouldn’t have to
go through alone. And no matter what turn
I take, or what words come out of my mouth,
you should still be there for me.
Because even if things become
too hard to handle, you should always
be there. Just like you promised.
Today I am moving out of my parents house and it feels really good and scary. I’m so thankful for the family I’ve built in Athens and these next few years are going to be a god damn blasty blast shit show.
"People think they know you. They think they know how you’re handling a situation. But the truth is no one knows. No one knows what happens after you leave them, when you’re lying in bed or sitting over your breakfast alone and all you want to do is cry or scream. They don’t know what’s going on inside your head—the mind-numbing cocktail of anger and sadness and guilt. This isn’t their fault. They just don’t know. And so they pretend and they say you’re doing great when you’re really not. And this makes everyone feel better. Everybody but you." — William H. Woodwell Jr. (via creatingaquietmind)