veronieecar:

aw :3

(Source: bennetwilcox)

  • 2 years ago
  • 116753
chafethee:

You.

chafethee:

You.

(Source: n0truth)

  • 2 years ago
  • 123
  • 2 years ago
  • 52489

"Also, sometimes, the things that fall from us -
we must pick up and piece together
because things that have fallen from us
have been beautiful or crucial
and piecing together is part of the journey
of becoming whole."

  • 2 years ago

That is the problem that comes with dating an independent girl, that sooner or later you yourself are left independent; far more than you ever have been in your life. 

  • 3 years ago
  • 1
  • 3 years ago

"

Stop worrying about whether you’re fat. You’re not fat. Or rather, you’re sometimes a little bit fat, but who gives a shit? There is nothing more boring and fruitless than a woman lamenting the fact that her stomach is round. Feed yourself. Literally. The sort of people worthy of your love will love you more for this, sweet pea.

In the middle of the night in the middle of your twenties when your best woman friend crawls naked into your bed, straddles you, and says, You should run away from me before I devour you, believe her.

You are not a terrible person for wanting to break up with someone you love. You don’t need a reason to leave. Wanting to leave is enough. Leaving doesn’t mean you’re incapable of real love or that you’ll never love anyone else again. It doesn’t mean you’re morally bankrupt or psychologically demented or a nymphomaniac. It means you wish to change the terms of one particular relationship. That’s all. Be brave enough to break your own heart.

When that really sweet but fucked up gay couple invites you over to their cool apartment to do ecstasy with them, say no.

There are some things you can’t understand yet. Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding. It’s good you’ve worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again. And again. You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years. Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness.

One evening you will be rolling around on the wooden floor of your apartment with a man who will tell you he doesn’t have a condom. You will smile in this spunky way that you think is hot and tell him to fuck you anyway. This will be a mistake for which you alone will pay.

Don’t lament so much about how your career is going to turn out. You don’t have a career. You have a life. Do the work. Keep the faith. Be true blue. You are a writer because you write. Keep writing and quit your bitching. Your book has a birthday. You don’t know what it is yet.

You cannot convince people to love you. This is an absolute rule. No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it. Real love moves freely in both directions. Don’t waste your time on anything else.

Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you’ll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you’ll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small, quiet room.

One hot afternoon during the era in which you’ve gotten yourself ridiculously tangled up with heroin you will be riding the bus and thinking what a worthless piece of crap you are when a little girl will get on the bus holding the strings of two purple balloons. She’ll offer you one of the balloons, but you won’t take it because you believe you no longer have a right to such tiny beautiful things. You’re wrong. You do.

Your assumptions about the lives of others are in direct relation to your naïve pomposity. Many people you believe to be rich are not rich. Many people you think have it easy worked hard for what they got. Many people who seem to be gliding right along have suffered and are suffering. Many people who appear to you to be old and stupidly saddled down with kids and cars and houses were once every bit as hip and pompous as you.

When you meet a man in the doorway of a Mexican restaurant who later kisses you while explaining that this kiss doesn’t “mean anything” because, much as he likes you, he is not interested in having a relationship with you or anyone right now, just laugh and kiss him back. Your daughter will have his sense of humor. Your son will have his eyes.

The useless days will add up to something. The shitty waitressing jobs. The hours writing in your journal. The long meandering walks. The hours reading poetry and story collections and novels and dead people’s diaries and wondering about sex and God and whether you should shave under your arms or not. These things are your becoming.

One Christmas at the very beginning of your twenties when your mother gives you a warm coat that she saved for months to buy, don’t look at her skeptically after she tells you she thought the coat was perfect for you. Don’t hold it up and say it’s longer than you like your coats to be and too puffy and possibly even too warm. Your mother will be dead by spring. That coat will be the last gift she gave you. You will regret the small thing you didn’t say for the rest of your life.

Say thank you.

"

  • 3 years ago
  • 3 years ago
  • 211

Since She Left: When I am the only one left, I think of what we have done, and of...

sincesheleft:

When I am the only one left, I think of what we have done, and of where you might be now. Long arms and nimble fingers; a feathered tattoo peeking from your blue sleeve (it wasn’t as bad as it sounds). I could never quite make out what it was, and I will never quite know you.

Your brown hair,…

  • 3 years ago
  • 175

Apt.

The two of you took a train to get to a train so that she could get to a bus which would later in the evening leave the city. That bus, the vile and filthy Chinatown variety would carry her south, and into the mountains where she lives. You will stay behind because this is where you live.

New York City is no respecter of persons. It does not care that she’s spent 3 days here with you, and in those days you held hands and saw the island from the water, feeling both so large and so small. Oh, and in the nights you were tangled up together in your apartment, alternating big spoons, smiling a lot and, kissing like the couple that you’re not, but you want to be. This city doesn’t care that you got attached. New York City doesn’t care about your attachment because the immediacy is that she needs to get on that A Train to take her to where she needs to go and that train is not waiting.

Her hand is gripped around your arm, she doesn’t say it but you know the meaning; don’t go. The exchange that follows is summed up in that you will travel to see her soon. She wants to come back. She’s left a tooth brush in your apartment. The things you didn’t say are not important-there will be time later to say them. The only thing that matters is the way she felt in your arms, when you knew she was asleep, the smell of her hair which you hope never leaves your pillow and that you wrote this from a train that is both taking you away from her in the physical breadth of distance, versus time, which after enough passing will bring you back to her.

  • 3 years ago
  • 1
Last. Moved.

Last. Moved.

  • 3 years ago
  • 2708
  • 3 years ago
  • 913

Trapeze swinger

Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range,
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention
But

Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you’re still pretty
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like ‘We’ll meet again’
And ‘Fuck the man’
And ‘Tell my mother not to worry’
And angels with their gray
Handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry
And

Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
We’d forgotten one another
And when the morning came
I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you’re lit up by the city
So

Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower call
Then pass us by
But much too high
To see the empty road at happy hour
Leave and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like ‘Lost and Found’ and ‘Don’t Look Down’
And ‘Someone Save Temptation’
And

Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burned babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Aside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior
But

Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above there running
In circles round the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter’s
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint
‘Who the hell can see forever?’
And

Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turn from me
And said ‘The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last’
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger
So

Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if i make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of G-d and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissin on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers

-deathoradio.tumblr.com

SO BEAUTIFUL.

(Source: deathoradio)

  • 3 years ago
most.

most.

  • 3 years ago
  • 10599
  • 3 years ago
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