I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.– Samuel Beckett; “Waiting for Godot” (via thegirlwiththelittlecurl)
they gave her a mirror so she could talk to a face
“let’s see if i can write about something other than my heart.”
i’m a one trick pony and when i fall down, i don’t get up i wish i could understand what a day is like for someone normal snails and quails
I wish I wrote the way I thought Obsessively Incessantly With maddening...– Benedict Smith / “I Wish I Wrote The Way I Thought” (via fagnficent)
daddy's girl is crying
i’ve cried at the dmv before in frustration and helplessness, but this was different. the excitement, the anticipation of being behind the wheel again acted as a shield to deflect the oncoming realization of what was really happening. i’ve never hated anyone as much as i did the woman behind the counter. not because of paperwork or lack of cooperation, because of what she made me...
holding on to the childish notions that fathers never die and friendships are tangible but he will and they aren’t
maybe i like to sweat because it puts me in touch with an animalistic side of me that believes sweat still comes as a direct result of some battle for survival. don’t you know we just exist now? my family and friends love me, but i’m so tired that i can’t appreciate everything they’ve done and everything they’ve yet to do. body lethargic, mind restless. exhaustion and...
why am i sad
this is the best fucking day
i was half-asleep when i realized i missed it missed it so bad my breath caught in my chest and my heart skipped ten beats even though it was too hot to move in the summer and so damp and bone-cold you could never warm up in the winter even though i found out i was illiterate depending on my location even though work was heavy and some days i was emotionally unable to find myself food even...
i can’t wait for my dad to give me a hug and tell me i’m too skinny
god, i mean it
kind of glad i remembered this existed. i can’t even sleep to music right now.
my cave gets bright for an hour in the morning so i can’t sleep in. morning is lonely, morning is lovely. my joints ache, and i feel older than anyone my age has a right to. you’re afraid of the ocean, but i’m afraid of you. that deep, vast, creature-filled chasm ain’t got shit on even the brightest corner of your mind. i have nightmares about working forever, and i...
i drink too much coffee and loud noises make me...
i can never seem to drink enough or smoke enough or fuck enough or sleep enough or work enough or walk enough or sing enough or cry enough or see you enough or not see you enough or dream enough or write enough or eat enough or starve enough or shake enough or whine enough or bump my head enough or make enough mistakes to not wake up with your face swimming in my eyes
R: Oh, just a few minutes. Uh, now you mentioned empathy for others. Would you say that that is what motivates you to make the music that you make? C: No, not really. It’s more a need for sympathy. I want people to feel sorry for me. I like the feel of the burn of the audience’s eyes on me when I’m whispering all my darkest secrets into the microphone. When I was a kid, I used to carry this...
you can't fold a heart
your closet is sparse but you’ve got a dresser full of hearts broken, bruised, cracked and disappointed you wake up in the morning empty chest, tired eyes your heavy head thumbs through them and, without your consent, decides which one you’ll wear today maybe the first, blue and cold now an entire summer rattling at the bottom of a rusted chamber like an expired pill in an...
my self-esteem took the brunt of the blow leaving the rest of me remarkably unscathed here’s to martinis and forgetting that i ever had the guts to try
How to Rebuild a Life
For my friends. Start small. Find a job. Don’t say it’s beneath you, don’t say you won’t fit in. You might find something you love. You might meet people who remind you what you’re capable of. A kitchen, a shoe store. You can’t imagine the day-in day-out fulfillment of knowing that someone appreciates you for some small miracle, be it a sale or a pizza. Avoid hangovers, but embrace them when...
your friends are children hearts once removed from the ache you know too well selfishly, you’ve convinced yourself they don’t can’t understand your music swims in your ears and your words never sound so pretty as they do in your head you can’t rhyme but you never wanted to all you wanted was a poem something written on your heart worn on your sleeve shouted from the...
you were just my type
we never fucked and with that omission managed to convince everyone that a heart never held can’t be dropped but i snuck it into your pocket into the hollow of your neck the silk of your hair you never noticed it curled around your waist and tangled in your fingers i think it used to be mine but years of neglect left it dormant an unused muscle in a sleeping chest you woke it up, coaxed it...
she listens and in that small favor gives you tenfold what you could ever give her your dizzy words and bullshit theories spoken from a tongue soaked in alcohol she takes them into her lovely mind turns them over and hands them back to you she won’t nod her head as the others do she won’t allow your skewed sense of what is or what should be to elicit the words you ache to hear with a...
You’re not really an adult at all. You’re just a tall child holding a beer,...– Dylan Moran (via holymum)
When something bothered me, I didn’t talk with anyone about it. I thought it...– Haruki Murakami, Sputnik Sweetheart (via onlytheilluminatisurvive)
and in that goddamn moment the only thing i wished was that i still had your number so i could ask you if you liked cruel intentions