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Lets Be Honest

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Old Us’s

dearoldlove:

Sometimes, I just lie in bed and cry so hard, silently, because I miss you. And I don’t even love you anymore. I just miss the old me, loving the old you.

“ A new experience can be extremely pleasurable, or extremely irritating, or somewhere in between, and you never know until you try it out. ”

—    A Series of Unfortunate Events: The Miserable Mill, Lemony Snicket (via check-your-pockets-chimney-child)

“ All I ever really want to know is how other people are making it through life—where do they put their body, hour by hour, and how do they cope inside of it. ”

—    Miranda July (via showslow)

(Source: larmoyante, via gratisangst)

“ Our hearts beat so loud the neighbours think we’re fucking when I’m just trying to find the nerve to touch your face. ”

—    Andrea Gibson, “Pansies” (via c-ovet)

(Source: jadewootton, via gratisangst)

“ My knees are bleeding again, and I don’t remember hitting the floor this time. You had a voice like red wine and I wanted you to stain every inch of my skin until my bones were too drunk to break. It turns out bones don’t work like that. They break anyway. I’m learning how the echoes of silence can pound against your head so loudly, you’ll mistake them for voices. And I am carving each one into walls that aren’t mine and slamming the doors to cabs and sobbing over coffee that tastes too bitter. Lately, every part of New York has been looking at me with sad eyes, as if to say ‘Baby, did you see the way the buildings fell here? Did you see the way they were born again? Don’t you dare cry over a boy who kissed you so hard you fell and scraped your knees. You are not an abandoned city. You are a home waiting to be rebuilt.’ This poem is for all the time I spent hating you. This poem is for all the ways I didn’t kiss you and all the ways I did. This poem is for all the love letters that I never gave you. This poem is for the parts of me I let bleed out. Here. I am giving it to you like a peace offering for the days I blamed you for the war in my head. And I know my hands might be shaking, but they aren’t yours to worry about anymore. I will learn the art of getting better. But I need you take this from me first. ”

—    Y.Z (via rustyvoices)

(via backshelfpoet)

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself.

Sometimes you keep falling; you don’t catch anything.

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don’t.

Sometimes they catch you.

—    From Necklace of Kisses by Francesca Lia Block (via katiekashmir)

“ The way I saw you was pieces refracting the light, shifting into an infinite universe of flowers and rainbows and insects and planets, magical dividing cells, pictures no one else knew. ”

—    Francesca Lia Block, from Wasteland (via violentwavesofemotion)

“ She’s mad, but she’s magic. There’s no lie in her fire. ”

—    Charles Bukowski, An Almost Made Up Poem  (via schlafwandel)

(Source: whyallcaps, via gratisangst)

“ I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again. ”

—    Anaïs Nin (via thelostdeer)

(via gratisangst)

“ 1. You’re going to have to treat every man like an explosive until he proves to you that he’s burnt out. Often, the wolves are disguised as woodcutters.
2. Being a lady ain’t easy, honey, but somebody’s gotta do it.
3. When he asks to see your body, show him your fists.
4. Do not try to be pretty. You weren’t meant to be pretty; you were meant to burn down the earth and graffiti the sky. Don’t let anyone ever simplify you to just “pretty.”
5. If they ask you to give them a smile, spit on their shoes.
6. Never be afraid to take up space – you’ve earned it. You deserve it.
7. When a boy claims to be a gentleman and keeps asking for your hand, tell him you’ll give him a finger. Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about.
8. ‘No’ is your friend. Practice saying it in the mirror so it will slip out like venom when he puts his hands on you.
9. Your worth is measured only by how happy you are. Nothing more, nothing less.
10. You are a fucking firework. I’m so proud of you. ”

—    10 Things I Wish My Mother Had Taught Me | d.a.s (via backshelfpoet)