Chin up! You are more beautiful and worthy than he could obviously see. Phones are overrated, pour a glass of wine, sit outside and watch the stars. There's always hope in the stars, and no one who doesn't even take the time to get to know you, deserves your tears. :)
Thanks for the kindness. But I am really besides myself right now.
Everything was perfect, and beautiful. And now it’s gone. I don’t know where to go from here.
And please don’t tell me so what and it was all just a dream. Because I am pouring everything. Because I am pouring everything. Because I am pouring everything into this. Like I do everytime. Like I do sometimes. Like I hardly ever do but there’s something so different in your eyes.
So don’t tell me all the stories I never wanted to hear. Just speak softly in southern lullabies.
“I’ve never minded it,” he went on. “Being lost, that is. I had always thought one could not truly be lost if one knew one’s own heart. But I fear I may be lost without knowing yours.”—Cassandra Clare (via quotewhore)
“For you I undress down to the sheaths of my nerves.
I remove my jewelry and set it on the nightstand,
I unhook my ribs, spread my lungs flat on a chair.
I dissolve like a remedy in water, in wine.
I spill without staining, and leave without stirring the air.
I do it for love. For love, I disappear.”—“For You” by Kim Addonizio (via growing-orbits)
so im really renalally druynk. but it was nice for a guy to finally spend some time with me and wrap his arms around me cuz i was cold . just saying. but he is kinda old. i will delete this when i am sober enough. but i have to go to work in four housrs. horrayyyy or me.
It’s a strange thing… the way youtubing sad piano songs helps make you a better writer. Just like how a few shock-tops make you more sentimental, and a few cigarettes help make you more relaxed. The bad things, the sad things, the forlorn and forgotten and mistaken and tred-upon, beat-up, spit-out, foul-mouthed things are the things that make us better. Better? Better. More human. More feeling. More open—emotional, loving. Like a single piece of paper that has been torn into shreds, but has been glued back together with elmers and spit to reach something further, to become something greater, to be long enough and fragile enough to hold hands with another and walk through this life together.
But for now all I see is confetti. Confetti and graffiti and cold cement.
“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it, and think how different its course would have been. Pause you who read this, and think for a moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on one memorable day.”—
Charles Dickens, from Great Expectations
Charles Dickens was born 200 years ago today, on the 7th February 2012.