nyquil + a bottle of wine = Sally sleeping like a fucking baby tonight.
yeahhh buddy
July 2012
Worst feeling ever? Falling for someone you know you shouldn’t. But can’t help it.
You just keep falling.
Promise me you'll never delete your blog. Even if you get tired of Tumblr eventually, save the blog. Get out all your personal posts and compile them into a book or something. Your writing is so raw, and real, and poetic, and beautiful. I get this feeling of ecstasy when I read what you write. Every word just feels so carefully chosen, so packed with emotion.
:) Thank you, doll. Totally just made my night. I’m never sure if it’s poetic and beautiful, or just dramatic and petty. But, I guess if it’s REALLY what I am feeling, how can it be petty?
I’ve been thinking about compiling my things… you think people would actually care enough to read?
“When I look at my life and its secret colors, I feel like bursting into tears. Like that sky. It’s rain and sun both, noon and midnight. You know, Zagreus, I think of the lips I’ve kissed, and of the wretched child I was, and of the madness of life and the ambition that sometimes carries me away. I’m all those things at once. I’m sure there are times when you wouldn’t even recognize me. Extreme in misery, excessive in happiness—I can’t say it.”
—Albert Camus - A Happy Death (via eckleburgs-eyes)
I don’t know who I’ve become anymore. Loving the way vodka hits the back of my throat and the way a stranger’s tongue feels inside my cheek—how my back feels ice cold against your car outside my apartment. Loving to hate the way my clothes smell the morning after—like hip-hop, sweat, and cigarettes.
This is who I am now, after all of you. And I know myself enough to know that the act will get old.
“Dude, he has man boobs!”
“I’d suck them!”
Just another drunk night with Olga!!!
I seem to get too easily distracted by fake flowers and liquefied candles on my living room floor. There’s so many things that need to be said aloud, but hurt chokes down the words into my mouth. I hope you know CPR cause I’m not sure either of us will make it out alive this time.
“She thought she was independent and strong, but she got one small taste of love and she was hungrier than anyone.”
—Ann Brashares, Girls In Pants: The Third Summer Of The Sisterhood (via intensifyit)
“And what is the word for knowing your bones are made
of midnight?” —Bob Hicok, from “Pank You Very Much” (via growing-orbits)
of midnight?” —Bob Hicok, from “Pank You Very Much” (via growing-orbits)
Play
Head’s spinning.
If you really want me back, you’re gonna have to fight for it. Because I’ve already taught myself about a future that exists without you. I’ve already learned to live forever without you.
Good luck.
We are both in horrid states lately, it seems. :) Big hugs, because I'm equally dreary and sad at 4am.
thanks, love
An honest TMI
You know what really bothers me? My deeply ingrained and skewed outlook on sensuality and sex. After being raised in a strict Christian community and spent my college party years at a dry Christian college, I have finally been able to free my mind and spirit—but not my body. And it pisses me off. It affects every relationship. People either think I’m too prude, too innocent, or too immature for being a virgin. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy I’m a virgin. And the only reason that I am one is that I haven’t loved someone enough to give that part away.
Or is that really the case? Maybe it’s that somewhere deep inside of me I’m still afraid of condemnation. I still act like it is weaved into the stitchings of my pillow, taking in the wide range of sinful acts.
Anyone have any advice on how to break this?
