"I want you. I want your sleepy confused look when you wake up. I want to be the warmth that fills the space in your bed. I want to be the sheets your fingers crave at night; the blanket that wraps around you all night. I want to drink tea with you, share some records we find. I want to talk about everything in the world newspapers. I want to discuss with you, to be stubborn and quick-witted with you. I want to have differences between us. I want your flaws. All of them. I want to go into the deepest corners of your mind and never get bored of you. I want to be surprised by the new all the time. I want to look at you like a movie, a living piece of art; always trying to chase what you crave … and capture you."
Elay Neal Moses (via obdormio)
Not my photo, just my edit.. Please don’t change the source or take credit for it…
Give me one reason not to die.
One valid reason, and I won’t tip myself off the edge of this place.
I’m completely serious - give me one reason not to test the theory that even in death this comes along for the ride.
I can give you so, so many, both silly and important.
Like: You have to come here so we can have a snowball-fight in winter and then go inside and get warm by the fireplace.
And: Because I love you so much I don’t know what I’d do with the emptiness I’d feel if you were gone.
And: Because you have come so very far, so why would you give up now when things will get better (I promise. I’ll make sure of it).
Do you want me to keep going, love?
I think I may have just ruined something really, really important to me. If I have, I might throw myself off the building.
Lovely, if you want to talk I’m here. Send me a text and I’ll log on in a second. <3 Skype on Friday?
- lypophrenia: a feeling of sadness seemingly without a cause
- drapetomania: an overwhelming urge to run away
- escapism: a mental desire to retreat from unpleasant realities through fantasy
- wanderlust: a desire to travel, to understand one’s very existence
- dysania: the state of finding it difficult to get out of bed in the morning
- sanctuary: a small safe place in a troubling world
- metathesiophobia: fear of change
Well, I like change, but…
Truthful Monday, because it’s been so damn long
I hate myself. I mean if I weren’t such a fucking coward, I’d peel my skin open and drag my intestines out about on the floor. I mean I’d open this bag of shite and scrabble about inside just to see if there’s anything that worth living for. I mean I’d slice myself to ribbons, arms first, all the while thinking of the thirty-three phone calls of Wintergirls. I mean I really admire the kids in Saw films because I can’t find the goddamn guts to put an electric knife to my legs and fuck, you know, I think all the fainting spells I’ve been having lately have got to do with my liver, y’know, all those pills I downed when I was thirteen, fourteen, and the world was crushing my chest as it is now. Come on, T, where are you; drown me in the weed you pulled from some other girl’s cunt and cigarette smoke and all the alcohol that I hate, and I think you do too; tell me that we should throw ourselves away behind train stations because nothing matters. I’ll believe you, I can’t shake the thought, I am drowning in the filth that is this place and I can’t fucking breathe any more on my own. I’m sick of telling myself things I no longer believe in, that everything’s going to be fine, that I’m not alone, because hell I want to be alone, I want to go out in a blaze of cutthroat glory, and I won’t tell you how I feel, no; I won’t tell anyone how I really feel as I turn black and bubbling from the searing heat of my own personal hell trapped inside me on the inside. God, I’m so ugly; God, I try so goddamn hard to be beautiful, but I’m just not. Metaphorically, I’ve cut my tongue out and I won’t talk.
‘Cause I mean, yeah. Cut me open so I’ll finally spill.
The only thing you should drag out of yourself is the past that haunts you, because everything else is astonishing and sweet and loving and amazing and all of these other wonderful things that I don’t even have the words for.
You know, Susie and I won’t let you keep not telling anyone how you really feel. That’s not how we do things.
You are beautiful. Really, fucking beautiful. There is nothing ugly about you, not even your worst. It’s dark, but it’s not ugly.
I love you.
The busy bee also needs to land sometimes.
Between school, work, extracurriculars and a social life, I have been incredibly busy lately. I’ve had to take on one too many responsibilities because no one else could or would, and had people around me almost all the time remaining. I am tired, and I think that has become visible by now, but not just how exhausted I actually am.
I am tired. All the time. I go to bed tired, and I wakeup tired. I need some rest, some time to myself, and I am desperately clinging to the knowledge that in two weeks time I will finally be able to power down a notch.
Now, I am going to sleep.
I have felt like this, and it is one of the worst feelings I know.