100 steps per sentence walking backwards and you don’t make sense you talk a big game about exhaustion but if you were tired you would be asleep your scars seem worse when you’re baring more skin and you’re always too busy undressing I dare you to ask to notice I’m fully clothed I’ll tell you the what but not the when the how but not the why take my coat off...
Unbelievable. The most toxic friendship I’ve ever had.
like the liquor on the counter I feel cheap used quickly our strength diluted she’s wine drunk and slurring her words somethingabouthim sadlonelysadlonely sadsadsad my glass can reach higher than a half-hearted smile so I raise a toast instead
thought I would find you in boxes a life trapped by cardboard and the paperwork that keeps you here but instead you are scattered through phone lines and state lines and in the hearts of other people wood lives longer than flesh so when your fingers leave the guitar the music will still play that much I know I will one day trap your laugh in the boxes of my memory but it could never be contained...
I wonder why progress looks so much like destruction.
Nothing has ever hurt like this.
wipe away the film settling on your words undress your crooked parts I never asked for anything but something raw tell me about the colour of your mother’s eyes the last time you saw her cry were they grey like springtime or blue like her heart?
journal excerpts, 1.
- You can’t live in another person’s happiness forever. - If it has had the power to affect me this much, I owe it to myself to take meaning from that. Even if it means letting go of a preferred explanation. - I should let my guard down more often. It’s important to let people in sometimes, even at the risk of getting hurt. Why do I insist on making the simple things...
how to run away
1. the cabinet in my kitchen will be empty void of that familiar line of pill bottles (open, swallow, close, repeat) how I wish they knew your hand just a little less how I wish I knew your mind just a little less (open, swallow, close)
A pen and some paper feels like a much needed transition for at least a little while. Clouded, chaotic.
“Thank you for reminding me that there are still good people left in the world.”
I lost the idea of home a long time ago and I’ve been searching for its counterpart ever since - in the written word, a window seat on that plane, and maybe, just maybe, in someone else’s name. These cracks in the foundation follow me around like a ghost and I’m left with nothing but the echo of your mistakes - a fragile frame without a blueprint. It’s time to build...
2013: take my own advice.
I’m one step behind the clock, rushing to cross things off a continuing list, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to write all my words down before midnight. So maybe I’ll just leave it at this: the realization that the past twelve months have been monumental, the most important yet. I’ve tasted bitterness and I’ve traded it in for something sweeter.
You told me you were entwined with foreign limbs and I felt your heaviness clutched to my own ribcage, a tide that refuses to stop kissing both our shores. Thought about the last time I saw you and how I couldn’t recognize your face anymore. Burned out in that same parking lot, the tires always scarring our pavement. You were smoking a cigarette, waiting for the lips of another boy to take...
Your silver tongue it masks your hungry hate While your haggard heart whispers through its cracking cage “You still can change, you have to know you still can change” I know, I know, for now I want to be this way This was a choice, this was never a mistake
vrch: this goes out to the secret alcoholics sitting in their bed alone eating breakfast in the afternoon. to the people who deny plans they should take to the boy who didn’t kiss me when he should have for the nights you spend alone for the projects that will never get finished, for the mystery in the fog for the redemption bells ringing inside our cupped and empty hands for the...
I don’t have much time for the silence between your words anymore. Instead I’m rushing to put things back together, filling every blank space of myself with reusable letters - bleeding ink turned poison. I’ve been waiting in this quiet for too long, deafened by a carelessness carefully masked in good intentions. Purposely so. You are the second hand of the clock moving...
I never thought I’d be here - drinking coffee with him at two thirty in the morning, struck by some sort of tangible comfort in unnatural conversation. I don’t know how to trust him or his words, anyone’s for that matter, but I can feel progress. Vague but promising progress. The way it felt to tell her that I missed her, to hear it back, and to have both of us mean it. Sometimes...
I once wrote a list of every good thing and kept it in between the pages of a child’s poetry - my own, hid it in the back of that closet, hoping I could keep everything safe and untouched, if only for a little while longer. No one told me my list would get shorter, or that I’d find it years later and be forced to cross things out, see them for what they are, see them not just touched...
We can fix ourselves up, kids, and we can learn how to love
Sometimes the hardest and most important thing to do is forgive the people who never apologized.
I’ve been drawing a map of all the places I need to be, the feelings I need to run away from, but I keep finding myself in the middle of it all - pulled equally by the fear of letting go and the uncertainty of moving on. It’s funny how sometimes nothing and everything can work out. How you can cry in your happiness then smile in your sadness. It’s fleeting, all of it. I was...
“I am leaving, I am leaving” - but the fighter still remains.
coffeebreath: do not let someone into your heart unless they show you that they really want to be there, and do not let anyone disrespect you or your values—you are worth so much more than the feet that would tread on you. and finally, remember this: it is better to be alone and stable than trapped with baggage that wasn’t yours to begin with.
I have given so much of myself to other people that I think it’s time to take it all back, to be me for me again.
Both my head and heart have been heavy with goodbyes lately, tied down by an anchor of regret, and all I want to do is find a way to talk about it. I realize my need to let go, but in a lot of ways, it just feels like I’m giving up. I can’t beat time and I certainly can’t go back.
This is about how I started digging lines into my skin when I turned eleven. When the world felt cold and unforgiving. It’s about how being twelve and thirteen meant teaching myself a dangerous definition of the word strength, one I would rather forget. These are the parts of my life still crawling over the line between the present and the past, not knowing where to rest. About how fucking...
These months have been filled with late night anxiety, a renewed cycle of old habits, and a constant pit of the stomach feeling that I will never be good enough. I’m tired of being honest but not honest enough. It’s like I’m halfway there, I’m saying what I want to say, what I need to say, but I’m the only one able to decode this language. I don’t want to dance...
adelinegray: “Cling on to the beautiful, forget the rest.”
Building a home in the crevices of unfamiliar beginnings.
creavi: i scrubbed my hands clean of yesterday’s stain. my hands have never felt so limber til today.
I’m sorry for everything about me that hurts you.
I’m younger than I used to be and I’m still trying to figure out how to grow up without letting go. How to say hello and goodbye in the same sentence. To you and to everyone that I know, including every single part of myself. I’m lighting a match under my own skin and praying that I don’t burn out. If only to stay lit long enough to move on and light the next one.
aleatoricism: Not sure how I ended up in the same place I was six months ago.
And so he did the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life: he picked up his hat and walked away.
Same words, different person.
Listening to Until When We Are Ghosts on repeat and disappearing forever.
coffee breath →
alyssasayshello: start learning how to brush it off your shoulders and say “fuck it” and really mean it. start learning how to hold your chin up, shoulders straight—start learning how to say “no,” and “i don’t have to take this.” start learning to let go of the past, no regrets—move fucking forward. start learning to take enough pride in yourself that no one can push you around - no one,...
becoming tangible →
creavi: there’s a calming reassurance from knowing that the sun will continue to greet me through my window the next morning—no matter what i did or didn’t finish the night before. i think we could all learn a little something from the sun, from the way it continues to give me my six thousandth, six hundredth, seventy-third chance to stop leaving the kitchen faucet from going drip drip drip...
windmillingbill: I’m doing this. This is what I want, and I won’t allow anything to stop me. I’m looking forward.
I spent all day trying to find the perfect words but couldn’t, instead settling on a jumbled paragraph filled with repetitions of “I’m sorry” and “I love you”. She told me that I always know the right things to say, but I can’t help believing that everything I say is never enough. Beyond words.
My lips trap the harshest syllables and the ugliest letters cling to my fingers, but maybe it’s time to open up and let go. I let a few walls down last week and I need this to be a reminder of how important it is to do sometimes. I learned that a heart-to-heart isn’t a conversation between two people but about letting someone listen to a conversation with yourself. Acceptance, not...
poorlywrittenhistory: recently: handfuls of ugly words swarming around in my head with no place to put them
The cold comfort of the in-between.