1. 19:12 10th Apr 2014

    Notes: 317569

    Reblogged from keepsitreal23

    Stop setting yourself

    on fire for someone who

    stays to watch you burn.

    — Haiku on Perspective 
      (via gothics)

    …except the second line presumably counts fire as two syllables when it is one, thus making this incorrectly called a haiku.

  2. 08:16 1st Apr 2014

    Notes: 42432

    Reblogged from danb119

    image: Download



OKCupid asks Firefox users to switch to another browser due to its CEO’s opposition to gay marriage (via @SaraLang)





    OKCupid asks Firefox users to switch to another browser due to its CEO’s opposition to gay marriage (via @SaraLang)



  3. image: Download

    Want to vape with me?

    Want to vape with me?

  4. image: Download

    Self portrait. 12.5

    Self portrait. 12.5

  5. 18:56 29th Oct 2013

    Notes: 531807

    Reblogged from keepsitreal23

    Airports see more sincere kisses than wedding halls. The walls of hospitals have heard more prayers than the walls of churches.
    — Unknown   (via cr-eepy)
  6. Months

    I haven’t cried since January, since my break up.

    I’ve slowly rescinded. I couldn’t communicate coherently much past myself. I have felt an immense heaviness and I’ve tried to bury myself in everything and anything.

    But no matter how high I get, or how many men I bring home just for a few hours, I come down, they leave.

    The other day, I received a message online from someone saying they hoped we could be friends, that they wanted to talk to me.

    Last night we skyped and he reminded me so, so much of my first love. His voice was just as gentle, just as alluring. And his smile was contagious and bright.

    We talked for almost two hours, much past my bedtime. We read each other our poems, I was shocked. As soon as we started sharing, I felt the blockage in my heart loosening. I felt comfortable, safe, and vulnerable (a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time.)

    At one point he said to me near the end of our conversation, with a lump in his throat, “I know you’re scared, but someone will come who won’t make you feel that way. You’re one of the special ones.”

    I couldn’t help but feel he wished it was going to be him. And that he regretted that he was leaving for the Air Force and that meant that this sudden connection would have a sad ending. (Would it? Idealism floods my head.)

    At one point he looked down, so honest and blue, saying “don’t make yourself too vulnerable to me, I’m leaving.”

    He said he wanted to feel special, to do something special. I told him that I had an idea in mind and maybe before he leaves we’ll do just that. He smiled softly, in just the way that made my heart warm.

  7. Yes, this

    is what I would call a functioning depression.

  8. Homecoming

    I visited home last night. I’ve lived on my own for two months now and yet coming back feels as if I’ve been gone for much longer than that. My room is now my sisters room, new walls, furniture— I’ve gotten used to it not being mine. And the rest of the house is slowly changing with it. 

    I love New York but it’s lonely and even with stability I feel unstable. It’s overwhelming when you’re suddenly not being cared for and you are your survival. I wish life wasn’t as cold as it was today, it’s a terrifying thing to be young in this world now. People have destroyed a lot of the most needed things. 

    I feel a lot of loneliness in New York, there are people everywhere but it feels like an unending pursuit of connection that clicks and snaps out of place too quickly. 

    I’ve been having sex casually and frequently as a way to pacify myself, distract from the reality that I’m alone and disconnected and nervous. That and books are what is keeping me from losing my mind entirely. Except sex seems to be part of the problem, now, too. So it’s just books.

    I have written very much here at all lately, a lot of that has to do with the fact that sitting still in New York is scary. The larger part of it is that an ex of mine purposely stalked out my blog when we were together and since then it has always felt invaded to me, that my only personal and private place was taken away from me. I don’t think I should care about that anymore, or rather, let the fact affect my writing here, still. 

    He is no longer in my life anymore, I should free this space from that association and fear. 

    Oh, to be so honest, all I want it so feel loved again, that, for some reason, has the miraculous ability to make me feel stable no matter how shaky the rest gets. And without it, the stability that is very real often feels fleeting. 

    New York, I love you but I don’t know if you love me.

  9. I know that something isn’t entirely right when the thoughts of killing myself come back, even though I know I won’t do it.

  10. sometimes I wonder if i’ll ever feel beautiful enough.