Kisha.
Bookworm.
April 18th, Aries.
socially awkward.
And this is NOT a happy blog.
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When he says
He doesn’t love you anymore,
Roll your shoulders back
And look him in the eye
Even when it feels like your ribs
Are breaking inward, like spider legs.
When he digs up old aches
That he swore he forgave you for,
Smile
And ask him why he didn’t leave you sooner.
Ignore the way the words feel like sandpaper
Running all the way up your throat to your mouth.
When he blames you
For mistakes that wear his face,
Do not scream.
Do not cry.
Tell him that there are boys
Who would be proud to say they’d loved you.
Tell him that in two years
You won’t even remember his name
And don’t let him see the way you can taste your own lie.
When he leaves
Ignore the howling in your blood
And do not get up after him.
Not even to lock the door.
Do not, do not
Do not.
Smell his shirts when you box them up
To give them back.
Not one.
Swear off dating when you realize
You’re chasing ghosts that wear his smile.
It’s okay to cry over him.
It’s even okay to forgive him.
But do not go back to him.
If he did not know how to love you the first time,
He won’t know how to do it the next.
How To Pretend It Doesn’t Hurt, by Ashe Vernon (via sofarfetched)
Posted 3 weeks ago • 123,953 notes • viasourcereblog
It seems that when you want to make a woman into a hero, you hurt her first. When you want to make a man into a hero, you hurt… also a woman first.
Posted 3 weeks ago • 66,211 notes • viasourcereblog

the moment you realize
that your bones are made of the same dust
as the planets, 
your lungs are breathing the same air
as the migrating butterflies,
and your blood is pumping because
of the love and care of thousands;

is when you realize
that you are not as broken
as you think you are. 
you are full
of the world. 

Posted 3 weeks ago • 141,859 notes • viasourcereblog

I promise to love you:

at 6 am when you’re waking
to go to work, to school, or whatever
road life takes you on;
and when you didn’t sleep well,
your hair is a mess
and your eyes are sleepy.

at 8 am when we say goodbye
for the day and you’re rushing
out the door with a cup
of black coffee, after finishing
a morning cigarette
when your lips taste like
caffeine and nicotine.

at 3 pm when you’re exhausted
from the day and people have
worn you out and you feel like
sighing, crying, and falling asleep
and escaping in afternoon dreams.
I will kiss your forehead,
and wrap myself in your arms.

at 10 pm when you’re heading to bed,
even though you won’t sleep for hours
and you’ll flip through all the channels
tired of dismal newscasts and re-runs.
Especially when we become a human knot
wrapped up in sheets and kisses

at 3 am when loneliness and sadness
do not destroy you, but consume you
and when you weep without an explanation
I’ll kiss your lips, softly and
tell you you’re the absolute best.
When we talk about life
and why winter kills the flowers.

I will love you when you grow old,
I will love you even after that
I will love you if I’m no longer here
I will love you
I will love you
and I will love you.

—AKR

— I promise to love you forever (for Louis) by Amanda Katherine Ricketson 
Posted 3 weeks ago • 176,487 notes • viasourcereblog
I have lost and loved and won and cried myself to the person I am today.
— Charlotte Eriksson, Empty Roads & Broken Bottles; in search for The Great Perhaps 
Posted 3 weeks ago • 56,144 notes • viasourcereblog
I didn’t say “I love you” to hear it back. I said it to make sure you knew.
— Unknown 
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Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.
— George Orwell, 1984 
Posted 3 weeks ago • 4,697 notes • viasourcereblog
I think I’m just breathing, that’s all. And there’s a difference between breathing and being alive.
John BoyneThe Absolutist 
Posted 3 weeks ago • 982 notes • viasourcereblog
I didn’t sleep with him. Not even a kiss. Our last night together, at about 4 a.m., I retreated to take out my contacts, and when I returned, he was lying on the couch. I don’t know how it happened, but I ended up on the couch with him, wrapped in him, feeling safe and blissful and, dare I say it: loved. For the first time in my life. When he tried to kiss my neck, I told him it wasn’t a good idea at all, and he backed off. We lay in each other’s arms into the morning. You are beautiful, I tell him, and he says the same to me. The moment is beautiful. It is a moment I have never experienced before. It felt like pure bliss, pure acceptance, universal love, peace, and all the things people yearn for but don’t seem to find.
— René Vernor, from Anything Is Possible
Posted 3 weeks ago • 7,623 notes • viasourcereblog

1. When I walk into CVS, I know exactly where to find the band-aids. Four years of tearing yourself open and you get used to dragging yourself into your nearest drugstore with blood dripping down your sleeve while the employees pretend not to notice and smile at the wall behind you when they ring you up.

2. Swollen lips and sweaty “I love you’s” can make you feel again but god I don’t want to feel anything if it means having to sit there with my throat on fire while my ribs crack and splinter every part of my fucking body when he stops calling back.

3. I told my mother I wanted to fall in love and she told me she would start planning my funeral.

4. Words get trapped inside my chest and their edges cut into my heart. I wish I could just tell you how much I fucking miss you. I can’t stop bleeding.

5. My father always told me not to love someone with all of me because they’ll slam the door one night and forget to come home and they will take every fiber of my galactic being and leave me with nothing but the darkness in-between the stars.

6. There are plenty of ways to kill yourself, stick a gun to the back of your throat, fall asleep in the garage with the car on, jump into a river and let the rock in your chest where your heart used to be drag you to the bottom, smoke too many cigarettes, bleed yourself dry. I think the most effective way is kissing someone who’s name you will never be able to say without shaking.

7. You don’t drown in the ocean. You just become part of it. Your hair dissolves into waves, your lips turn to salt, your eyes melt into the sea. They say that drowning is peaceful but when I fell into you water rushed into my ribcage it was just a lot of choking and burning and thrashing and darkness.

8. When I told you I wanted you to fuck me I didn’t mean fuck me over.

9. Maybe you should come over. Maybe I should change the locks. I think I love you again.

10. I quit smoking because you could stop my hands from shaking just as well as a pack of cheap cigarettes but you rot my insides even worse.

— My parents keep asking why I haven’t gotten out of bed in two weeks
Posted 3 weeks ago • 24,383 notes • viasourcereblog
I’ve had so many knives stuck into me, when they hand me a flower I can’t quite make out what it is. It takes time.
— Charles Bukowski (Screams From the Balcony)
Posted 3 weeks ago • 11,257 notes • viasourcereblog
Ugly

writingsforwinter:

Your daughter thinks she is ugly.

Thinks her breasts are swollen to the point of ripe fruit

and no one will ever get lost in the forest between her legs.

She doesn’t understand that the blood coming from inside her

is war paint or that there is an entire universe spinning in her belly.

She thinks a red mouth and eyes lined with kohl

would make her beautiful, that she is too soft

and a man needs to roughen her edges like a whetstone.

Your daughter doesn’t know that some days she will feel like sawdust

because she is being carved from something more

and growing pains just mean more room to love.

She thinks she is ugly, so she doesn’t realize

an entire city is being built between her bones,

while all the ruins of Atlantis are sinking inside her heart,

and one day they will learn to float.

That is beautiful.

Posted 3 weeks ago • 2,005 notes • viasourcereblog
She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out.
— Tammara Webber, Where You Are 
Posted 3 weeks ago • 107,292 notes • viasourcereblog
I think and think and think, I’ve thought myself out of happiness one million times, but never once into it.
— Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer
Posted 3 weeks ago • 44 notes • viasourcereblog
I’m not sure if I’m depressed. I mean, I’m not exactly sad. But I’m not exactly happy either. I can laugh and joke and smile during the day, But sometimes when I’m alone at night I forget how to feel.
Posted 3 weeks ago • 217,692 notes • viasourcereblog
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