November 3rd, 2013

sophiealdred:

astoldbygengar:

lets just be clear, if you spend the time baking a cake/cookies/brownies, you can eat as many of them as you want and the calories don’t count. you made those calories. you’re their god.

disclaimer: this does not apply to children you have made

(Source: mayadevilou, via perforating)

July 1st, 2013

cascadingraindrops:

I bought a joint at a coffee shop in Amsterdam and smoked it in the bar next door. I watched the girls in the windows with eyes as crimson as their lights and wondered what it must feel like to be purchased for a night. 

A year later and I think I can finally relate.

He begged for my sex when the early morning rays streaked my brows. He begged for my sex when my legs were spread a thousand miles from his.

"I’m lucky to have had you -" he whispered through the phone on a midnight call. “I am so lucky.”

In the dark, against the wall, on the desk, on the floor at 12am, at 6am, at 3pm. At. At. At. Oh.

I trusted. I held on. He was a lover of two months, a best friend of four years, and a liar for all twenty-one years of his existence.

He bought me with fraudulent trust, corrupt promises, and the lies he laced my tongue with as he kissed, lies that told me I meant more than just this. 

The night I found out I was just another conquest I stood by the oceanside with crimson eyes and watched those girls in my mind. I took another hit, blowing the smoke into the ocean air, and realized I wasn’t as different as I’d like to think.

June 30th, 2013

Trust

You know, trust is a funny thing. It’s so fragile. It’s a priceless antique vase. One slip, one bump, one little shift of the foundation, and it shatters. A shower of glittering fragments. Sometimes your so concerned with keeping that vase in tact, so worried with losing it, that you forget the reason you have it in the first place. You forget to simply admire the beauty of it.

You don’t appreciate what you had until it’s gone.

Sure, you can try to repair it. Glue it back together. A long, painstaking experience. Each small piece a sharp and jagged reminder to your bloody fingers that you should have been more careful. At the end of which it still won’t be the same. It has lost all value. Sometimes we wonder if we should bother with putting it back together. We think we should just sweep it up and toss it away with this morning’s coffee grounds.

Trust is a funny thing.

May 9th, 2013

I stood there, helpless. The white walls closing in around me. The clean smell of antiseptic clinging to my tongue as I gripped her chilled hand in mine. Despair. It was like a fog, and the harsh lights did nothing to dispel it. There were too many people in that tiny little white room, too many bodies, but everything was still, as if time itself were holding it’s breath. Waiting. Waiting for something. Waiting for permission. I squeezed her hand tighter, I tried to force one corner of my mouth into a sad smile, but I don’t think my muscles responded. Maybe they did, because a ripple moved through the room as she finally looked at me. The usual brilliance of her blue-green eyes were muted. Dimmed with shock and beneath it, pain. The grief, the loss, it choked me. I couldn’t breathe. She shook her head, closed her eyes again. She knew what I wanted to tell her, all the things I didn’t know how to say. I didn’t have to say them. A nurse moved close to her, pressed against the bed. I didn’t even hear the words. A moment passed. The hand in mine squeezed back and I watched as her eyes opened, tears leaked out. She nodded and the room around us erupted into activity. A frenzy impossible to follow. I stroked her temple, brushing the hair away from her face. I told her I loved her. I told her how strong she was. “My baby..” She whimpered as the doctor cut the cord. The fragile pink body was cleaned and wrapped in a blanket. Not even big enough for clothes. “I want to hold her..” Barely a whisper, but it was answered immediately as they placed the tiny infant in her mothers waiting hands.

July 15th, 2012

Envy, Pain, Betrayal, Anger, Jealousy,Hate.

All these feelings stir again. Awake in me something feral. Taints my vision red, paints my soul black.

Vengeance.

Rip, tear, shred, break, crunch, scream, cry.

Bring me back from the brink of my madness.

June 26th, 2012

Soul Mate

Plato

In his dialogue The Symposium, Plato has Aristophanes present a story about soul mates. Aristophanes states that humans originally had four arms, four legs, and a single head made of two faces, but Zeus feared their power and split them all in half, condemning them to spend their lives searching for the other half to complete them.

Do you believe in Soul Mates?

bluesandbarebones:

Occasionally I am reminded

of the reasons
I write
and the reasons
I share my writing
with strangers
on the internet
and not my own
family or friends.

One of those reasons
would be not having to answer
such questions as:

“Does anybody actually know
these words you are using here?”

“Wait, is this about me?” 

“I thought this was a love poem.
Why is it so sad? This is terrible.”

“Are you sure this isn’t about me?”

“I’m sorry I just don’t have any idea
what you’re talking about. Can you please
explain this in simple words?”

“I know you said this one isn’t about me
but really, could you just change the ending?”

“Do people like this kind of thing?”

“You know this isn’t actual poetry, right?
I mean, nothing here is rhyming.
Did you mean for this to rhyme?” 

“Wow. I’ve never heard anything like that before.
Did you make that up?”

“It sounds good but I’m a little concerned
about you now. Are you ok?” 

I’m not sure where I’m going with this
except to say,
not everybody appreciates 

sushi. So don’t be offended
when you offer it
and they wrinkle their nose

and say “Don’t you know
that has raw fish in it?”
“You like that seaweed stuff?”

Just bow graciously,
give a polite Oyasumi nasai, 
and retreat back into the darkness

of your anonymous 
private
kitchen.

Love this.

My dearest sons,

           I’m writing this so that you will understand. What I feel for you. How important you are to me. How important you are to the world. I hope and pray everyday by the time you are old enough to understand this that I will be able to tell you myself. My father wasn’t able to tell me. So I am leaving this. For you. Just in case it’s needed.

           I love you. Know that. Above anything else, I love you so deeply, sometimes it hurts. Sometimes I just stare at you and I can’t believe how that love that be so entangled in my marrow, singing in my blood, branded on my heart, etched into my soul. It is unconditional. Nothing will stop it, erase it, or cause it to fade. Gay, straight, liberal, conservative, alcoholic, prostitute. I love you. You grow up to be a serial killer? Maybe that’s my fault, who knows, but I will still love you. Forever.

          I might get mad sometimes. I’m not perfect. I might even scream, or cry, or curse. I might be disappointed with you if I know you didn’t do your best. You’re probably going to feel like you hate me sometimes. I promise I’ll always admit when I was wrong, and apologize. I promise I will try to be consistent, and structured, and you will have a curfew. I will make sure you do your homework, and I will find out when you lie. I promise I will always take care of you when you are sick, by making chicken soup or grilled cheese just the way you like it. I promise I won’t ever forget to tell you how much I love you, and I will always try to remember what it was like to be 16.

          I promise you will always be able to tell me anything. But I can’t always promise just telling me the truth won’t get you in trouble, I can promise you will be in less trouble than if you lie. You will believe in Santa Claus, at least for a while. But I won’t ever lie to you when it’s important. I will strive to teach you everything I know. Even if you won’t listen, I’m going to try anyway.

          I tried so hard to stay with your father. I wanted us to stay together. It was just something that could not be. It’s not your fault. Don’t ever blame yourself. I hope someday you will understand. Or maybe I hope you won’t ever have to. Just know that we both love you very much, and it’s better this way. Better for all of us.

          You are amazing, wonderful, strong. I’m not going to tell you that you can be whatever you want, or become whatever you set your mind to. Life doesn’t always work out that way. I can tell you that if you want it bad enough, and you apply yourself, you are giving it your best shot. That’s all you can do. If it doesn’t work out. You didn’t fail. You tried, and that is more than most people ever do. Always have faith in yourself. Never forget that I always have faith in you, I am your number one fan, your biggest cheerleader, and I will always encourage you to follow your dreams.

                                                                            Love Always,

                                                                            Your Mother.

June 22nd, 2012

If I could let go,

Forget,

Forgive,

Never regret.

I’d be okay.

I think,

I’d be okay.

June 20th, 2012

I have to go and do something productive.

June 19th, 2012

heyweirdgirl:

Was it fun for you?

I can remember you standing there, the missing piece of my internal puzzle. Blonde hair that fell across your brow and could almost but not quite hide the beauty of your green eyes. That kind of green I’m envious of. Emerald crystals with shining spots of endless jade. I wanted so badly to close the distance between us and brush the hair from those gorgeous eyes, but I didn’t know you then. I’d only heard of you. With one glance I was caught, like a bird in a cage, desperately flapping my wings against the metal mesh. Wanting escape, but knowing I would injure myself before it was ever granted. Then you talked to me, and your voice was rough, but heavy with intelligence that was mirrored in those perfect eyes. I crashed once more against my cage, and then gave in to my confinement and lost myself in you and me. In laughter that actually reached my heart. It had been too long since I laughed like that.

I can feel it. A beginning.

He told her that what they had was real. It was love. Unbreakable, unmovable, unbelievable. He said that they had to make it work. He said they had to see it through to the end.

Love was too dark of a veil over the truth. “He loves me so much. He’s afraid I’ll leave.” She would tell herself. Tell the broken reflection in the shattered mirror. “He needs me.” That woman with the swollen lip would tell her. “We love each other.”

It took too long. But she found the end in the broken promises. She found the end in her battered heart and bruised arms. In his guilt laden apologizes that were worthless now. She found the end because she couldn’t see the beginning anymore. Not through her tear filled eyes.

"I don’t deserve this. I am stronger than you are."

blueskyemergency:

“Why do you do it,” I asked her.

“To survive,” she said.

I sighed. It’s sad, seeing how fucked the world is. A girl, not yet a woman, selling herself to feed her and her tiny sibling. I invited her and her sister over for dinner. She accepted the offer.

Later that night, I opened the door to my apartment and held it while two girls followed me inside. I noticed the small, temporary tattoos of butterflies that they both had on their palms.

We ate dinner, the biggest meal I had cooked in months. I filled their plates for seconds and thirds, barely talking while they scarfed the food. “Spend the night,” I told them, “blankets are in the hall closet. The couch folds out into a bed.” The older girl nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Her smile, better than a thank you.

In the morning, I started a pot of coffee while the girls slept peacefully. Pouring my second cup, they started to stir. The older girl walked into the kitchen and I offered her a cup. “No thank you,” she said, “you have done so much for us already.”

As they were leaving, I asked why the butterflies were placed on their palms instead of their arms.

“It’s a reminder. A reminder that even beautiful things don’t last. That anything can crumble or fall apart, especially in the hands of another being. A reminder to stay strong and beautiful until the end, until your shine fades into the background.”

This is just amazing.

(via blueskyemergency-deactivated201)