I destroy myself so you can’t.
- Six Word Story #1  (via w-ildfires)

(Source: lost-explorations)

1. You will feel so alone you think you hear your bones screaming. The sky will look mint and the air will taste of mercury and purple salt. Here, you open the window and allow the cold to gnaw at your skin with it’s metal teeth. Allow it to ripple across your wrists like volcanic lava. Allow it to kiss your neck and tower over your eyelashes. Do not cry.

2. Make your walls bare. Take in the peeling paint. Take in the vast emptiness. Rip out every single page of your favorite novel and tape it to your walls. Breathe in the words. Exhale the characters, the plot, the black setting. Do not cry.

3. Fill the bathtub with water. Take a bath in the dark. Think about how the universe is expanding. You are made up of stardust. You have galaxies breathing inside your palms, the moon is swimming against your thighs. You are meteor showers and the Seven Sisters. Do not cry.

4. Wash your sheets with ivory detergent. Wash your hands with pomegranate soap. Put cucumbers on your eyes. Put lotion on your toes, elbows, collar bones. Do not cry.

5. Remember cities will burn and stomach acid will flood your liver and lungs. Remember people are making love, buying groceries, making omelets, committing murder, giving birth, taking exams, waiting for him, for her. Remember people are dying. You are not. Remember do not cry.

6. If there are needles stinging your chest and marmalade reminds you of red stained lips and hurricane eyes, write poetry. It is the only thing you can do. Paint yourself using the color of the sea. Do not limit yourself to blue. The ocean is not blue. It is brown and purple at sunrise. Green and opaque at dawn. Do not cry.

7. You are alone. There are gaps within us that can be filled with rubber cement. But we will always bleed. It is human nature. Let yourself bleed. The poison, the cockroaches, the mud, the oil. You are the only God you need. You are the only God you will ever need. And finally, baby, cry.

- confessions from my alcoholic mother  (via irynka)
I totally remember what it felt like to be so full…Full of promise, full of dreams, full of shit. Mostly just full of yourself. So full you’re bursting. And then you get out into the world, and people empty you out, little by little, like air from a balloon…You try like hell to fill yourself up with fresh air, from you and from other people. But back then…it was so damn effortless to feel full, you know? All you had to do was breathe.
- Jonathan Tropper (via feellng)
{tags}
Sometimes it’s best to pretend the show ended before the series finale
-

Fans everywhere (via randomstuffilike1995)

It doesn’t even matter what the show is

(via yankeecountess)

(Source: themindreadingmutant)

I either eat too much or starve myself. Sleep for 14 hours or have insomniac nights. Fall in love very hard or hate passionately. I don’t know what grey is. I never did.
- Unknown (via perfect)

(Source: hazelhirao)

and if I must be alone, then I will wear it with pride.
I will drink my orange juice, while fishing out the pulp with
a fork and forget that I ever let myself conform to
your silly desires. I will walk around my apartment
shirtless and stop at every mirror to admire
my love handles and stretch marks,
because I am fucking beautiful and you never told me
this enough. I will throw out all of your mail
and hope the neighbors stop by for extra
eggs or flour, or whatever neighbors want,
just so I can tell them that I am alone now
and laugh when they stumble to find the right words
to comfort me. You were the only one who could comfort me.
Everyone knew this.


and if I must be alone, I will not cry every night
because the bed is significantly colder when you are gone.
I will not keep your large t-shirts just to have your smell
linger on my skin a little bit longer. I will not read your piss-poor excuse
of a goodbye letter anymore and wonder what I did wrong.
What did I do wrong? I will open the windows instead of letting
the sound of your footsteps echo throughout these hallways.
I will not dial your new girlfriend’s number at four in the morning
just so I can hear you pick up the phone and answer with
that groggy voice of yours. I will not remember the first time
you told me you loved me. I will not make that groggy voice
what I hold onto when I must be alone. I will try to fall out of love
with you. I can not make any promises.