"She was like a drowning person, flailing, reaching for anything that might save her. Her life was an urgent, desperate struggle to justify her life."
- Jonathan Safran Foer, Everything Is Illuminated (via quotes-shape-us)

(via maryyannneeee)

story of my fucking life

Me: I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me I won't let it bother me

Me: *lays down to sleep at night*

Me: It bothers me, actually it really fucking bothers me, so let's lay here and think and stress about it instead of sleeping.

princehal9000:

winstons-and-enochs:

the guardian imagines what historical figures might look like today. my personal favourite is shakespeare, reincarnated as a shoreditch hipster.

but can you imagine how’d he’d sound a loft party? 
“I’m going to subvert the whole, like, narrative ideal by telling you upfront that these two, like, teenagers are going to fall in love and die, and then do it. So there’s no more hiding in the words. Stark, yeah? And then, I think I’ll hide a sonnet in their big scene together, right? It’ll be subversive, because only, you know, people who are up on sonnets will get it…..what? No, she’s thirteen—a little edgy but that’s art, man. Art.”

princehal9000:

winstons-and-enochs:

the guardian imagines what historical figures might look like today. my personal favourite is shakespeare, reincarnated as a shoreditch hipster.

but can you imagine how’d he’d sound a loft party? 

“I’m going to subvert the whole, like, narrative ideal by telling you upfront that these two, like, teenagers are going to fall in love and die, and then do it. So there’s no more hiding in the words. Stark, yeah? And then, I think I’ll hide a sonnet in their big scene together, right? It’ll be subversive, because only, you know, people who are up on sonnets will get it…..what? No, she’s thirteen—a little edgy but that’s art, man. Art.”

(via ijustwanttohugdavidtennant)

"The other day,
you walked by me with your friends
and I could feel the pity in your stare.
Don’t you do that.
Don’t you look at what I had for you and call it weak.
Not when you were the one afraid of it."
- Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried (via teenager90s)

(via kat-lives)

"

archive all of our memories like they matter,
like we mattered.
you and I both know the way a hurricane still destroys after
it is over.
you and I both know the way the phone rings when it isn’t ringing at all.

Tell me, do you remember?
do you remember the way my hands trembled?
do you remember the way my body slouched away from you when you
kissed me?
did it matter at all?

I took up painting after we parted and I don’t quite know how to tell you this,
but my self portrait looked like you
and I don’t know what this means,
but I know I will always be the one leaving from now on.

we can lose everyone in our lives and still relearn the way the bed feels…
cold.

If I cannot remember what my own hands feel like
what my hair smells like
what my eyes look like
how my thighs feel, clothed,
then who am I?
I was always yours.
I was always his.
I was always theirs.

I lost myself, but this time I am mine.

archive all of our memories like they matter,
like we mattered.
you and I both know the way a hurricane still destroys after
it is over.
you and I both know the way the phone rings when it isn’t ringing at all.

"
- Amanda Helm, Loss of You, Loss of Self  (via amandaspoetry)

(via amandaspoetry)

"

I am spitting out your name in the back of my bedroom.
I am six cups of coffees in, but that’s besides the point.
I am figuring out which parts of my personality are mine
and which ones I created to please you.

I am still holding onto some of the letters you wrote me.
I tell myself it’s to remember.
I tell myself it’s because I am afraid of forgetting
the early warning signs.
I tell myself I’m not sentimental.

I’m not sentimental.
I’m just afraid of throwing every burning thought
I have about you into the trash
and starting a wildfire.

Thinking about you takes effort now.
These days, if I want to bleed you out,
I have to grab a knife.

This is a form of self-abuse.
This is a form of reliving my youth.
This is a way to remember what it felt like to be near you.

"
- The Dust On This Poem Could Choke You| Lora Mathis (via lora-mathis)

(via mangled-passion)