June 2013
Pompeii
Bastille
how am i gonna be an optimist about this?
The things I want conflict with everyone else’s schedules/lives/desires. I hate being in the way. I hate being the source of frustration. I hate conflict.
I know exactly what to do but in a much more real sense I have no idea what to do.
“Leaving is not enough. You must stay gone. Train your heart like a dog. Change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. You lucky, lucky girl. You have an apartment just your size. A bathtub full of tea. A heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. Don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. You had to have him. And you did. And now you pull down the bridge between your houses, you make him call before he visits, you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. Make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. Place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. Don’t lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”
—Frida Kahlo (via thatkindofwoman)
i. we spent the cool edges of the day in limbo. we had money and transportation. we had time and piles of destinations. we had maps and satellites and street signs and nowhere to go.
ii. when the sun came out, wind gave way to children. as if they had been hiding in the shadows, they flooded the square without cue. hastily thrown together games and adventures reigned between towering monuments of history.
iii. i gave you a stolen daisy for your hair. you gave money to a homeless woman who was crying and injured as the daisy melted in the hot city air. we laid in the grass and watched our lives go by briefly in peace. it was the first time i ever felt useful by doing nothing
walk up in the club like “end rape culture, unlearn sexism, question gender, fight back”
maybe it said something
about you that you
wanted to be understood
throw shreds of yourself
at people and hope they
cared
maybe it said something
about me that i
wanted to be loved
skip straight from hello
to kisses under the
starlight.
my best friend asks me
to tell her about my past.
this is something you are
a part of so somehow i
can’t find the strength to
say anything.
you you you you you—-
i want to be me again.
I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I want to scream and bruise my fists on a brick wall. I want to punch a mirror and cherish each glassy cut. I want scars where your hands once were; I want brand new skin to replace the me you knew. I want to scream at you and about you and up at the sky. I want to chant over and over, spitting and rasping: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.
It’s too loud in this house. There are literally only five other people here. I am the old lady below your apartment.
(Get off my lawn)
“the year of letting go, of understanding loss.
grace of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’.
the year of humanity/humility.
when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed.
everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing
‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’.
the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands.
the year i learnt small talk.
and how to smile at strangers.
the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask
‘do you want to be my friend?’.
the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness.
honey honey.
the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it.
the year of hugging people i don’t know,
because i want to know them.
the year i made peace and love,
right here.” —Warsan Shire (via thegreatfiresoflove)
grace of the word ‘no’ and also being able to say ‘you are not kind’.
the year of humanity/humility.
when the whole world couldn’t get out of bed.
everyone i’ve met this year, says the same thing
‘you are so easy to be around, how do you do that?’.
the year i broke open and dug out all the rot with own hands.
the year i learnt small talk.
and how to smile at strangers.
the year i understood that i am my best when i reach out and ask
‘do you want to be my friend?’.
the year of sugar, everywhere. softness. sweetness.
honey honey.
the year of being alone, and learning how much i like it.
the year of hugging people i don’t know,
because i want to know them.
the year i made peace and love,
right here.” —Warsan Shire (via thegreatfiresoflove)
“We wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. But inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are.”
—Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena (via h-o-r-n-g-r-y)
Holy crap. My grandpa is sorta an asshole.
“Science—
beyond pheromones, hormones, aesthetics of bone,
every time I make love for love’s sake alone,
I betray you.” —Katherine Larson, from “Love at Thirty-Two Degrees” (via littlebirdsings)
beyond pheromones, hormones, aesthetics of bone,
every time I make love for love’s sake alone,
I betray you.” —Katherine Larson, from “Love at Thirty-Two Degrees” (via littlebirdsings)
