For You And Me Who Experience Artblock.. Keep On Drawing!

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

rereading @icaruspendragon ‘s poetry book and my whole camera roll is full of passages to think about and how my therapist, since her words are helping me with my words

— Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

#100

It was a wondrous day with splendid company.

Old friends but fresh rushes of feelings, turns of conversation,

And the laughter?

Hers.

Rich, bubbling, pure.

Like mustard meadowlarks singing for mountains streams.

His.

Grounded, unexpected, revitalizing.

The rough stream of sounds a lake makes under the watch of a persistent moon.

And of course, mine.

Not much of note, but if I were to speculate,

A little kitten leaping up the scales of an out of tune piano.

we had harmonized together.

Every hour was full of sweet humor and compassions.

When I had slipped into something less than,

His hand was at my slumped shoulder, thin fingers spinning shapes into my sleeve.

When it happened again and I felt at a loss,

She hurried beside me to help roll up my sleeves.

I'd like to believe I had been there for them in the smallest of ways.

There was surprise hugs from behind and comments of sentiment,

Shared sandwiches and the sweetest of silences.

A trio like us made me think of

Mundane mornings, nights out and exploring, of-

I pulled away.

It's a wondrous friendship we shared.

In a way, their company was wondrous and fearful tucked in a bundle.

I had hoped to keep relishing in their laughter for a long time.

I’ve had other wonderful days,

And yet

the trolley problem vs. systemic oppression: a comic.

marie howe, in an interview with krista tippett of on being

you can pry starting sentences with 'and' or 'but' out of my cold, dead hands

I vote that your writing continues to be:

self indulgent

cringe

weird

bizarre

long

short

sappy

only for your eyes

obnoxious

You're allowed to have your own voice. You're allowed to write something only you want to read. Seize the freedom you were never given in your 8th grade English class!

a lil poem i wrote while procrastinating my schoolwork

Reblog so everyone can hear what they need.