"Never regret thy fall,
O Icarus of the fearless flight
For the greatest tragedy of them all
Is never to feel the burning light."
-Oscar Wilde
Attacked.
“The danger with the eloquent poetess is that she might turn herself into a beautiful disaster.”
—
love this bohemian maximalism
oh, i am finally old enough to know why my parents took so long to grab their coats. why they would ask us to get ready to go only to sit down for another round of coffee. what would i tell myself, at 10 years old? it’s okay. sit down with them too. take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. when you get home, write down every moment in your diary. one day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to your best friend, and you will turn the key to start your beat up little car engine, and you will look back over your shoulder. her hair will be blowing in the wind and she will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. what you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. and you will think of being 14 and kicking her under the table in math every time you wanted to whisper something behind the teacher’s back. you will think about how long the days felt, and how you could hold her hand whenever you wished, but you didn’t. and you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. and you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that - more time to linger. more time to say - i love you. i know i need to leave, but i don’t want to leave you. and when i go, i am leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too.
one more round of coffee. the days are so short, and you are so lovely.
Storm.
We create them.
With a web of lies,
And fake cries.
Then we sigh
When we are too high,
With all the water
Above the head.
We weep again this time
With real tears instead.
But the storm can't be stopped now.
Its no use to keep wondering how?
And so its starts to rain.
And so we regret everything
But all in vain.
#spilledwords #poetry #writer #spilledink #writings #spilledthoughts #writerscrew #heartbroken #love #best #storm #prose #poem #me #heart
“THE WORLD IS increasingly designed to depress us. Happiness isn’t very good for the economy. If we were happy with what we had, why would we need more? How do you sell an anti-ageing moisturiser? You make someone worry about ageing. How do you get people to vote for a political party? You make them worry about immigration. How do you get them to buy insurance? By making them worry about everything. How do you get them to have plastic surgery? By highlighting their physical flaws. How do you get them to watch a TV show? By making them worry about missing out. How do you get them to buy a new smartphone? By making them feel like they are being left behind. To be calm becomes a kind of revolutionary act. To be happy with your own non-upgraded existence. To be comfortable with our messy, human selves, would not be good for business.”
— Matt Haig, Reasons to Stay Alive (via theglasschild)
"Because I'm starting to wonder if this is what being in love is. Being okay with ripping yourself to shreds, so the other person can stay whole"
- Olive, the Love Hypothesis
The heart is the toughest part of the body. Tenderness is in the hands.
(from Carolyn Forché's The Country Between Us)
Hands are unbearably beautiful. They hold on to things. They let things go.
- Mary Reufle -
Take my hands in your hands, teach me to remember, teach me not to remember.
(from H.D.'s piece, "Helen in Egypt")
My hands wanted to touch your hands because we had hands.
(from Frank Bidart's poem, In the Western Light)
We held hands.
I was wondering what it would be like to have a home of your own where you could come and go, where people would be welcome, where you would never be frightened again.
-Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal
Holding Hands- A Love Language
I haven’t been on tumblr for quite as long as a lot of people but over several years I’ve noticed this interesting gradual sorta,, shift in the general culture? that it went from this mostly depressed, nihilistic outlook where people would regularly joke about hating themselves and being hopeless and depressed, to a wave of vehemence of “STOP hating everything actually the world is Good and you deserve love!!!” type posts, to now, where those aggressive ‘PSAs’ have faded away and instead I regularly see people romanticizing simple things like stars and hot tea and rainy mornings, and waxing poetic about their friends, and just trying to put love out there. and I don’t know exactly what that means (someone who knows more than me could probably say something smart about generational expression and trauma or popular perception of mental health and whatnot), but I do know that it makes my heart very full to see people learn to love the world and themselves by extension, and a whole userbase adopting healthier coping mechanisms, and therefore teaching the younger users to do so as well. I might just be following different people, but I really do think we’ve grown. everyone has grown. five years ago it wasn’t unusual for the next post on my dash to be a scathing commentary on why nothing matters or an anon ripping into someone they barely knew or someone complaining about how pathetic their interests are. now I have mutuals who get excited and spam reblog art of cows and friends I see tagging each other in pictures of frogs and strangers writing paragraphs about how much I matter. it makes me happy. idk. just an observation I wanted to make. I think people are good and everyone’s just trying their best at the end of the day
moving far away to a sunny place.
“She wears strength and darkness equally well, the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.”
— Nikita Gill (via quotemadness)
(pretentious pen name to make it seem like im cool check) ENFP-T/Pisces/ love writing :)
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