You deserve the kind of love you would give someone else.
#127: (February 3, 2014)

(Source: write2014)

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.


Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time  (via exoticwild)

(Source: anamorphosis-and-isolate)

There were many nights where I felt the tears crowding against the back of my throat. I was in a boat with just enough holes to keep my hands busy, never floating, never sinking.

You left me while my ankles were still dry, before things got to the point where I was constantly soaked - you left me in little ways as if you were forgetting I used to be your home. You didn’t text first anymore. You used one-word replies. Nothing I said was funny, it was annoying, it was overly happy, it was forced to you as if my kisses had become a foreign language. I excused every moment of it. I told myself the taste of salt water was poisoning your tongue, that my darkness was stinging your open wounds, that the ocean that grew between us started as a puddle and could go back to being one, that love is a choice and if I fought hard enough, you’d choose us.

And one day I realized that you used to be the first person I could go to for anything and you had somehow become the opposite, that I was terrified of admitting weakness, that any potential burden I placed upon you panicked me. And maybe this would have never mattered but at the same time the boat flooded and I found myself alone in a way I had never been, I found myself in a place where I had often used razor blades as lifejackets, where the great grey had been fought off by taunting the sharks with bleeding until they had swallowed me. But for the first time in my life, I looked up to the sky and told myself that this time, I wasn’t going to drown, I was going to grow wings.

Maybe it’s best you forgot my name. I rebuilt the letters until they were stronger than the girl you used to know, I rebuilt me. I have never been able to swim, I don’t know why I was so enamored with the ocean. I deserve flight. It hurt for a while, but something kept my heart pounding and full of light. I was without anything - without you, without friends, without blades to keep me company - and despite everything I had assumed, I somehow made it through.

Maybe that’s what it takes to learn strength: losing everything, so quickly, so quietly, so catastrophically - so much so that you discover that your house can burn and your mother can get sick and your dog can die and it can all take place in the span of a month but when you look down, this body, your body: for once, you’ve kept this body is whole.

I don’t need you anymore.


And from the clouds I entered, I have spotted land. I am saved, and this time, it is by my own weak hands. /// r.i.d (via inkskinned)

jakemalik:

i bet you don’t even have 99 problems, you probably have like 92 or 93, stop exaggerating

camomaiff:

i don’t want to need someone to feel happy.

it’s okay to miss the people who were bullets to you
poems from my uncles grave  (via suchvodka)

(Source: howl-in-rockland)