March 2012
27 posts
dreamslow:
Sometimes, I wish that Hope, Elisha, and I were a girl gang.
We could have t-shirts, symbols, and our own language, too.
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My canvas shoes have holes in them, my socks do not match, my pants are four sizes too big, my shirt is probably a fashion nightmare from years ago, my jacket belonged to a seventy year old man before it was mine, my hair has been in a pony-tail for over a week, and I am saying the most ridiculous things to the wrong people because I’m sick for the fourth time this year — rain...
February 2012
13 posts
I’m not your criminal and you are not the law, so unlatch this tether, untie the rope, let me free. I tell you every single day that I’m trying—trying so hard that it makes me sick and exhausted and ready to give up my life completely even when I know subconsciously that is the last thing that I could do, for too many have already left, and I know the pain of being left behind...
He called me a diamond. Not because he thought that I was beautiful and one of a kind and wanted and cherished and sparkly and everything else diamonds are supposed to be. He called me a diamond because I was the only thing that pressed against his life of mirrors in such a way that he’ll always remember, because I left a trace.
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I’ve gone through several family members going in and out of the hospital, after being hurt or sick, dying, etc. I remember when I was nine, after my brother had taken his life and went away, my uncle (favorite uncle, ever, in ways that I don’t understand to this day—except that his best friend was my father, and they got each other really well on some levels, whether they were...
the-messenger-of asked: What gets you through bad days? What calms you down?
There is this stray cat that lives in my neighborhood; black and white, with the most sad cry you could ever imagine—and I call him my own, you see, even though he clearly doesn’t belong to anyone else except for the world that brought him in. So, this morning, while I had a cup of coffee and sat on the front porch, contemplating whether or not I wanted to greet the day with good...
I don’t think I have any other choice but to take care of myself this week.
When I logged into my blog about forty minutes ago and saw that yesterday really happened, that I seriously deleted everything that I ever felt good about writing, impulsively and stupidly - my head started to throb more than its ever throbbed in so long, my eyes began to burn, and right now I keep telling myself to let the tears fall down finally so that I can breathe again. Something. People...
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