Don’t hurt yourself, kid. Life is too long for that. And no, you won’t die tomorrow. You know you won’t. That kind of chance doesn’t work in your favor. So don’t love, and don’t hurt. It’s not worth it.
I cried and cried and cried I cried about the time in the third grade when my shoes were stolen and no one did anything about it I cried remembering the time i confessed my love to Andy and he decided not to love me back I cried because everything is no longer mental its physical because i love you and you know it and you don’t care because i wrote this down and you won’t see it and you won’t care because no one took me aside and said your eyes are dim, baby you need a bit of rest take this bed take all beds and rest your weary soul because i’m 17 and i still want andy to love me love me, andy love me with something more than crayons and markers love me with heart and spirit give me things i can’t attain myself give them to me before i eat things i’m not supposed to before it gets any worse before i take too many showers or fall in love with hamlet again poor hamlet misunderstood little fuck why must he be so similar to me? so listen just love me with everything and i promise to love back
“let me tell you something about possession: never
let a man dictate your wingspan or your footwear.
there’s a god on every corner and not one
would have you mortgage your given body
for this man and his fur-lined tongue. don’t think
I don’t know about love; more goes unreported
in history than in myth. sell your story, Natalia,
before they scrape it from under your fingernails
as evidence / cut your hair. buy a building
in Brooklyn. lay down on a bed of teeth, alone.
peel back their fingerprints one by one, each incision
the hot face of a god, unfolding.”—Marty McConnell
LOL So I just watched this commercial where a mother was letting her son play in the dirt… and I was 100% sure it was going to be about soap or something, but then she’s like ‘I make sure to keep him clean by GIVING HIM GOOD MILK!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA Bitch, give him a shower! Not milk…
i havent changed my clothes because i dont give a shit. i dont want to fall in love with you. why is it so early i am so tired. i dont wanna be 12 years old and sleep so damn early. i want to watch a single man cuz it comes on soon. okay maybe i like you a little bit but its not like we are going to fuck so i’ll see you later. ugh im so tired. im typing so awkwardly my hands are so awkward. k cig and then movie. bybye.
I just said 'fuck you.' and it was harsh, and I was serious I think.
oh that's not good...
yeah I know... ugh I'm so stupid.
So what did he do? Walk away?
no, he didn't really respond at first but then he tried to like make light of the whole situation. Laughing at me and calling me clumsy and stuff. He was just making it seem like it was really...nothing.
well hey that's good! I'm actually surprised to hear he reacted that way. It sounds like he handled it perfectly.
sometimes I think to myself…. “Why didn’t I do this shit earlier?” then I’m like… oh yeah, i was up all night, probably crying over my grandmothers death, chain smoking my way out of sadness, fighting with my family, thinking about everything I’ve lost, trying to breathe, trying to swim, breathe, swim, breathe, swim…. realizing that nothing is going to be okay.
“Sooner or later in life everyone discovers that perfect happiness is unrealizable, but there are few who pause to consider the antithesis: that perfect unhappiness is equally unattainable. The obstacles preventing the realization of both these extreme states are of the same nature: they derive from our human condition which is opposed to everything infinite.”—Primo Levi, Survival in Auschwitz (via whiskey river)
[10/26/11] 'Seasons of the Present' (Written by Michael & Me)
We get our luck from timber smells, cigarette fingers and salty smiles photograph We exist for things unexplained and questions unanswered Mirroring each other in our graveyard thoughts We’ve got hearts but we don’t gulp We spit out feelings and drown them in the kitchen sink We’ve got our cards, but we don’t know how to play them So we shuffle till our hands turn gray and our lips are sore And we’re running too. We can see the end, but it doesn’t look so great We’re frustrated with the complexities of the infinite But we’ve realized we ARE infinite.
I don’t know the right things to say. I’m frustrated because I’m all out of cigarettes and I’m not sure what friendship means anymore. I’ve got essays to write and ideas to form and I’ve got to come up with good ways to stay sane. I don’t want to take care of you, I don’t want to take care of things. I don’t want to live for anyone else but me. I know, I know, I know. But hey, i think part of being emotionally fucked up is also being super selfish when you’re not expected to be. God, I’m alone. But I want this. I want it and I don’t want it. and fuck, I could go on forever, couldn’t i? But I’ve got essays to write and ideas to form and I’ve got to come up with good ways to stay sane.