chaos-musing

[chaos-musing]

that daughterhood feeling of wanting to blame your mother for how you turned out, wanting to be angry at her for how you've inherited her pain and her insecurities, but at the same time wanting to keep coming home to her, out of everyone else in the universe, because you know that if there's anyone who might be anything like you-if there's anyone who might even have a clue of what it's like to be you-it could only be her. and no matter how many times you've hurt each other, no matter how difficult it might be to get her to truly see you, you still just want her to love you as you are, to tell you that this isn't your fault, and to show you that she would keep. letting you come home to her.

[chaos-musing]

no one talks about how hard it is when your mood is constantly switching between "its okay, i don't care. i'm fine" and "i don't know how much more i can take"

[chaos-musing]

[chaos-musing]

Last one standing was never a title I wanted

[chaos-musing]

[chaos-musing]

But they did, didn’t they?

They batted against your sharp edges until you fit into their perfect mold.

What were you before they told you who you had to be?

Fearless to fearful. Bright to dim.

How impossible it was to keep your unique with their forceful demand of common.

And when they declared you defeated you agreed. Because they did, didn’t they?

Now you are long free, but they linger. Whispering doubts.

Their echos still ring with every glance in a mirror.

So you tell your anger, fear and softness to harden

And you sharpen those blunted edges until they glimmer in the light.

They whisper how could such acid come from what was once so sweet?

But they made You, didn’t they?

[chaos-musing]

[chaos-musing]

Homesick for a home that hasn’t existed for 20 years

[chaos-musing]

Sometimes I think I see her

The girl that was once me

Hiding just out of frame, beyond what I can see

Sometimes I think I hear her

The girl I used to be

In the quite of the night, she whispers to me

Sometimes I think I feel her

The younger, softer me

Still waiting, full of hope and lost dreams

[chaos-musing]

“The CAUSE OF DEATH was as follows: Exhaustion of Melancholia”

(1923 death certificate from New Brunswick, Canada)

[chaos-musing]

I love this poem so much

Here is what they don’t tell you:

Icarus laughed as he fell. Threw his head back and yelled into the winds, arms spread wide, teeth bared to the world.

(There is a bitter triumph in crashing when you should be soaring.)

The wax scorched his skin, ran blazing trails down his back, his thighs, his ankles, his feet. Feathers floated like prayers past his fingers, close enough to snatch back. Death breathed burning kisses against his shoulders, where the wings joined the harness. The sun painted everything in shades of gold.

(There is a certain beauty in setting the world on fire and watching from the centre of the flames.)

[chaos-musing]

In the end, we were all just humans, drunk on the idea that love, only love, could heal our brokenness.

- F. Scott Fitzgerald

[chaos-musing]

[chaos-musing]

Go to Pinterest. Type:

“Celebrity”

“Outfit”

“Quote”

“Aesthetic”

That’s your vibe.

[chaos-musing]

I wish I could find the words to explain the feeling of missing someone so much but also being incredibly angry with them at the same time

[chaos-musing]

[chaos-musing]

I don’t know how I feel, but someday I might