cva111

[cva111]

[cva111]

casual survey: reblog if you want to kiss a girl right now

[cva111]

I would like to remind everyone getting all fussy about the "dirt under your fingernails" line from Vi is that psychologically, the meaning of the phrase "dirt under your fingernails" means "staying grounded, humble, and connected, to keep one's head out of the clouds, always keep one's feet on the ground, never get too caught up in one's self, spend some time on the front line."

By saying "nothings gonna clean me out" she means that she's going to stay connected to Caitlyn, this is basically a love confession from Vi. And its a line that fits Vi's character really well considering that for the entire show she's spent her time being caught up in herself, questioning the decisions she makes and her relationship with others (namely Jinx and Caitlyn). she's finally grounding herself, and I find that extremely poetic.

[cva111]

I spread pro glasses propaganda. Glasses are hot. Glasses are cool. Glasses will help you see boobs.

[cva111]

I grabbed for the tiny pieces you spilled and searched for every single scrap.

All of my own parts I gave to you and you only picked up the ones that had little bows and were tightly wrapped.

I tend to grasp for love and forget to grasp for air.

I search for your affection but your pieces are empty so I'm left in despair.

Losing my own pieces while seeking for yours, I crave your validation everywhere.

I want to feel like you are only devoted to me, for your love and affection I never want to share.

I want to feel loved and I want to feel wanted.

I want to feel like the pieces are aren't just thrown but handed to me with care.

For the love I give is the love I want to receive.

All the empty love and affection have left my heart in hunger and grieve.

Yet of what you stole from me, you remain completely unaware.

[cva111]

Sometimes my scars turn into fresh wounds again, making me wonder if they have ever been healed in the first place.

The pain visits, once again, just like it did when the wound was still fresh.

And when it healed it seemed to have vanished, as if it had never been there in the first place.

The wound tears open, the pain seizing my body just as it did when it first striked.

Reminding me of the cause, making me believe the wound will never heal again.

Sometimes, my wounds turn into healed scars again, making me wonder if they have ever been open in the first place.

[cva111]

I want to write all the time.

When I tell people what my mind says, it feels like I am talking to a wall.

But when I write, I feel listened to.

Listened to by the silence.

The paper never speaks to me.

I speak to the paper and it understands what I mean.

I wish I would never have to talk to people, because when I write I can sort my thoughts and be more precise.

When I talk to people they only hear but never listen.

Maybe I can find the paper

Within myself.

[cva111]

[cva111]

Spot the difference

[cva111]

When I feel, I tend to see writing it down as my only option. An option that would help when I feel bad and make it stronger when I feel good and make me awake when I feel tired and make me calm when I feel angry.

And when I look at what I have articulated I start to analyze it and I notice all the sentences that don't make sense, all the words that don't sound pretty, all the errors and mistakes.

My feelings seem to only be worth something if I can turn them into art, but if they don't sound like art, they seem so meaningless and empty.

I want to fill them with meaning because I seem to never find meaning in anything but art.

And I seem to find so much meaning in art

Meaning in art, that erases the art

I find comfort in my writing if it is worth to be read.

And understood.

Or maybe I can not accept

That art can not

Always

Be beautiful

And I myself feel meaningless.

And I myself feel empty.

- Clara

[cva111]

My heart feels like a volcano.

Hot magma all over it.

My brain empty but my mind full of thoughts.

My body shaking from the outbreak.

I could cry out the magma but it would stick all over my body.

Burning me.

Yet I am burning from the inside, slowly melting away as my insides dissolve into nothingness.

[cva111]

The mud sticks and smells bad, but it is kind of warm.

I have been laying in it for a long time.

I have been trying to get out, without success.

In the beginning I was completely clean so when I first layed in it I tried to get rid of it.

I tried and tried, suffering, suffocating.

But now there is not a single clean spot on my skin.

The feeling of being clean is erased out of my head, I don't know it anymore.

So I lay without trying to fight it, still suffering but suffering in comfort.

What else would I do, when being in mud is all I know?

The mud has become a part of me and I have become a part of the mud.

It is wet and dirty but also soft.

It has gotten comfortable.

The pain has gotten comfortable.

[cva111]

The freshness of spring greets and my heart feels a little lighter.

Why then, does it still feel rotten?

When it was winter your love felt like the sun.

Now the sun isn't enough.

[cva111]

is anyone else just like. constantly filled with rage about their position under late capitalism and how we are expected to just keep playing this game that we know will literally kill us, is already killing people all over the world, and yet everyone around us is somehow fine with going about business as usual, with pretending we are free by being able to choose between different ways of being exploited. there is nothing more dehumanising than being forced to partake in a system that is actively detrimental to our survival as human beings, that is so physically, psychologically and spiritually destructive, and i don’t know how to deal with this anger anymore

[cva111]

I wish I could tell you that I miss you.

I wish I could tell you that I still think about you every day.

I wish you would know, when we call I remember all the little things you say.

And I hear them in my head, echoing, pushing my other thoughts away.

And no matter how much I try to forget how your lips felt, how your hands felt in mine, how your smile made me smile too every time, I kind of still wish you stayed.

I wish I could tell you that I miss you.

[cva111]

that period of time when a hyperfixation ends and you haven't found a replacement yet, that's the true definition of raw dogging life

[cva111]