katarimuso

[katarimuso]

I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions.

Sylvia Plath (via quotemadness)

[katarimuso]

Hera was darkness but it was love that made her that way. That is what loving the wrong person can do. It will take the brightness and make the darkest thing out of you.

Nikita Gill, Hera (via meanwhilepoetry)

[katarimuso]

Let it hurt, it`s how we heal.

Slayer

[katarimuso]

Laughter used to come easier. Lately, tears fall with every breath.

Slayer

[katarimuso]

She was held together by hope, love, cigarettes and bourbon.

Slayer

[katarimuso]

She learned to read the changing seasons by the wind. She learned the same for those she loved way too late.

Slayer

[katarimuso]

Once you are used to the idea of losing things it no longer holds value.

Sore Agbaje

[katarimuso]

Fine is never fine. Fine is a shadow of who you wanna be.

Slayer

[katarimuso]

She dances with aching feet. It has kept her alive.

Katari Muso

[katarimuso]

And the day came when bourbon and cigarettes did not help numb the pain anymore.

Katari Muso

On Survival 

[katarimuso]

And then there are days the lonely does not wash off.

Katari Muso

[katarimuso]

What about you and why you wanted this? A dream doesn`t start out being about what they`ll say or think.

Katari Muso

[katarimuso]

well now...

[katarimuso]

And even if you only laughed once today, you had a good day

Slayer

[katarimuso]

I get the most frustrated with characters who refuse to make the choices I wish I would have made when I was in situations similar to theirs.

Sometimes relating to characters can be a real eye-opening bitch.

[katarimuso]

I mean they don’t seem able to love us just the way we are. They don’t seem able to love us unless they can keep changing us a little bit. They love their reasons for loving us almost as much as they love us, and most of the time more.

J.D. Salinger (via quotemadness)

I will never stop reblogging this

[katarimuso]

Woman-in-progress

You're doing it wrong you know, this thing you call healing. You wear survivor like you wear lipstick, infrequently. You wear failure and sadness like Converse,  all the time. You wear a smile, like water in the desert, inconsistently. You have to take deep breaths, think positively, do yoga and drink tea. Your love of coffee, ciggarettes, bourbon and chronic sadness is making you even sicker than you already are. Think happy thoughts you chant as you sink back into bed with tears stains on your cheek. Visualize your future you beg as you scowl in frustration at the work you know you should finish but you are finding it impossible to concentrate. That's not how you heal you tell yourself every morning as you stare at your reflection. Tired eyes, hollow cheeks, mouth etched downwards. Your so dark and emo, friends joke. You freeze but laugh along. Laugh because they are not wrong. You are dark and you have been for a long time. So long in fact, you wouldn't know light if it burned you. It is hard work this healing, and I don't mean that green tea tastes horrible, that yoga makes you feel embarrassed, because it's been years since you've done anything but exist or that the only deep breathing you've done is inhale the sharp, burning of ciggarette smoke. No, I mean the tediousness of it all. The process, missing the drama of falling apart. It's repetitive and boredom, well that could kill me faster than any of my vices. I am a drama addict and the process is anticlimactic. It's on going and messy. I am sorry for the mess, I am a woman in progress.