Text
“I think hell is something you carry around with you. Not somewhere you go.”
— Neil Gaiman, The Sandman
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
My father’s mother always called us dumb, idiots, jerks. I wrote about it thirty years too late.
I taught myself how to tie shoes.
Sitting on the coarse white carpet,
Free of the red wine stains that were to come.
I asked for help, for guidance, as she took another sip.
Pleads left unanswered to soil at the bottom of the bottle.
I taught myself how to tie shoes so she could get off the couch.
I taught myself how to tie shoes because I was seven years old, showing you I was not stupid.
1 note
·
View note
Text
9K notes
·
View notes
Text
Your soul stained my shoulders. My whole life smells like you. This will take time, undoing you from my blood.
Nayyirah Waheed
4K notes
·
View notes
Photo
18K notes
·
View notes
Text
To the girl I don’t remember being
The years faded into days
Before I realized what took me over
I’ll hold you close, tender girl
Through sleepless nights and painful withdrawals
To the money spent that wasn’t mine to waste
All the racing thoughts and nose bleeds
I’ll hold you close, sweet girl
You make it to the other side
And I am so proud of you.
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Loving an addict is a lot of things.
I can’t look at him and tell him what he’s doing is tearing me up inside. I cannot handle the guilty sad look on his face. This is not something he WANTS. This is something that challenges him every minute of every day. There is a monster living inside of him…not in a costume, no, he’s still him. He’s still his body and soul working so hard to keep the monster at bay, deeply under his skin, belonging to the darkness. I can’t tell anyone how this makes me feel. He can’t go to anyone else about this either. Do two shitty situations make a good situation? No. But it grounds me. It grounds me to him. Us. Each other. Something that is completely mine and no one else’s. No matter what, who, out of love or anger or sadness or both, they can’t help but express concern and opinion. There’s no room for that on my table right now. A table for two.
1 note
·
View note
Text
I relapsed.
I let you in again.
You and your poisonous words.
Your toxins and lies.
This time, though,
Your words were masked,
Placed in a pretty little box;
Apologies filled with hopes and dreams.
I relapsed and you filled my veins
Full of your darkness.
5 notes
·
View notes
Photo
89K notes
·
View notes
Text
Clarice Lispector, from "As Fast As I Can Type", Too Much of Life: The Complete Crônicas (tr. by Margaret Jull Costa and Robin Patterson)
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
“The winter though it darkens me, it is pure and clean and all I want.”
// Laura Marling, Darkness Descends.
447 notes
·
View notes
Text
// Nitya prakash
// Richard siken, Crush [parallels]
1K notes
·
View notes
Photo
96K notes
·
View notes
Text
At a young age, I learned to never trust a man.
The loud ones, the liars.
The gaslighters and manipulators.
Before a boy ever broke my heart, my father did.
Picking the bottle and pills over his daughters.
Coming in and out of life like a bad habit.
Almost 30 years later, a handful of heartbreaks.
You taught me the best.
0 notes
Text
It wasn’t when my childhood dog died
Or when my father left us
Or how the first boy I loved didn’t love me back
It wasn’t when my cousin tried to end his life
Or when I couldn’t share my sad thoughts cause he already did and my family couldn’t take much more.
It was when you first kissed me
That I realized how cruel the world really is.
How could the universe give me something so wonderful, so gentle and loving
Just to take it away when life expires
4 notes
·
View notes