#i can’t stop thinking about this poem

[outstanding-quotes]

Francesco Petrarch, Sonnet 190

[deanjohn]

Gleipnir, painting by Walton Ford | “Neurosis” from Grit, Silas Denver Melvin (insp)

[swampthingking]

i have this thought that andrew minyard would accidentally befriend a murder of crows if you even care

[sevyyi]

the longer we are apart, the clearer you are in my mind. i miss the fog filled forests i’d search through for you, and i miss the cloudless days i didn’t know you.

[itspileofgoodthings]

I love the rhyming on ttpd. can only think of two examples currently but I know there’s more.

[misoxmiireux]

R… A… why? just why?…

[featherlight-whispers]

early klance as wishbone by richard siken methinks

[beeffie69]

my roman empire is how girls on tiktok have such depressing roman empires.

“My Roman Empire is what would happen if I were prettier or skinnier” “My Roman Empire is my ex-best friend” “My Roman Empire is when my ex told me all guys watch yk because they need to ‘relieve’ themselves. And seeing their girlfriend is too repetitive and they need something new”

is the only thing we’re allowed to think about how we’re so sad all the time? our trauma? how society deems us as commodities or sexual objects?

is that the only thing we can think?

how come men get to sit on the toilet and get reminded how awesome them and their ancestors are by the plumbing they take advantage of, yet when we look around, we see nothing but sadness, think nothing but sadness.

my other roman empire is musicals and how a plot through music makes me feel so much more.

[annieroses-rant]

used to

used to guilt and shame

like needles in my veins

am I doomed to be mediocre at everything?

everyone thinks that I'm doing too much

but not trying hard enough

no one knows how hard

I chase the dopamine rush

everyone feeds me the same motifs

enough is enough

I can’t be strong like I used to

can’t not be wrong like I used to

I can’t work like I used to

hell, am I even useful?

if I’m not what I used to be,

will I then lose everything?

do I know the girl I used to be?

who is this new girl that I see?

you call her by my name

but we aren’t the same

cause she’s not what she used to be

she’s worse than geometry

why can’t I just live

up to what everyone thinks of me

just lock me away

leave me with my artistry

the only thing that improved

but you’d only find choreography

I’m the one who makes the days the same

though not how they used to be

so much on my back already

but what else do you want from me?

I’ll take the blame

shackles and chains

though I really need to be free

because that’s who I used to be

so please, please don’t give up on me

I can’t live as who I used to be

but I’m still trying though crying

still going and growing

I’m not sure if I’ll make it anymore

not sure if I can take this anymore

but if I can’t, what am I even here for?

just leave me with my tears

just shut the door

I’ll sit here with my fears and my heart still sore

I’ll look back on these years

when I am hurt and bored

and when no one seems to need me

not like they did before

do you even need who I used to be anymore?

[allcircuitsarebusy]

my empathy for animals and lil creatures is so overwhelming sometimes. i saved a brown recluse the other night because i couldn’t bare the thought of smushing him.

[crossbackpoke-check]

"This extra space next to me belongs to you. I know where I end now. I won't get lost." -- shoot me (metaphorically) and leave me for dead (metaphorically) why won't you. To make this about Dylan and maybe it's about Connor, maybe it's about Brinksy, maybe it's about any journeyman in the NHL. My brain screamed Chris Driedger and his memorable (to me) Players' Tribune article:

And how can you mention Dylan and Zach (Za-ach, the way Dylan says it) without me having a breakdown about them? You simply can't. And for the younger dudes, maybe it's a little Bords/Briss, not yet steady in The Show, a little bit of distance, a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately... and then a blurry insta story in Vegas. Just like old times but somewhere else. Maybe it's not the same bed, maybe it's not the same set of forks, but maybe it's the principle of the thing.

Anyway, goodbye. Sorry for this, your tag walls make me break out in imagined scenarios.

Much love. xxx

please never be sorry for sending me messages <3 i love reading them i love getting them i think they’re beautiful and i love them i’m!!!!! [🥹💕🦋🫧✨💘😭 <- the best approximation of what my heart is doing]

ok NOW i am taking this step by step because every narrative here kicked me straight in the knees (metaphorically) i am w e e p i n g (literally): i knew tangentially about chris driedger going to seattle but i had never read his players’ tribune love letter to seattle & all i can say is oh. oh. and with the part about trains delayed but still being right on time—

sometimes a dream is a truth your heart knows long before you do. the space that the city and the team made for him (“you’d be the only guy on the team”)🗣️🗣️🗣️ !!! but the way that chris talks about needing to put in the work & leo not letting him quit,,, that’s chris filling up the teakettle with twice as much water, crowding one side of the bed (falling asleep against a bus window dreaming), becoming unburdened by the idea of not being their guy, not having the fallback being their draft pick to content and settle himself with. that’s chris betting on a future. that’s the train coming down the tracks, right on time.

(i am feeling unhinged about it)

SECOND. i know i was the one that said zach and dylan to start so technically i brought this on myself but also i have been ktfo by the mere mention of the way that dylan says zach’s name different from everyone else, stealing an extra breath, stealing as much time as he can get with him, which reminded me of a poem i just read:

The Need Is So Great, Jim Moore

^^^dylan still in love with zach even as he’s leaving, can feel himself losing him, and taking every sliver of the love in his smile that he can get. even if he knows zach doesn’t still feel the same way he’s drawing out the long goodbye & saying i love you in a thousand ways without ever saying it out loud (“i have been asking for a time but in ways that have no words” because he doesn’t want to ask too much, to ask for love) in the hope that zach will say it back OKAY I’M LEAVING i can’t do this

that was a lie because THREE. “maybe it’s the principle of the thing” please insert the most ungodly screech how could you just (lovingly) come in straight with the steel chair and bean me upside the head with that l i n e i think this story has the potential for such tragedy in it but also the most tender domestic longing because bords & briss have known each other for a long time (i think) and guys do sometimes lose themselves when they first get to the nhl.

it’s a big scene, you’re with big name guys, you’re finally doing the thing you always dreamed about, you’re no longer necessarily the best because everyone’s the best, you’re not sure how you fit in, you can get lost in the glitz and the glamor of it but you can also literally get lost in it, the slog of the season and getting caught up and down between teams and leagues and endless airports and buses and travel and ice rinks, losing your phone (accidental) and having new people hound you for quotes and fame and connection so you lose your phone (on purpose) and i think where i’m trying to go is: this could play out as the tragedy of borde going to the california coastline and briss shipping off to the vegas strip and both of them getting a little lost.

maybe there’s someone else, maybe i am steadfastly not thinking about “a summer that tries to erase and make up all the memories they've made separately” as either a summer of them pretending things are ok after a year of barely speaking and now being completely different people they never were before OR a summer of them trying to pretend like they can forget about each other because maybe they didn’t think their relationship was the same thing, is all, when they were or weren’t together. maybe it’s nobody’s fault but for the fact that they were scared and tired and lonely trying to make it in the big times and didn’t know how to show it. and then borde shows up with takeout and plastic forks in vegas and it’s december and nothing like winter in ann arbor and still they fill up all the empty spaces in each other with the things they didn’t know they’d miss until they were gone and this is the real thing, not whatever they were trying too hard to be, to recreate their own nostalgia for the love in their memories. it’s the principle of the thing, is all, to always be true to the love they have right now & not what they think it should be.

sorry that i wrote you kind of an essay of an answer but i had so so so many thoughts because your ask was so lovely so thank you for sending it to me (you are always welcome to!! i love your imagined scenarios!!! cannot even explain how much!!!) & thank you for taking the time to read my walls of tags :))) <3

[grlsbible]

Everyday I wake up with a new hope for love.

I hope that a one tender kiss is not too much to ask for.

[ghoulishcreep]

.

[thenightwinggraveyard]

a woman’s destiny

my grandmother is sitting in front of me

my mother is in the other room, her voice travels through the corridors.

still i know, grandmother and i are alone.

her face is stoic and cold;

no longer a grandmother, but instead a mother.

i wonder why there is any difference at all.

“you hurt my mother.”

“i know”, she responds.

“she hurt me.”

“i know”, she echos.

“why?”

she scrutinizes me, before smiling without mirth.

“because my mother hurt me.”

and as she finishes speaking, her face blurs,

moments later i see centuries worth of women reflected back at me.

all daughters, all mothers, and all ruined the same for it.

“will i hurt my daughter too?”

i ask, my voice speaking alongside those very same women’s,

a cacophony of desperation.

the misfortune wrung mothers, and godforsaken daughters.

“of course,” grandmother whispers.

i stare into the reteched mirror that is girlhood and i wonder,

why is it a women’s destiny to be her mother?

- from a girl with anxiety

[nathan-thiry]

I did. Either in writing or saying it to you. You are still beautiful to me. I wish I could say it to you again. But, obviously my time has passed. Maybe one day you’ll see how much I cared for you. I’m human, we make mistakes and we learn and move on. I wish I was moving on with you instead of trying to forget you. But forgetting you is causing immense pain in my heart and soul. Maybe it’s because I can’t talk to you for the next two years. I can’t explain my side or hear your side. I just want to talk to you. I miss your voice. I miss your smile. I miss your touch. I miss all of you. I can’t even idolize anyone else the same way as I see you. I don’t think you realize how much I loved you. And still, for some reason, do love you. Did I mean something to you? You wanted to do this “life thing” with me, but now I got kicked to the curb and my heart stomped on. I hope you see this one day if you look at my profile. Take it for what it’s worth. My everything. I miss our life together.

[harmonizewithechoes]

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