vicarctic

[vicarctic]

do not be afraid to care deeply

[vicarctic]

near-life experience

[vicarctic]

i was so fucking sad when i was 14 and now when i fold my laundry or see a pool of moonlight on the floor of my bedroom i know that miracles exist. i see love in everything. love sees everything in me too

[vicarctic]

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller, d. March 9, 1932, from A Literate Passion: Letters of Anaïs Nin & Henry Miller, 1932-1953

[vicarctic]

Fernando Pessoa from The Book of Disquiet (1982)

[vicarctic]

[vicarctic]

Cowboy break up letter

[vicarctic]

lived my whole life in guilt bc i thought i was responsible for people's feelings. newly realizing that other people are responsible for their feelings and reactions, even if they make it seem like i'm the problem. a lot of the time it really has to do w them and their own emotional regulation. i can't keep thinking i'm not allowed to have space bc of other people's insecurities. like i literally refuse to dim myself. other people are responsible for their feelings just as i'm responsible for mine.

[vicarctic]

[vicarctic]

This was never meant to happen //                  I love you, I’m trying

I’m feeling small, looking up at you, fail to find a connection. 

“I gave every part of me to you. Wasn’t that enough?” 

Quiet. 

More quiet.  Your muffled footsteps on the carpet.  I stand with my back against the wall, too afraid to look away.

Don’t you feel how proud I am to love you? To have had you by my side.

Don’t you remember how this was never supposed to change?

You step, step, turn, look at me – you have your mothers’ eyes, - the same cold stare that pierces right through you.  You say: “You’ve always been more than enough.”

Maybe I made you someone you weren’t supposed to be. Maybe I stuck around for too long. We’ve spent years in the same small room and there’s nothing left to say now. My feet hurt from tiptoeing around all our broken pieces. 

“What was I to you then?” I ask.

“Too much.” Your voice is barely a whisper and in that lays the truth. You don’t want to hurt me but this time you have to. “You were way too fucking much.”  Neither of us say this was my fault, some things happen and, in this case, it all just became too complicated. 

You’re right. That’s the stupid part. You always are.

We dance around the truth, I hold my breath until I can’t anymore –

Laughter escapes my lips, the sound swallows us, til it’s not laughter but shame filling the room until everything turns red, all candles have stopped burning. I don’t think there’s any hope for us left.

It is fine. I’m tired of opening myself up. Have tried all the ways I’ve ever learned to communicate. I don’t know what to do anymore. You’ve faced all my demons but are still too afraid to look in the mirror.

You say nothing.

Your silence will always be the thing that haunts me the most.

I stand in the doorway on my way out, you accuse me of leaving, of giving you no chance and I know what you mean but I’m tired of being the monster. Of being the damaged one.

I’m done only ever blaming myself.

At home, I see pictures of your life, hear stories about places you’ve been to. People ask me about you and I can’t tell them how you are. We’ve spoken, sure. But I never see you these days. There’s this vacant space behind your eyes and I’ve grown so tired of looking at the nothingness you’ve created.

I’m tired of trying to find you in the places where we would once meet each other. 

I’m tired of trying.

Tired of reaching out just to come back empty handed.

You make promises but never keep them. 

I love you. 

I can feel my heart breaking a little each time I think about you but lately this has just been hurting too much.

[vicarctic]

Caitlyn Siehl, What We Buried; from "A Letter To Love"

[vicarctic]

my advice for not going insane? try to do something every weekend. go to events, you’ll love events. and not like just hang out with ur friends or go clubbing , no, make a day out of going to some local market by yourself or attend some strange convention event you’ve never heard of. i cannot stress the importance of doing random events on a friday night or saturday or a sunday at r pm for mentally ill people especially if you’re depressed and have been searching for an anchor 2 tether yourself to. attend some events now

[vicarctic]

that comment about how you should not borrow grief from the future has saved me multiple times from spiraling into an inescapable state of anxiety. like every time i find myself thinking about how something in the future could go wrong i remember that comment and i think to myself: well i never know, it might get better. it might not even happen the way i think it will and if it does happen and it is sad and bad ill be sad about it then, when it happens. and it’s somehow soo freeing

[vicarctic]

thinking about this

[vicarctic]

This was never meant to happen //                  I love you, I’m trying

I’m feeling small, looking up at you, fail to find a connection. 

“I gave every part of me to you. Wasn’t that enough?” 

Quiet. 

More quiet.  Your muffled footsteps on the carpet.  I stand with my back against the wall, too afraid to look away.

Don’t you feel how proud I am to love you? To have had you by my side.

Don’t you remember how this was never supposed to change?

You step, step, turn, look at me – you have your mothers’ eyes, - the same cold stare that pierces right through you.  You say: “You’ve always been more than enough.”

Maybe I made you someone you weren’t supposed to be. Maybe I stuck around for too long. We’ve spent years in the same small room and there’s nothing left to say now. My feet hurt from tiptoeing around all our broken pieces. 

“What was I to you then?” I ask.

“Too much.” Your voice is barely a whisper and in that lays the truth. You don’t want to hurt me but this time you have to. “You were way too fucking much.”  Neither of us say this was my fault, some things happen and, in this case, it all just became too complicated. 

You’re right. That’s the stupid part. You always are.

We dance around the truth, I hold my breath until I can’t anymore –

Laughter escapes my lips, the sound swallows us, til it’s not laughter but shame filling the room until everything turns red, all candles have stopped burning. I don’t think there’s any hope for us left.

It is fine. I’m tired of opening myself up. Have tried all the ways I’ve ever learned to communicate. I don’t know what to do anymore. You’ve faced all my demons but are still too afraid to look in the mirror.

You say nothing.

Your silence will always be the thing that haunts me the most.

I stand in the doorway on my way out, you accuse me of leaving, of giving you no chance and I know what you mean but I’m tired of being the monster. Of being the damaged one.

I’m done only ever blaming myself.

At home, I see pictures of your life, hear stories about places you’ve been to. People ask me about you and I can’t tell them how you are. We’ve spoken, sure. But I never see you these days. There’s this vacant space behind your eyes and I’ve grown so tired of looking at the nothingness you’ve created.

I’m tired of trying to find you in the places where we would once meet each other. 

I’m tired of trying.

Tired of reaching out just to come back empty handed.

You make promises but never keep them. 

I love you. 

I can feel my heart breaking a little each time I think about you but lately this has just been hurting too much.

[vicarctic]

i like to pretend i already died and asked god to send me back to earth so i can swim in lakes again and see mountains and get my heart broken and love my friends and cry so hard in the bathroom and go grocery shopping 1,000 more times. and that i promised i would never forget the miracle of being here

[vicarctic]