Scattered

Afflictions and feelings, happiness and such. Female. Always searching, always finding, always writing.

Some Things You Need to Know in Order to Forgive Yourself

writingsforwinter:

  1. Most pain is only temporary, but other kinds of pain rise and spread like yeast into something too dense for any stomach to handle. The seeds of pain are the seeds we sow with our own hands- when we view our bodies as mistakes or as places to carve map lines into without having a clue about the…

HIGH SCHOOL



This is how to run a stick of Chapstick
down the black boxes on your scantron
so the grading machine skips the wrong
answers. This is how to honor roll. Hell,
this is how to National Honor Society.
This is being voted “Most Likely to Marry
for Money” or “Talks the Most, Says the
Least” for senior superlatives. This is
stepping around the kids having panic
attacks in the hallway. This is being the
kid having a panic attack in the hallway.
This is making the A with purple moons
stamped under both eyes. We had to try.
This is telling the ACT supervisor you have
ADHD to get extra time. Today, the average
high school student has the same anxiety
levels as the average 1950’s psychiatric
patient. We know the Pythagorean theorem
by heart, but short-circuit when asked
“How are you?” We don’t know. We don’t
know. That wasn’t on the study guide.
We usually know the answer, but rarely
know ourselves.

—   HIGH SCHOOL By Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)

(via writingsforwinter)

“The finale of trees
is not the end of us, but escapes
with us, makes people out of us.
The souls is not a particle.”

—   Sara Nicholson (via uutpoetry)
tylerknott:


Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #755 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I want this. I want that. I want photos of us. I want to be proud of us out loud. I want to kiss you. I want to smile and laugh. I want to make you giggle and I want to make you sigh and I want to take your breath away and I want to dance with you at people’s weddings and I want to pick you up and carry you when your feet are tired and I want to wait until you are Almost asleep and then kiss your nose and make you laugh so hard with some secret joke that your belly hurts and you smack me for waking you all the way up so we have to get out of bed and sit and watch the city lights while eating a bowl of cereal at 1:38 am. I want to smell you fresh from a shower and paint your toenails and take you to baseball games and teach you hidden things that are going on that most people don’t know. I want us. I want the smell of pancakes when it’s me that cooks them and the sun hasn’t yet woken.  I want the smell of dinner when it’s us that burned it because we fell to the floor and made love instead.  I want the handprints on car windows, steamed up from the inside.  I want long baths followed by short showers and the scent of your shampoo staining my hands for the entire day to follow.  I want ears that hear the words I spill instead of eyes that read them.  I want notebooks black with ink from all the details I noticed from all the times I sat and marveled at the way you spin through an hour.

gnarly:

circumcising:

what did people even wear in 2008

apple bottom jeans and boots with the fur 

(via sadgrrrl)

“Take a shower,
Wash away the bad thoughts,
Cleanse your body,
Put on some relaxing music,
Get in to bed,
Breathe.”

—   You’ll be okay (via bey-ond-repair)

(Source: insanihty, via sadgrrrl)

lullabysounds:

i’m really good at spending money and hating myself 

(via sadgrrrl)

theparisreview:

“That summer things seemed possible that I hadn’t allowed myself to contemplate for a long time.”
Ruth Curry on our friends from way back.

theparisreview:

“That summer things seemed possible that I hadn’t allowed myself to contemplate for a long time.”

Ruth Curry on our friends from way back.