I'm a little lady, with a soul saturated in love and dampened by hate. I eat only the flora of the earth and have an insurmountable adoration for my nonhuman friends. I nurse the sick and the old overnight, then spend my waking hours of the day trying to find adventure, seeking always the hidden and the mystical. I have a capricious, wandering spirit... who knows where or what I'll be, even a week, or a day from now.
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Ask me anything
Girl, Interrupted
Feeling quite taken aback, then. The world lost a little of it’s glitter, I began to grow anxious and bitter. I wasn’t quite twenty, and I’d tasted the sour discourse of a terrible first love — I played the damsel so damn well — to little avail. Through writing of this terrible time, I attracted the attention of the next one who would break my heart. He was gentle and tender, intended to be my heart’s mender. He kissed my face and held me through the nights, in the beginning. A beginning that hastily turned towards the end. I continued my damsel act and it sent him running north. I learnt a different kind of heart ache, that of loss, knowing that once he dreamed of a future with me too, but it faded as I cried the nights all through — for reasons I still have no answer for. Drugs took hold in this time, I used them to escape the horrors of the present and instead they sent me hurtling back into the past with no mercy. A dark creature began to grow between my shoulders and beneath my breast and I’ve been fighting him ever since, but he’s not real, oh but he’ll eradicate all that is.
10:24 am • 22 May 2013
We all have a first love and usually, it is a case of the first is the worst. I remember my first taste of it, the very first time I saw him, I could barely arrange a sentence - oh god, his eyes had me and he was taller than me, with dark hair… and he had that tooth. That one he’d had knocked out in a hardcore music fight pit, it was attached to his gums with a wire. Despite this slight blemish, and at the time, I thought it to be so masculine, he was a roman god. And I would treat him like one. I adorned him with gifts and told him my secrets, letting him take a special place is my budding, unripe heart. I was Cinderella and he was Prince Charming! Oh, I would die without his love! In retrospect, I can see all the childhood stories I loved, taint my expectations of falling in love and I played a damn good damsel. For 5 years, my life revolved around this boy, thinking perhaps, that he could not deny my love when he’d seen how much it endured. Subsequently, after 5 years, it all boiled down to nothing, and the only thing I made sure of was that I hurt him, just once. And I did, but it only made him hate me. After all he did, I stayed and yet when I stepped wrong once, he left.
5:19 pm • 15 May 2013 • 1 note
“I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. I cannot be tossed about, or float gently, or mix with other people.”
— Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via ifveniceissinking)
(Source: Ifveniceissinking, via good-morning-scarecrow)
3:20 pm • 12 May 2013 • 27 notes
“You practice a false goodness. You make yourself look good, kind. You force yourself to be generous, forgiving. You suppress your jealousies and your angers, turn them against yourself. You show great self-control over them. You must express them, get rid of them, and then find another way to rid yourself of them, but not by repression. For a time, for the present at least, screw repression; act as angrily or vengefully as you wish to.”
— Gertrude Stein, Complete Writings (via violentwavesofemotion)
(via aureate-soul)
5:13 pm • 11 May 2013 • 554 notes
apoetreflects:
“We do not escape into philosophy, psychology, and art—we go there to restore our shattered selves into whole ones.”
—Anaïs Nin, from In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays (Mariner Books, 1976)
(via aureate-soul)
5:11 pm • 11 May 2013 • 290 notes
“What if I told you I’m incapable of tolerating my own heart?”
— Virginia Woolf, from Night and Day (Duckworth, 1919)
(Source: seabois, via aureate-soul)
5:10 pm • 11 May 2013 • 2,114 notes
“Confidence is being able to say ‘Fuck you, I’m the shit’ without opening your mouth, say it with your walk, with your smile, say it with your entire being.”
— Tati-Ana Mercedes (via lusteens)
(Source: werew01ves, via constantstateofapathy)
9:43 am • 11 May 2013 • 47,569 notes
“Death is a cessation from the impression of the senses, the tyranny of the passions, the errors of the mind, and the servitude of the body.”
— from the Sixth Book of “Meditations” by Marcus Aurelius (via mertseger)
(Source: theogonic-symphonic-tragedy, via mertseger)
9:39 am • 11 May 2013 • 27 notes