You’re always looking back. You have to make sure this life was real.
Posted on September/22/2013
, #drive home
, #long way home
(Source: youaintnofamily, via pizzaorwifi)
Posted on May/20/2013
with 292,748 notes
, #we all die
Tumblr is so inspirational. I get on and I scroll through the simplest things that mean so much and it makes me want to be a part of it all. I want to make art or take pictures or do something great and then write about it. But then here I am, sitting in the break room at work. Seeing beautiful things through the little screen on my phone. I turn my head and see the tinted windows to my right, looking down on the sales floor where I will be walking in 30 minutes. I’ll walk them for 8 hours of this day, counting the minutes and seconds that I have to be here, to make the money that pays a bill or a loaf of bread. I’ll spend an hour back up in this break room later on, to chew mindlessly the food my boyfriend and I cooked the night before. He’ll look at me and smile. And yet the knot in my stomach will grow with every ticking of the clock. Back on the floor. Walk a customer to their item. Be nice be nice. Even when they are never nice back. We will go home at the end of the day. We will forget to lock the car or the front door before we turn in for the night, sinking restlessly into the bed covers. I’ll have another dream about my brother committing murder over and over again. I will wake up the next day, feel the stress of the previous day still weighing on my stiff shoulders. But it’s never a particularly hard day, not a difficult day. Just a normal, do-your-part, kind of day. It isn’t all that bad. I’ll continue this life, because it’s comfortable. I’ll have kids in the next couple of years and then I’ll have a purpose. Right now I’m just paying rent.
Posted on April/24/2013
#Tagged: #morning thoughts
, #paying bills
I don’t recall ever feeling anything quite like this. I know people talk about getting that feeling, like something bad is gonna happen, but this thing that I feel is like… sensing the approaching doom of something. But it’s like it’s happening in multiple spots, to different people, gradually. We’re all part of it, playing it, and I can feel things gradually deteriorating in all directions, very slowly. But it’s started speeding up now. It’s building. It’s building and soon existence is going to peak and then I won’t know what anything is anymore. No one will. And it’s like watching a movie that you can’t pause or turn off. Everyone is continuing to draw closer to this inevitable disaster and they can’t see it or sense it. Tama can, though- my cat. Sometimes I can feel his anxiety, you know? Ever since we moved, I know he can feel that things aren’t right. There are disturbances in the world and the atmosphere; in the time and this dimension. And things are already bad, bad things happening, but they’re almost like shadows of what’s really to come. Like it’s saying, “No, I’m only getting started. We’re not finished yet,” and then comes the feeling of hopelessness, that anything and everything is out of my control. It will never get better. Bad things have moved in and they’re not leaving and soon they will start turning every good thing and every joyous feeling into little mushrooms of doubt and self-destruction that grow in the pits of our stomachs, eventually making their way into our minds… It’s just a real bad feeling, one that I fear I am cruelly being given as a glimpse into something none of us will ever know. If this is the ethereal, I don’t want any part of it.
Posted on January/28/2013
, #far away
, #giving up
I guess it’s probably true what people always say.
You don’t know what you have, until it’s dead and gone away.
You can keep your eyes closed and pretend the pain is fake,
But ignoring what you felt was your first and last mistake.
Soon, the clouds will clear and you might feel less alone.
But it’s a false sense of comfort when you’re staring at a stone.
The dread will set in and it will never leave again.
It replaces what you’ve lost: your lover, your best friend.
And even though I pray that I never feel such pain.
I know someday, somehow, everything will change.
You’ll leave my side for good and take my heart along, as well.
And even with your ghost, I’ll fall completely for your spell.
So each night my head lay down ‘side yours, I pray with all my might,
that each morning I awake and feel those arms still holding tight.
Posted on July/26/2012
with 1 note
#Tagged: #best friend
, #my love
"That’s poetry. I’m full of poetry now. Rot and poetry. Rotten poetry."
Ernest Hemingway in "The Snows of Kilimanjaro"
I finally understand what it means to love with a love that is more than love.
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee; -
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
She was a child and I was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea,
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee -
With a love that the winged seraphs of Heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud by night,
Chilling my Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,
Went envying her and me: -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud, chilling
And killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in Heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee: -
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the side of the sea.
Edgar Allan Poe
No matter how much I fool myself, it always ends the same.
I am not capable of participating in this true love game.