You know that a good, long session of weeping can often make you feel better, even if your circumstances have not changed one bit.
(Source: nuaira, via forever-and-alwayss)
The Writer's Corner
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Isn’t it odd how much fatter a book gets when you’ve read it several times? As if something were left between the pages every time you read it. Feelings, thoughts, sounds, smells, and then, when you look at the book again many years later, you find yourself there, too, a slightly younger self, slightly different, as if the book had preserved you like a pressed flower, both strange and familiar.
(Source: adessive, via g0thika-deactivated20120106-dea)
Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn’t it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life…You give them a piece of you. They didn’t ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn’t your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like ‘maybe we should be just friends’ turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It’s a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.
It was a crippling thing, this sensation that a huge hole
had been punched through my chest, excising my most
vital organs and leaving ragged, unhealed gashes around
the edges that continued to throb and bleed
despite the passage of time. And yet, I found I could survive.
I was alert, I felt the pain but it was manageable.
I could live through it.
It didn’t feel like the pain had weakened over time,
rather that I’d grown strong enough to bear it.
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Long Live: Stars
There are stars on the ceiling,
There are scars on my heart
The sky is in tact,
But I’m falling apart
The night, it does whisper
The day, it is long
Angels are singing,
But I can’t hear the song
Your words are a burden
Your touch is still here
The devil is coming
But I have no fear
…
(Source: sydneyylovee)
Our Twisted Renaissance: Identity
People used to call me smart
and while that’s nice
I didn’t want to just be
known as smart.
In middle school I was known
as the quiet girl
but I didn’t like that either
so I became loud.
For most of sixth grade
I went by Bertha,
I know, it’s a long story,
but even then people only knew
my…
Excuse me for my disposition,
I find it very hard to listen.
Torn down through this done division,
you crossed the line of no admission.
Dirty antics shine and glisten:
“Fancy me, now?” Know. That what has risen
is the prior, longed for, former vision
of all that I used to know,
All that was thought of so thorough
has come to join you in the show
To steal what belonged to the stage,
age, and other fits of rage.
Reading’s done so turn the page.
- Natalie Scavuzzo
Our Twisted Renaissance: Sentiment
I haven’t slept in six days,
I haven’t eaten in four,
My voice is gone,
Yet I still shout,
My feet bleed,
Yet I still run.
I want to burst into a thousand tears,
Yet I smile from ear to ear,
I want to be comatose,
But then instead,
I laugh.
I sit here with eyelids of lead,
…
My boyfriend and I have been going through a rough patch.
So, I had a great idea today! I’m going to write him a letter everyday until Valentine’s Day. About why I love him. Day to day thoughts. The way I feel after dates. Any and everything. Then on, obviously, Valentine’s Day, I will give them all to him. We have this thing where we don’t like to buy each other Valentine’s gifts. We just give love. So, this is so exciting for me.
I was so relieved to have a writing assignment in English class today.
FINALLY! Something I’m REALLY good at! I’ve been writing for almost an hour now, and it’s just flowing. This is the best feeling in the world. I loved being reminded of why I’m passionate about writing.
She kept her son indoors most days
And no one understood why
This brave little boy
Could not go outside
Because when a bird flies,
It doesn’t know its flying
It’s just doing what it has always done
When we try to fly, we aren’t even trying
Because we know we will fail
Yes, a flying bird is like a dreaming child
Because when a child dreams,
It doesn’t know it’s dreaming
A child knows not of failure
Some thought the mother was cruel
But she always believed in him
(Source: sydneyylovee)
I don’t get you.
I want to tell you so much that I am in love with you. I want to tell you that I miss you. I want to tell you that sometimes I doubt your feelings for me. I don’t know how you really feel about me. I tell you I love you and I hardly ever get any sort of response out of you. I love you so much but I don’t think you really feel the same. If you do I’d like to know. I feel like I but 150% into this relationship and you only give 50%. I feel like you still see us as little more than friends. There’s something missing. I think about you all the time. My heart aches to be in your arms, but if I tell you that, I feel like it makes you uncomfortable, as if you don’t want to know that I love you. As if you don’t love me back. It hurts me. I want to make you feel the way you make me feel. Because when I’m with you I feel like I’m flying. But your feet never seem to leave the ground.
