“I love unmade beds. I love when people are drunk and crying and cannot be anything but honest in that moment. I love the look in people’s eyes when they realize they’re in love. I love the way people look when they first wake up and they’ve forgotten their surroundings. I love the gasp people take when their favorite character dies. I love when people close their eyes and drift to somewhere in the clouds. I fall in love with people and their honest moments all the time. I fall in love with their breakdowns and their smeared makeup and their daydreams. Honesty is just too beautiful to ever put into words.”—(via dapxs)
but they remember everything. They forget appointments and anniversaries, but remember what you wore, how you smelled, on your first date… They remember every story you’ve ever told them - like ever, but forget what you’ve just said. They don’t remember to water the plants or take out the trash, but they don’t forget how to make you laugh.
Writers are forgetful because they’re busy remembering the important things.
Unfortunately the majority of the time she’s covered in so much couture that she’s reduced to a publicity stunt.
She’s actually a great artist if you hear her perform alone with just a piano. And I love how supportive she is of the LGBT crowd. But in some ways I feel like she devalues her own fans and message by making them seem so strange and backwards compared to more mainstream tastes. She’s the immature high school mentality of saying, “oh you think I’m weird? I’ll show you exactly how weird I can be”.
I would like to see an older, more mature version of her as an artist. One where she isn’t so over the top, where she uses her real name, one where she delivers the same message, but in a way that’s more raw and real and relatable.
When I was 16, I met a girl. Like you, she was a lot of fun. She took me way out of my comfort zone and I did things I would never have done on my own. But at the time, I didn’t appreciate that. I come from a super conservative background. And she scared me a bit. It was too much, too fast. And I took it out on her. I was just like it sounds like he is to you. I made her feel bad about going out late. I complained about the people she hung out with. I wouldn’t touch her for a week when she got her first tattoo (It was small and it was cute). I tried to change her. And I just knew she would cheat on me with a certain guy friend (she did). I was selfish and I pushed her away. All the while, she was the one who had her life more together than I did. And so she left. And it was the best thing she could have done for me.
Because I, being who I am, had to think. For years. Break down every moment. Every fight. And understand. And now, several years later, look at how different I am! I am so much happier with myself. I’m getting my life together and I’m independent and I have goals and I’m not afraid to go out and enjoy my life at the same time. If she wouldn’t have dumped me, I would have never had so much fun hanging out with you.
So if you really think it’s not working out, dump him. He needs it. if you really think he’s worth it, wait around until he figures out what he screwed up.
“Maybe…you’ll fall in love with me all over again."
“Hell,” I said, “I love you enough now. What do you want to do? Ruin me?”
“Yes. I want to ruin you.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s what I want too.”—Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms (via eyewtkas)
“People say I love you all the time - when they say, ‘take an umbrella, it’s raining,’ or ‘hurry back,’ or even ‘watch out, you’ll break your neck.’ There are hundreds of ways of wording it - you just have to listen for it, my dear.”—The Curious Savage (John Patrick)
I want the unreachable. The unattainable. I want what I always dreamed of. I want the impossible. I want my fairy tale. I want to hurt for the right reasons. I want to love. I want to hate. I want to run and get everything that I ever wanted to. I don’t want to miss a second. I want to look into eyes directly and know everything will be fine. I want to be someone. I want to be everything to a someone. I want love. That’s all l I want. Love.
the worst thing about writing is that you aren’t just a writer. you have to be a thousand things. a poet, a flirt, a weapons expert, a bleeding heart, a scholar, a legendary cook, a theorist, an engineer, a reckless teenage girl, a dying god. you have to be able to write monologues and speeches and heartfelt confessions, and you have to make them believable. writing is putting yourself into someone else’s shoes.