I’m not mysterious and quiet I’m just iron deficient
(via slugmother)
Physically I’m here, but mentally I’m in a small classroom at a liberal arts college in Vermont maybe in the ‘80s studying Classics and toasting to living forever
(via slugmother)
it’s january again, which means all around the world, a thousand shirts are being tucked in, and somewhere else, in a remote unnamed place, a clock shifts closer to midnight than ever before. i miss being 12, the pitfalls back then only felt like missing a step on your way down underground, and i suppose that’s better than feeling like an old song on the radio nobody can remember, that stilted, dreamless echo of notions long discarded. we used to swallow crayons back then because we wanted to touch the colours & our world was turning into an old newspaper clipping from 1949—so when the boy told me he loved me, i gave him a candy ring since that was the largest form of worship i knew. it’s january again & we’re all standing on our tip toes & mom’s pulling out the VHS tape from when you were a baby & the clouds heave with nostalgia & nothing feels any different but everything does
Did I Block Out These Details Because I’m Traumatised Or Did It Just Not Actually Happen: An Autobiography by me
you are not filled with stardust
or outer space
you’re filled with blood
and it’s spilling out onto the
floor
your insides are spilling out onto
the fucking floor
your first kiss and the time you
made your mother smile so hard
she cried and your 6th birthday
when you got every present you
wanted is dripping down
your arms and you’re coughing
up and spitting out every
memory that ever made your
laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe
and the time you held hands with
the boy you loved more than anything
in the world
and it’s all melting into the tiles in your
bathtub
those are not stars rushing out of your
skin
it’s you
and everything you are
by (via extrasad)
or outer space
you’re filled with blood
and it’s spilling out onto the
floor
your insides are spilling out onto
the fucking floor
your first kiss and the time you
made your mother smile so hard
she cried and your 6th birthday
when you got every present you
wanted is dripping down
your arms and you’re coughing
up and spitting out every
memory that ever made your
laugh so hard you couldn’t breathe
and the time you held hands with
the boy you loved more than anything
in the world
and it’s all melting into the tiles in your
bathtub
those are not stars rushing out of your
skin
it’s you
and everything you are
by (via extrasad)
(via extrasad)
Winnie the pooh aesthetic!!