Saturday, January 25, 2014
I don't mind you read my stuff..
I don't mind you read my stuff.. i don't have shame to admit that you still have the body that i desire and the affections that i dream every night... I'm still completely in love with your eyes... with your way to talk and gestures... for the way you involve me and make me give up from all the things that i'm attracted for... don't try to understand what i write.. you'll never make it... I think you're afraid.. i don't. I Lost it.
I make mistakes, i do it before and i'll continue to make them. That's my verb. That's me...and isn't what's left... is what's to come...
Don't have pity...i don't care.. not with your pity.
I'm in love for my insanity.. and she returns.
I'm a sad song you'll never forget... the lucky for your egocentrism and the vanity for your claim.in the end... you think in me as only a loser... i'm not here to try to convince anybody of the opposite. I'm going to sleep with you as i do every nights.. and i wish i could find you some day by my side...
I make mistakes, i do it before and i'll continue to make them. That's my verb. That's me...and isn't what's left... is what's to come...
Don't have pity...i don't care.. not with your pity.
I'm in love for my insanity.. and she returns.
I'm a sad song you'll never forget... the lucky for your egocentrism and the vanity for your claim.in the end... you think in me as only a loser... i'm not here to try to convince anybody of the opposite. I'm going to sleep with you as i do every nights.. and i wish i could find you some day by my side...
― Franz Kafka
The Metamorphosis
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand
what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand
what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”
— Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing
“'Do you ever feel that way?'
‘Lonely?’
I search for the words. ‘Restless. As if you haven’t really met yourself yet. As is you’d passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - ‘Ah! There I Am! I’ve been missing that piece!’ But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it.’”
— Kelsey Danielle, “I Was Told to Write an About Me and This is What Happened”
“Each time I’m asked to tell about myself, I find myself starting the same way: “My name is Kelsey and I’m nineteen..”
but what I’d really like to say is: “My name means island of the ships but once I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck- not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”
I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s. They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.
The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left? Conversation over.
The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?
The adults are a spew of questions. What school do you go to? What classes are you taking? What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
No, stop.
People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know, done it?
I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2 my goals at a stop light at traffic hour, my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?
Where’s the chance to say, “I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets, and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down so I can swim with the stars. I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it. It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome. I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years, each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”
No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.”
but what I’d really like to say is: “My name means island of the ships but once I found a translation that said I’m a burning shipwreck- not a burning ship but a ship that has caught fire after the wreckage and well, I’d say that’s more fitting.”
I’ve learned that people don’t have time for about me’s. They need two things: a name and an indication you’re someone special.
The doctors, they want facts not details.
“I broke my leg when I was three, it’s a funny story actually-“
The right or the left? Conversation over.
The teachers, they want interests, hobbies.
You’re sad, yes, but what do you like to do?
The adults are a spew of questions. What school do you go to? What classes are you taking? What do you plan on becoming? Got a boyfriend?
No, stop.
People my own age are the worst.
“I’m planning on an English degree with a concentration in creative writing.”
Yeah, aren’t we all. So how many times have you, you know, done it?
I’m pulled apart, my interests travelling highway 2 my goals at a stop light at traffic hour, my medical history on a billboard for the world to see.
But what about me?
Where’s the chance to say, “I hang on to fistfuls of poetry like loose change in my pockets, and I keep waiting for the day that the world turns upside down so I can swim with the stars. I’m not afraid of darkness, it’s a loneliness I can empathize with it. It’s the blackholes like cigarette burns inside of me that get troublesome. I walk through graveyards and read the dashes between years, each a story I’ll never know. Sometimes I create my own.”
No wonder none of us know who we are anymore.”
Why Rejection Is Good
There’s no doubt that rejection is painful. Whether it’s from someone you like and are asking out, or a job you really wanted, rejection is a tough pill to swallow. Unfortunately it’s a necessary part of life, but the good news is that rejection can actually be a good thing. Even though it won’t feel like it at the time, there is lots of good that can come from rejection. Here are just some of the ways that rejection can be a good thing:
It builds character. Someone who’s had everything handed to them on a silver platter just isn’t as interesting as someone who’s had to work hard for where they are in life. The most inspirational stories are those of people who have been down and out and rejected time and time again before finally finding success. So while rejection stings at first, try to think of it as one more interesting thing about you, or one more way that you’re growing as a person.
Got a message:
My best friend and I, our souls are intertwined. We are soul mates in a way beyond which any words can fully express. When I’m with him, all is right. I seek him out when I’m sad, happy, angry, excited, or anything else. He is always there to be my shoulder to cry on and my hand to hold. I know we’re going to get married one day because love, well, it can’t get any better than this.
Got another email:
Have you ever seen something so beautiful and perfect that you just want to destroy it? Blast footsteps through perfect white snow, rip petals from a full blooded rose or sink blunt stubby fingertips through the delicately taunt skin of ripe fruit and into its swollen oozing heart? Have you ever seen something so magnificent and hideously perfect that something inside you thirsts for its life’s blood and seeps tension into your veins that tightens every muscle as a hunter locked in the moment of immortal, aggressive silence before the final strike? Do you understand now just how I felt when your eyes met mine? Your horrifically, hideously, beautiful eyes.
your only reason for living
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)