What I shouldnt tell you.

Madison. majors: Forensic Science and criminal justice. Im to young to be as unhappy as I am.

“It’s the way she closes the door to her life that makes me all the more wish to enter it, to break down all her walls. I need her voice to wake me up every morning. She is all darkness, she says, and that was when I figured I’ve gotten tired of light. She is not everything. I know it. But she’s definitely something, and that’s what matters. She matters. I know she will never believe me when I tell her that, but I hope she knows that she’s everything that I call “love.” This is insane, I am insane. I never would have believed someone so wounded and bruised and fragile could be the very center of my whole universe, the only thing I will ever want my world to revolve around. My insanity has left me, but I am not alone. My insanity has left me, and I’m not sure I still want it to come running back.”

—   she [i], inklustt (via inklustt)


“I’m not totally mad at you. I’m just sad. You’re all locked up in that little world of yours, and when I try knocking on the door, you just sort of look up for a second and go right back inside.”

—   Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood (via 13neighbors)

(via inklustt)

Women like me do not fall gracefully,
we stumble over our spines, trip over
our vowels, and collapse into your arms.

Our hearts are open books,
Russian novels containing fifty pages
on the way your voice drifts across
the telephone wires each night.
Our hearts are first drafts,
unedited verses about each and every
person we have ever loved: the stranger
on the subway, the girl who gave us a balloon,
the boy who stole our virginity
but not our heart.

Women like me will love you from a distance
of a thousand syllables while laying in your bed,
we will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible,
and when we leave you will finally understand
why storms are named after people.

“everyone busied themselves
in searching for
beautiful things
while she was so intent on
finding beauty in

—   she [vi], inklustt (via inklustt)

I’ll give you the moon and the stars.


I’ll give you the moon and the stars.

(Source: happiness-comes-in-a-box, via 0riginal)


this is how I would doctor

(Source: sandandglass, via fapulos)

“I’m breaking my bones
to fit into places I’ve
already outgrown.”

—   Kayla Hollatz, Overgrown [a haiku] (via thetalltwig)

(via thewriternetwork)

You gave me empty words
and I filled them with meanings and
made up an entirely alternate make-believe story
out of an embittering reality and I got crushed,
first when my fallacies collapsed
and then when I worried too much about you leaving
that I didn’t notice you already did.

by giving too much attention to what is false
and less to what is true—
this is how I lost you.

—   This is how I lost you; Alahna Sy (via fauxpoet)

(Source: paperknees, via thewriternetwork)

“Home is in my hair, my lips, my arms, my thighs, my feet and my hands. I am my own home. And when I wake up crying in the morning, thinking of how lonely I am, I pinch my skin, tug at my hair, remind myself that I am alive. Remind myself to step outside and greet the morning. Remind myself that it’s all about forward motion. It’s all about change. It’s all about that elusive state.