"I like my body
when it is with your body."
— e. e. cummings
speaking your name makes it all real and i feel weak by letting things spill out.
i don’t want to write about you because i’m fearful it will become tangible.
i want you kept inside my mind. but you may not be safe there.
"enormous pockets, heavy boots"
I only have six days of high school left and it’s intriguing and it also scares me to pieces. Failure doesn’t scare me, I’ve failed all my life and have learned to cope, re-evaluate, and aim and ignite to whatever battle that shot cannons heavy into my mind. This is nothing new and has helped with my slow growing process into a human of our culture, which is what happens when you’re seventeen; you see and live the culture of the world you admire and battle with. I’m in pieces because I’m fearful of failure that doesn’t lead me through the rivers, canals, and pathways that transport me to a state I can call, or society can call, success; the failure that builds, never endures or processes or breathes, but builds towers. I’m fearful of the way failure can creep up time after time and instead of steer the boat, it weighs down with regrets and the unfulfilled life I’ve chosen. How heavy can things become before they are ripped to shreds and float into the air like they never existed? How heavy can my boat get until I suffocate due to tied tongues, unworthy thoughts, and fear itself? How heavy can my mind become until it’s not mine anymore?
i have so many questions to ask
but i know that truth
will not be
who answers me back
"One must accept the fact that others don’t see what you do."
— Louise Bourgeois, Artist (via honeymooninthefridge)
"Somewhere deep down, in her labyrinth, her intricacy, the darkest part of her soul, she relished the mayhem.
She felt a sense of privilege for having such passion in her life.
He stirred her core.
The place she dared not enter.
The place she could not stir for herself.
But something wasn’t right.
His eyes were cold and dark.
His energy, unaffected.
He laughed at her and her antics, told her she was a mess.
Frantic, she looked for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, in his stance, and she found nothing but disdain.
And her heart stopped."
— G.G Renee Hill, The Beautiful Disruption