:9

❤.

Forevermore.


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Posted 3 weeks ago

One starts…

…and the other worsens it. 

I hate this sentence and everything related to it. It keeps popping up in my life, in different situations, but it only brings one memory to surface.

The one I am proud to have, proud to show and tell everyone about. The one that fills my heart with the coziest feeling, the one that instantly brings a smile to my face, no matter where I am. The one that seconds after my initial reaction brings an excruciating feeling of emptiness, of confusion, of sorrow, of failure and of regret.

Feelings I have to let go of. The cozy one and the cold ones, because there isn’t one without the other.

I need someone to reset my brain, because constantly feeling mentally exhausted is taking a toll I cannot afford.

I wonder why and how everything happened, because it is all just a goddamned blur in my head. From the day my dad got sick until today. I wonder if there’s a greater purpose - one that I’m missing out on and that, when I find out about it will, make everything fall into place.


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Posted 3 weeks ago

Letting go is a bitch.

The mere thought of letting go freezes my bone marrow in its entirety. My heart beat races, chills run through my skin. And my brain goes through an exploding process. Images of pleasant situations regarding whatever it is that I have to let go of burn strongly in my mind. 

The stronger the resolution to let go, the stronger those images burn. 

You know when they say that when you’re about to die, your whole life flashes right before your eyes? Well, when I’m letting go, I’m killing my feelings of attachment towards the thing I have to let go of. And, right before my murderous act, all the memories related to the thing flash before my very eyes. 

It weakens me, it discourages me. I feel my fingers trembling, my hand’s gone cold. My mouth is dry. All I have is the certainty I felt moments ago that I have to let go. I can’t change my mind. I can’t trick myself into that, but, since nobody knows me better than I do, I’m quite good at fooling myself. 

Strength, where art thou.

I can’t fail. I must let go. One week ago is something that still is in the past. Just like one second ago. Whatever happened then, is not going to happen now neither later. 

Arms bruised from the tight squeeze of my fingers bracing myself, not collapsing is a challenge. The need to hold on is as strong as the need to let go. Holding on will be the only thing left, so, why, why must I let go? 

People say life’s a bitch. I say letting go is a bitch, and it makes life a bitch, because life without letting go would have no meaning - I’d not learn the importance of the thing without having to let go of it. It’d not sting. It’d not bother me enough to sit down and reminisce. Things would be taken for granted, and hell’d be set loose. 

At least in my mind, it would.


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Posted 3 weeks ago

I didn’t know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I’d cry for a week. I could feel the tears brimming and sloshing in me like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar  (via ughsick)

(Source: simply-quotes)

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6,870 notes   -   Posted 1 month ago

Depression does not always mean
Beautiful girls shattering at the wrists
A glorified, heroic battle for your sanity
Or mothers that never got the chance to say good-bye

Sometimes depression means
Not getting out of bed for three days
Because your feet refuse to believe
That they will not shatter upon impact with the floor

Sometimes depression means
That summoning the willpower
To go downstairs and do the laundry
Is the most impressive thing you accomplish that week

Sometimes depression means
Lying on the floor staring at the ceiling for hours
Because you cannot convince your body
That it is capable of movement

Sometimes depression means
Not being able to write for weeks
Because the only words you have to offer the world
Are trapped and drowning and I swear to God I’m trying

Sometimes depression means
That every single bone in your body aches
But you have to keep going through the motions
Because you are not allowed to call in to work depressed

Sometimes depression means
Ignoring every phone call for an entire month
Because yes, they have the right number
But you’re not the person they’re looking for, not anymore


by “Alexandra” Tilton, NH (Teen Ink: November 2013 Issue)

(Source: stellines)

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369,334 notes   -   Posted 1 month ago

Lately I’ve been reading about old and long-lost poets and artists. Writers and creators. I’ve been reading everything I can find about them; what they’ve said, what they wrote, what life taught them. I’m just thinking, it’s stupidity to go through life doing the same mistakes and spending a lifetime learning things, that other, wiser men already have gone through and learned from. And it’s true, I’ve got a lot of quetions answered by reading words from those people. I understand written words. They make sense to me. More than spoken ones.

After all, words have the ability to create their own world inside of my mind.

A less damaged world, where sadness is beautiful in that fragile way.


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Posted 1 month ago

I am afraid. Not of life, or death, or nothingness, but of wasting it as if I had never been.
Daniel Keyes, Flowers for Algernon (via halluzinogen)

(Source: quoted-books)

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5,349 notes   -   Posted 1 month ago

Words

I miss you.
I miss us.
I miss who I am when I’m with you.

I love you.
I love us.
I love who I am when I’m with you.

I wish I knew:
What can I do.
How could I do.
What can I say.
How to stop you from drifting away.

And I wish you knew it all, too.


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Posted 1 year ago

jamie-brooke:

I think about this all the time and it kind of freaks me out! It’s super intense and makes my story and life feel less important. There are an infinite number of stories and feelings all throughout the world.
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302,126 notes   -   Posted 1 year ago

  • me: why are those guys staring at me
  • me: is there something on my face
  • me: is there something on my shirt
  • me: they're probably laughing at how ugly i am
  • me: they probably find it amusing how fat i am
  • friend: maybe they think you're cute
  • me: are you retarded or something
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439,941 notes   -   Posted 1 year ago

“I waste at least an hour every day lying in bed. Then I waste time pacing. I waste time thinking. I waste time being quiet and not saying anything. I don’t know how I can be so ambitious and lazy at the same time.”

(Source: subliminaldreams)


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163 notes   -   Posted 1 year ago

This morning I thought about where I was last December, who I was last Christmas, and the more I thought about it the more I realized how important it is to sometimes stop and actually consider what a long way you’ve come. It’s so easy to let the weeks pass by one by one without realizing how much progress you’re actually doing. Therefore, I will try something new this week.

This week, instead of always striving to be someone better, be something more, I will consider what a long way I’ve come and what an amazing journey it’s been. Instead of seeing all my flaws when I look in the mirror, I will choose to see how this body got me from there to here, how it has survived more than I ever thought it could, and how it’s still fighting with me. Instead of being scared of saying something wrong or being misunderstood, I will speak straight from heart and hope that people will take me as I am, and if they don’t, I will try to not blame myself.

This week, instead of being ashamed of my weaknesses, I will choose to be proud of my strengths, and I suggest you do the same. After all, life is way too short to be anything but happy. Have a beautiful Monday creatures <3


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Posted 1 year ago

Im so destructive right now that I just threw my mobile on the wall and watched as it crashed and fell into pieces on the floor.

Wish I could do that to my own skull, while the ghost of me watched the scene.


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Posted 1 year ago

(‘:


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Posted 1 year ago

One week ‘til my dad’s birthday.

If he were alive, he would turn 50.

It’s been one year and seven months since he’s passed.

The memory of him, slowly fading. The sound of his footsteps downstairs, his voice calling out my name, the way I felt whenever he danced with me - slowly fading away. Fading into somewhere I can’t reach to pull it all back.

Dad, where are you? Are you watching over me? Can’t you see your daughter’s so full of unanswered questions, fears and doubts? 

I miss you so much. I feel like someone just grabbed my heart out with one’s bare hands. And mom feels so empty. She came to Brazil because of you, how dare you leave her so alone?

I miss you so much. I can’t believe I’ve just gone through more than a year without you. It feels like yesterday you were telling me to study more, but it feels so distant, too…

I miss you so much. Did you know your son is now living in Rio? It’s just mom and I now. It’s not easy. She misses you like hell. I can hear her crying in her bedroom every night. Then I cry, too. It’s a neverending pain, you know?

Our dog still goes outside at 8pm waiting for you to come back home from work. Every single day.

It gets worse and worse. I feel like I fell through some weird hole, like Alice’s, but I didn’t end up in Wonderland, I ended up in Nightmareland.

I just need your hug, your wisdom words and you to say that it will all be ok.

Please, dad. Come back.


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Posted 1 year ago

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