(Source: shield-of-an-oaken-branch, via thelesbrarian)

It seems that all we are living for are sweet memories. Living to make moments that we can flash before our eyes before the line falls flat.

In their eyes are shreds of a person they once knew. Reflections of past persons fluttering in the windless tunnel of their iris’, like star splattered flags on a mid-July afternoon.

That person they once knew is becoming more of a fantasy. Something created and conjured by the adolescent parts of their minds- a way to hold onto people in the same fashion that you did your childhood blanket.

What is rarely heard is the storyline of the fluttering shreds of people they hold hostage. How they suffocate under their own skin and how the mere midst of your presence can rip the oxygen from their lungs, leaving them as nothing but gasping guppies, rinsed and shore-washed. How they peel their skin at night. How the thoughts of their past exoskeletons committing fraud in the minds of their loved ones, claiming their name, wearing it as if it were their original layer, destroys them. These voiceless newcomers shake within their own skeleton cage. Fearful of moving and disturbing the sleeping sea of anyone that has ever shared a heart with them, fearful that somehow they will shatter the glass covered in plastic.

But these people that you have deemed as something below the realm of zero, will never rise to fulfill the expectations you have set and they are aware of that. Aware that they are unable to shift the perceptions stemming within the neurological garden so they ferment. They plant their bad taste, letting it make home in the village of your taste buds because they are smart. Smart enough to know that they will never salvage their flesh to those that have already locked the coffins.

syupon:

tamaraldbrennan:

Who are you

Whats your favorite color

Favorite ship

Favorite ice cream flavor

Do you have a cat

Thank

reblogging again bc I already got some from really cute people, but it makes me unreasonably happy to read these from you SO KEEP ON SENDING THEM

(Source: 314eater, via ianbrunner)

hurricane-emily:

jimgaffigan:

Ladies I hope getting your nails done feels good because not a single man notices you got them done.

maybe

just maybe

women do some things for themselves and not just for men

what a concept

(via thesilenttypewriter)

In the midst of your personal travesty, these people will find something priceless within you.

They will find characteristics that you have carefully hidden in shadow-filled corners for decades. They will find all that is hidden and they will share it.
Letting rain of light pour itself over the curvature of your bitterness, your impatience and your intolerance until the eyes of strangers are blinded by blinking black and blue dots. They will leave you baking beneath spectrums of light waves traveling through your negligence and your selfishness.

They will snip your tongue and rip the teeth from your contracting gums, leaving the language you cling to as nothing but an useless trivial sector of your mind. Robbing you of words that are armed and at your defense, they will exploit you for all that you are not.

No proper form of representation, you, mute and filled with the tunes of violent abuse, you will wonder how you deserve such treatment in your misery. And you will then wonder, how you could have fooled yourself so tactfully. How you managed to plant willow trees of selflessness and wisdom, tending to them until they had ripened and mushroomed their minds over your faults. You will wonder how you could live so long believing you were a saint, someone to idolize and idealize. You will wonder if in fact your ignorance is responsible for this misery. Ignorance, at root for all the misery.

Have you ever made a point to not go to a group gathering and you don’t text anyone about not going just to see if anyone will text you asking where you are? I do, and no one ever texts.