im so miserable but i laugh at everything


Join me in my quiet castle; where I tamper with perfection and stack your feather-light whispers between the bricks that make our walls.

Marylin Monroe

SHHHHHHHH | via Tumblr a We Heart It-on -

Mix (Explore #235 - 15.11.2013) by Mathijs Delva on Flickr.

Marilyn behind the scenes of Love Nest in 1951.

so these antidepressants right,

the dosage increase has helped, in the sense that I can be bothered with life now, like I can physically get out of bed and do my hair, you know, all the normal stuff that you’re already meant to do. On the down side, its weird because this increase in energy to not be a slug in bed means that I have more motivation and a desire to cut… I’ve been clean for 3 weeks and never have I felt an urge this strong to just slice my arm into a million separate fragments, sort of like when you blow on a dandelion and all the little grey hairs fly their separate way. Bit absurd really.

Anonymous asked:
just want to let you know that you are very great at poetry and you have a huge talent.

I love how observant you are because my poetry is rarely something that’s encouraged, so when someone does praise me for it, it motivates me to write more and better. So thanks :)


on the road to Torres del Paine by Charlie Xia on Flickr.
"Maybe it isn’t about having all the answers. When
things get hard, maybe we aren’t being patronized–
maybe sometimes we just need to be told to remember
to slow down. So step in the dew of the morning grass
with bare feet and remember what it’s like to feel something.
Sip on your coffee with a little too much sugar, and forgive
yourself. Be late to a meeting without speeding, and
forgive yourself. Maybe we’re twenty something and our
hearts falter when you ask us about where we’re going. Maybe
we’re twenty something and our hands shake when you ask
us about who we’re loving. Maybe none of ‘what matters,’
matters. The tests we failed and the boys and girls that never
liked us back, the jobs we won’t get and the boys and girls who
will never like us back; the bad drivers, the bullies, the broken
faucets and pens with fading ink, the gendered magazines and
the bank account decorated with $24.56. What about us?
What about new freckles and shy smiles? Cats stretching off beds
and fresh rain in April? When did we forget to love everything?
When did we forget to love ourselves? Because just maybe it’s
about this. Just maybe, it’s about now. What about now?"
just maybe we’re straining in all the wrong directions,
valentina thompson (via theseoverusedwords)