cal elizabeth // happyy

jillianfleck:

Bad Love Will Make a Museum of You by Jillian Fleck
I think I’m broken. No one stays.
-embarrassing revelations found in the corner of my journal // charlotte geier (via my-h-e-a-r-t-s-not-in-it)

(via my-h-e-a-r-t-s-not-in-it)

beyondstyx:

Vincent van Gogh, Kop van een skelet met brandende sigaret (Skull of a Skeleton with Burning Cigarette) ; 1886
discure:

fknq:

whenever the sky is pink i take 400 pics
insta | twitter
92g:

glow on.

At night,
when the party is over,
we stumble home like drunken toddlers
stopping for milkshakes on the way.

You say
that we should stop by my house
instead of parting. I do not know your middle name

but I agree anyway. I do not know the day
you were born, or how you like your coffee.
I do not know how your skin tastes,
but I am willing to learn.

And then,
it is small talk on the sidewalk,
touching on my porch steps,
short breaths,
slight death.

And then, it is my bed,
and in the dark I can pretend you are
someone you aren’t. It is wet. I am shaking
trying to feel something
beyond my body. I do not feel small here.

I feel fear. I feel limbs bent back
by childhood debt. Death trap.
I feel flesh, blurred breath,

I feel forcing myself to moan
when you touch my breasts.
My friends say that this is the best
it gets. I feel lips against hips
and broken wrists.

And it’s over.

I put a sweater on. I ask you to leave.
And now I am drunk,
and pleading with a god - I do not know
where you were born. I do not know
if you know that I am more than
a pretty face and small hands and a waste
of precious space. I do not know
if I will see you again, or if I want to.

The milkshake is a puddle on my floor.
I hear the door slam
and your car pull out of my driveway.
I am alone again,
worried you did not think I was slim
enough, worried I am not tough,
worrying I will never be touched tenderly
by another man.

I pull out strands of my hair.
I wonder what parts of me
you have taken.

-My Last 10 Kisses Have Felt The Same; Hannah Beth Ragland (via allmymetaphors)
If you can see a future without me and that doesn’t break your heart then we’re not doing what I thought we were doing here.
-That 70’s Show (via fearlessknightsandfairytales)

(Source: temperare-te, via fearlessknightsandfairytales)

fruitgod:

Glow x

dajo42:

laid is pronounced like paid but not said and said is pronounced like bread but not bead and bead is pronounced like lead but not lead

(via baileysays)

One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.
-

Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

(via twloha)

panicatthedanetrain:

"what would you do if your boyfriend cheated on you?"

image

(via onceandfutureloser)

lueurux:

following back similar blogs, just message me

oh-iknoww:

So much talk of depression today and no one knows a thing. I cried myself to sleep this evening.

I need someone to understand.

medschoolapplicant:

Today I’m wearing a nice dark shade of exhaustion under my eyes.

(via immiserate)

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