lots of people believe that time will heal all wounds 
but I don’t buy it 
because when someone blasts a hole in your life 
it tends to stay open 
even after the wound heals 
the surface will still remain tainted by scars 
that sink deeper 
than the feelings you hold inside 
and hey, i do believe in healing 
but losing someone 
or being hurt by another 
isn’t something you just move on from 
you just won’t be the same person that you were before 
so I think once something’s broken 
it won’t ever be fully healed 
it will be permanently damaged in some way

does time heal all wounds? comment your answer below. (via root-reboot)

When a person tells you that you hurt them, you don’t get to decide that you didn’t.

Louis C.K. (via thequotejournals)

Hold My Hand

Hold my hand today, A little tighter than yesterday. The sun is slowly hiding, Behind clouds that The newsman did not predict. And I am worried That it will rain. We will get caught in the downpour. As the carefully created House of sand and promises, Will wash away into the Ocean, with my words Whispered into the wind Picking up speed. Hold my hand a little tighter today.

Hold my hand today. In the middle of the market, More brazen than ever before. I have heard news Of people being jailed, For speaking the truth And standing up, For loves that they have. Lives they have lived. I want your conviction In the face of Such recrimination of our state. I want to remember resistance on your face. Hold my hand a little tighter today.

Hold my hand today. Before I ask you to. There are voices In my head that Refuse to go No matter how much I try. Voices, that know my darkness Better than you know my hope. I am choking on a creeper, That has nowhere to grow. Wrapping itself around my Neck, doesn’t let me breathe. When you see me tremble, Or bite back words, Hold my hand a little tighter today.

Hold my hand today. When you see my smiles, Before they turn To tears from places I have no memory of. And ask my eyes to Stop dreaming, stop Tasting this new feeling Of happiness and peace. Still unrecognizable, Gradually memorable. Without the tinge of nostalgia, That seeps through everything. Remind me of the calmness, Hold my hand a little tighter today. 

I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with. Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you. Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through. Tell me what the word home means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were eight. See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate, and if that day still trembles beneath your bones. Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow? And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms or would leave your snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree? And if you would, would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek? Do you kiss your friends on the cheek? Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad even if it makes your lover mad? Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain? See, I wanna know what you think of your first name, and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time. I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind. Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel. Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school. If you were walking by a chemical plant where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would you whisper “That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy!” Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin? Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea? And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me — how would you explain the miracle of my life to me? See, I wanna know if you believe in any god or if you believe in many gods or better yet what gods believe in you. And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you asked come true? And if they didn’t, did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who? I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good. I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad. I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass. If you ever reach enlightenment will you remember how to laugh? Have you ever been a song? Would you think less of me if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key? And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence. Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence? And if you do — I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living. I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving, and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes. I wanna know if you bleed sometimes from other people’s wounds, and if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon — that if you wanted to, you could pop, but you never would ‘cause you’d never want it to stop. If a tree fell in the forest and you were the only one there to hear — if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound, would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist, or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness? And lastly, let me ask you this: If you and I went for a walk and the entire walk, we didn’t talk — do you think eventually, we’d… kiss? No, wait. That’s asking too much — after all, this is only our first date.

Asking Too Much – Andrea Gibson (via root-reboot)

I am sick of everything - of feeling forever tired…

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals; p. 363 (via readingsylviaplath)

My condition is not unhappiness, but it is also not happiness, not indifference, not weakness, not fatigue, not another interest – so what is it then?

Franz Kafka, Diaries of Franz Kafka (via wordsnquotes)

Never Us

—Trigger Warning for Child Abuse— It never happens in our homes. Stories of broken trust, failed promises. Are not told in our families of safe people. Our homes do not carry the guilt, Of shame that comes years later. With an understanding of monsters,  They never understood till now.

It never happens to our kids. Sobs don’t threaten their sentences, uttered In fear, without complete knowledge, Of the wounds that will last a lifetime. Our parents do not pretend to unsee touches,  That we have learnt to protect ourselves from.  

It never happens to us. Memories do not flood us, in the Middle of conversations with loved ones. We do not wonder about  Consent and it’s meaning at an age, When we could not spell the word, forgetting to  Cry for help. Lost probably in confusion. 

It never happened to me. I don’t think of violation of my body. Before an age where I understood  Either violation. Or my rights to my body.  I don’t doubt my head on silent lonely nights. Questioning, every “Yes” I have said. After the first silent “No”. 

Sometimes we get sad about things and we don’t like to tell other people that we are sad about them. We like to keep it a secret. Or sometimes, we are sad but we really don’t know why we are sad, so we say we aren’t sad but we really are.

Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time (via wordsnquotes)

what the hell is tragedy? I am.

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals; p. 203 (via readingsylviaplath)

I won’t glorify or romanticize heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.

Warsan Shire (via thelovejournals)

I know it hurts now & maybe it always will ‘cause darling, you see the world with your heart; we crave continuations in italics temporarily housing characters we’ve exceeded in knowing, but turmoil is a captivity we’ll never tame. I can’t tell you how to get him, but I can show you how to miss him & love him forever; forgive me, I withdraw - it’s the only way I know

how to survive (via teacup13)

I know it hurts now & maybe it always will ‘cause darling, you see the world with your heart; we crave continuations in italics temporarily housing characters we’ve exceeded in knowing, but turmoil is a captivity we’ll never tame. I can’t tell you how to get him, but I can show you how to miss him & love him forever; forgive me, I withdraw - it’s the only way I know

how to survive (via teacup13)

I’m being tormented by demons that seem to represent misery, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot push their voices out of my head. They’re cemented inside and even when they break apart, they still remain. They had continuously haunted me at my every waking moment but as the time continued to fly by, they started to die out one by one. They were crying out for me, begging me to save them and I tried to stay strong, tried to let them go, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of the only thing forever in my life. We all see misery as an evil being, but even misery seeks company. Even misery wants to fulfill their loneliness…

littlemissimaginary (via theprocast)

Do we call it love? Beckon it forward with our wispy fingertips catching on to each other  not in a way that is forced but put together because of the nature of who we are? I do not know what I want to call this. Yesterday’s mistakes make me hesitant to put a name to such a beastly entity. But do I call you mine? Give possession a second glance, not in a way where we own each other but instead become founders  of a new beginning too brash and young and hopeful to remember that we have had burning cities in the past? I don’t want to hold you like a belonging a heart is too much responsibility for anyone if there is no cage to keep it in. But do we try again? Greet leaps of faith on our front doorsteps like old friends not in a way that reaches blindly but expectantly because we know there is a chance this won’t work out but there is enough here to want and to risk for someone who might be more permanent than our last? Perhaps it can be worth it.

A humble approach to someone new (via ink-trails)

If you were to press your heart close up against somebody else’s heart eventually your hearts will start beating at the same time. And two little babies in an incubator, their hearts will beat at the same time. Love that. So if you have somebody in your life that is prone to anxiety, like myself, and if you happen to be a calm person, you could come up and hug me heart to heart and my heart hopefully would slow to yours. And I just love that idea. Or maybe yours would speed up to mine. But either way, we’ll be there together.

Andrea Gibson (via lovelustquotes)

Maybe I should give you up, because it's time.

I don’t believe in palmistry or astrology, or stars. But last year when someone told me good things were happening, I thought of you. When they told me my life was supposed to change, I told my mother, “See? It’s all because of her”. Even she was happy about that. So now when people look at me, say that my eyes resemble black holes and that I look like someone who had a terrible year, I think of you. It’s particularly strange how love can sometimes turn out to be the worst thing that ever happened to you. When you’re the most unprepared. And then you take your bleeding heart and try to nurse it back to something that resembles a living being. You wonder if you took all the broken pieces of you that are scattered all over the city and put it back together, will you be whole again? It’s tough. But you made me realize that even if all hope is lost, I can still survive. Maybe that’s what everyone meant by good things. The thing is, sometimes, life lessons come in the form of people. And I’m glad it was you.

you fear that love will do what it always does turn you into rain

Emery Allen (via thelovejournals)