what if you wore a shirt that featured a picture of you trying to claw your way out of the shirt with a horrid desperate expression and the text "THAT'S NOT ME THAT'S NOT ME I'M TRAPPED IN THE SHIRT"
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@thatcrazybitchplease
what if you wore a shirt that featured a picture of you trying to claw your way out of the shirt with a horrid desperate expression and the text "THAT'S NOT ME THAT'S NOT ME I'M TRAPPED IN THE SHIRT"

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I have been falling of the edges again. How many times do you hit the ground till you get used to hard ground hitting your body. How many times you get lost in dark just to know that it changes with time even if not to light, but it does change and you can breathe differently. I am waiting for moment that will set me free. I am wishing on stars once again. I hope their kindness find me so that i can move with ease. I no longer wish to drag myself in life. I want to run free.
leave me alone, i am self diagnosing my mental illnesses
and it pisses me off to not have more than 24 hours in my day. i want to watch every movie that made you feel something, every song that gave you a serotonin boost, every book that broke to make you, every poem that made you fall in love a little more, every fuckin thing you ever laid your eyes on- i want to be a part of that. it pisses me off to not have known you when we both were kids: untainted, innocent, fragile but now that we are older, do you believe me?
#let the man rest

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who cares how you talk about love? be passionate about it if it lets you unleash the rotting fury on a world that isn't even alive enough to see the colour on your face when you are in love; be bitter if your broken heart pricks you from the inside; be warm about it if it kisses you goodnight; be cold if you are paralyzed by it. tell the world how you feel if that makes you feel lighter. pull a frank gallagher on your love life. be reckless.
last summer i was in love and this winter i miss the warmth of our time together, of songs sung to each other, of poems written to one another, of the hands held, lips kissed, reluctant goodbyes, eager hi-s, of belonging somewhere. this winter my heart is loose in my chest and it rattles every time i recognize the familiarity of a lost love. i don't miss you, i miss us.
Not everyone can afford this madness, i am not tethered to anything, loneliness is a side effect of self medicating,nothing good can come out of infinite apologies;
my tragedy is- my freedom is absolute; it's abandonment at its finest. I am everything my mother warned me not to be.
there are days when my name lingers on the inside of your mouth; too reluctant to be explicit, too obvious to be discreet.
and it makes both of us tiptoe around each other till you say, "one last time" and spend the night in my dad's t-shirt that i always forget to bring back home. we have a hard time returning things, you and i. we make a home out of borrowed items because the reality of owning something that's just ours is scary; we are not who we wanted to be and if any of us got any closer to what we prayed for, i am not sure we'll recognize what we see. right now, i see you with my blurry vision because i can't find my glasses again and you have no idea how to look for things. you once told me you only started missing your grandma after she was buried. you do that; confess bizarre things just after coming. i don't mind it but i think i love you only when you are falling asleep beside me. the rest of the time we spend together, i nurture a mild hatred towards you so that we don't promise each other a forever we will grow to resist. well, even our hypotheticals are a calculated risk. there are days when your name lingers on the roof of my mouth so i just shove my tongue down yours so that we can never talk about anything real; reality bites, i'm sure you've noticed.
there are days when my name lingers on the inside of your mouth; too reluctant to be explicit, too obvious to be discreet.
and it makes both of us tiptoe around each other till you say, "one last time" and spend the night in my dad's t-shirt that i always forget to bring back home. we have a hard time returning things, you and i. we make a home out of borrowed items because the reality of owning something that's just ours is scary; we are not who we wanted to be and if any of us got any closer to what we prayed for, i am not sure we'll recognize what we see. right now, i see you with my blurry vision because i can't find my glasses again and you have no idea how to look for things. you once told me you only started missing your grandma after she was buried. you do that; confess bizarre things just after coming. i don't mind it but i think i love you only when you are falling asleep beside me. the rest of the time we spend together, i nurture a mild hatred towards you so that we don't promise each other a forever we will grow to resist. well, even our hypotheticals are a calculated risk. there are days when your name lingers on the roof of my mouth so i just shove my tongue down yours so that we can never talk about anything real; reality bites, i'm sure you've noticed.

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Alias Grass âcause we go from grass to grace
"So if I asked you about art youâd probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo? You know a lot about him. Lifeâs work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you canât tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. Youâve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that. If I asked you about women youâd probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you canât tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. Youâre a tough kid. I ask you about war, and youâd probably, uh, throw Shakespeare at me, right? âOnce more into the breach, dear friends.â But youâve never been near one. Youâve never held your best friendâs head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help. And if I asked you about love you probably quote me a sonnet. But youâve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like! God put an angel on earth just for youâŚwho could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldnât know what itâs like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldnât know about sleeping sittingâ up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours donât apply to you. You donât know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt youâve ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you; I donât see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid. But youâre a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my fuckinâ life apart. Youâre an orphan right? Do you think Iâd know the first thing about how hard ! your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I donât give a shit about all that, because you know what? I canât learn anything from you I canât read in some fuckinâ book. Unless you wanna talk about you, who you are. And Iâm fascinated. Iâm in. But you donât wanna do that, do you, sport? Youâre terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief."
-Sean Maguire, Good Will Hunting
when my lips touch yours, i rest on your wine breath and you kiss me like it'll be a little death if we stop now. i am a fool for your touch, your subtle laugh when you playfully punch me in the heart. i am a stupid girl in a city that you love and i love the word love because it reminds me of you everytime i say it. Love. Love. I Anna you. Anna. Love. See?
I think it's beautiful how cute we get when we are lonely. Calling up our bestfriend to talk about just anything before they ask if anything's wrong. Telling them it is, you are intimidated by the changing ways of life because you were finally getting used to the quiet life. Remembering school and your after school ice-cream dates, driving up to that quiet place behind school property where you can see the most beautiful sunset in the city. Writing I miss you and wish you were here to each other. Telling each other, you'll meet soon. Hugging your pillow and falling asleep to the playlist they made you on one of your birthdays. My heart is too fragile for reminiscence. I don't know how to contain all these so I sleep.

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"and perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone."
-Madeline Miller
my cat can instinctively tell when Iâm upset about something and she will come in and bite my toes to make me feel worse 𼺠what a little empath