"Take it all back. Life is boring, except for flowers, sunshine, your perfect legs. A glass of cold water when you are really thirsty. The way bodies fit together. Fresh and young and sweet. Coffee in the morning. These are just moments. I struggle with the in-betweens. I just want to never stop loving like there is nothing else to do, because what else is there to do?"

Pablo Neruda

(via sundaylatte)
Lessons I learned from 22

Lessons I learned from 22:

1) You may be a cat person, but that doesn’t mean you love everyone’s cats. This is simply an indication that you should never take your cats for granted again.

2) Lobster grilled cheese sounds fantastic to celebrate a new year, but if it leaves you up all night in agony: don’t eat it.

3) If a guy calls you up and asks you to come over and fuck him on his half hour lunch break: don’t do it. You are not a prostitute and are worth more than a half hour.

4) Don’t ever go back to places that take you out of your body and back into your head, replaying moments that once were vibrant but are now clouded with noise. Don’t ever set yourself up to feel your skin boil or your eyes shift back and forth between the spots you once sat in or, or kissed in, or fell apart in. Instead, surround yourself with bright lights and warm fires and laughter because you must always be reminded of everything that has built you up and not struck you down.

5) If he burns a hole through your stomach, he isn’t worth it. If he makes you worry over the smallest text back, he isn’t worth it. If he hates that you dressed up for him and “no one comes here in anything but jeans”, he isn’t worth it. If he makes your re-evaluate your sanity he isn’t worth it. If he gives you the love you want but not the love you need, leave. You don’t deserve to have holes where you used to be.

You don’t need to avoid entire streets and parks and spaces because you see his ghost there.

You are allowed to inhabit this place you’ve called home without fear of shattering.

He is worth nothing and you are everything.

6) If you slay yourself open and paint the pages of your books with your blood and breathe heavily into the ink and produce something that makes you proud, than that is worth its weight in gold, pearl and sapphire. Do not allow one person or group of people’s words undermine the guts you have to put yourself on display.

7) If she holds your hand and then severs your limb, allow it to grow back but never to fit in her palm again.

This goes for all limbs.

She cannot squeeze your hand tightly with the intention of reminding you of your self-eruption and then expect to tenderly caress it with words of apology.

If your limb is gone, then so is she.

You will grow a stronger one in its place that will be impenetrable.

8) Sometimes you have to stand in front of a wall inscribed with all of the worst things you have said and you must read them and ingest them and take account for all of them. Even those said drunkenly. Because those worth belong to you and you can’t walk away from them. Besides, they will be a reminder of how shitty/bitchy/annoying/fucked up you can be.

9) If you look into the future and see no image of what are you are doing but see where you are and who you are doing it with – that is happiness. That is your goal. The missing pieces will turn up later, maybe somewhere you didn’t expect.

10) Your family is your ultimate confidant. They have seen where you have come from and will unapologetically support you and carry your weight when you are nothing. They will wait in the ER with you when they have to work at 6 the next morning, they will drive to your apartment to pick you up and feed you your first meal in 4 months, they will remind you of what you were and push you back to where you came from but encourage where you’re going.

You are transparent to them and that is only good for you.

From 22, and now for 23:

1. Swiping left on a superficial app connected you with the person who now consumes your thoughts. The person you want to share grilled cheeses with, whom you want to take to your favourite places, and the person you wish more than anything to call your own.

He sees you. His glasses only shield him from the light he shines on you. Don’t forget to look down from the pedestal he has put you on. Feel the crown he has bestowed upon you.

Don’t think of the distance as a curse but as a blessing.

Don’t think of time as expansive but as a succession of moments built up until when you finally see each other again.

He is an anomaly, he is air, he is a sunset.

More often than sometimes, I say go for it.

2. Although you might not want to admit it, the energy you have put forth out into the universe has finally been rewarded and you need to grab onto it and turn it over and over and examine every crevice and inch of this place you have dreamed to go to and come back with exhausted eyes from seeing its landscape and your fingers bruised from feeling its people and your breath elongated from speaking your truth.

3. Don’t be afraid of switches being turned on and off and people entering and exiting and being pushed out of a wardrobe and into a new room you’ve never been in.

You’ve never been good with change, but you should embrace it to continue your path.

4) Light, not darkness.

Replace and recharge the battery if it empties.

Leave if you feel like falling.

Go home if you forget who you are.

Laughter and dancing and lights and sparks and yes and breathe…

If you can’t remember what you look like there will always be something around to check your reflection in.

There will always be someone there to tell you the story of how you sat by a planter and made him weak in the knees.

There will always be a voice on the line that reminds you that you are a dog, not a duck, but that just means you have to work harder to shake off the water.

Always remind yourself.

Remember and read your mind.

"

( a more perfect 82 )


This is because I need to speak my words out loud when I think them, and because I should be less afraid that you will hate what I have to say.

I am tired of playing guessing games, but you speak languages of love that I am not fluent in. I want to learn your dialects; show me what secret buttons I need to press to make you listen, because this is what I have to tell you:

You make me feel like I’m on top of the world, but I’m falling off mountains when I think my feelings are suffocating you. I think I can be your breath of fresh air. I want to help you see that not so much of the world is as toxic as you think. But am I making it worse? Am I poison to everything I touch, even if my hands haven’t held yours in the longest time? It’s hard to tell what you’re thinking when all I get is signals I can’t read.

If you kiss me, will it teach me how to speak your language? Because even if it doesn’t, kiss me anyway. Your lips are sweet against mine when you tell me you want me, and still my throat burns bitter when I don’t think you care.

But kiss me again. I’m not tired of trying to understand what you taste like.

"
(x). (via r-elentless)
"

In fact a mature person does not fall in love, he rises in love. The word ’fall’ is not right. Only immature people fall; they stumble and fall down in love. Somehow they were managing and standing. They cannot manage and they cannot stand – they find a woman and they are gone, they find a man and they are gone. They were always ready to fall on the ground and to creep. They don’t have the backbone, the spine; they don’t have that integrity to stand alone.
A mature person has the integrity to be alone. And when a mature person gives love, he gives without any strings attached to it: he simply gives. And when a mature person gives love, he feels grateful that you have accepted his love, not vice versa. He does not expect you to be thankful for it – no, not at all, he does not even need your thanks. He thanks you for accepting his love. And when two mature persons are in love, one of the greatest paradoxes of life happens, one of the most beautiful phenomena: they are together and yet tremendously alone; they are together so much so that they are almost one. But their oneness does not destroy their individuality, in fact, it enhances it: they become more individual.


Two mature persons in love help each other to become more free. There is no politics involved, no diplomacy, no effort to dominate. How can you dominate the person you love? Just think over it. Domination is a sort of hatred, anger, enmity. How can you think of dominating a person you love? You would love to see the person totally free, independent; you will give him more individuality. That’s why I call it the greatest paradox: they are together so much so that they are almost one, but still in that oneness they are individuals. Their individualities are not effaced – they have become more enhanced. The other has enriched them as far as their freedom is concerned.


Immature people falling in love destroy each other’s freedom, create a bondage, make a prison. Mature persons in love help each other to be free; they help each other to destroy all sorts of bondages. And when love flows with freedom there is beauty. When love flows with dependence there is ugliness.

"
— Osho (via thatkindofwoman)
Disclaimer

caution:
please don’t tell me I’m beautiful
because when you leave I will let the tracks of my tears stain my face for so long they will bear holes in my cheeks
and I will sit in front of a mirror and draw on it with lipstick all the features you loved but I now loathe
please don’t tell me you get lost in my eyes
because then I will have to dig them slowly out of their sockets and throw them in the ocean so I don’t drown in them
don’t tell me you love kissing every inch of my body
for then I will have to place an X on every space until I am covered in marks and no one else may ever kiss me where your lips touched that X
please don’t hold me too tightly
for when you’re gone I might have to wrap tape around all my limbs to remember what it felt like to not fall apart
don’t cook for me
even if it’s my favourite: grilled cheese
because when you disappear so will my appetite and my palette
don’t tell me you love my new tattoo because instead of a heartbeat I’ll see your name next to my heart;
the sharp and blunt sound of it causing irregularity in my rhythm
don’t tell me you dream of me
because when you’ve left I will try and sleep forever so maybe I can find you on a school bus or an amusement park in my dreams;
you’ll become a monkey
- mon petit singe -
don’t send me pictures of your face in a content expression
because it is tattooed on my brain and when you choose to go it will be a slideshow of your face gliding its way in front of my eyes
I wish you wouldn’t tell me you want me
because as soon as you said that
I wrote letters with all my stories and sent them floating to you on the lake you go to every night
and I documented my face in all of its varying emotions to assure you that sometimes you may not “want me”
and I called you – long distance;
the space stretched over miles –
while you were watching planes land
and with every word I said I felt like I was nosediving on that plane
I’m stretching my arm so far I can feel my bone separating from my muscle,
expanding across the distance to touch yours
even if I only feel your fingertips
I want to graze them;
feel the spark,
because when we met that spark was dancing around us,
taunting us, breathing us in, zipping past our faces
and I thought you wouldn’t kiss me
I thought maybe your face wouldn’t mould against mine
and I was foolish to think that this was what I had dreamt of
but you asked to kiss me
and when you did the reverb made me lose all thoughts;
I was emancipated from thinking
– from thinking
but caution:
please beware,
if you place a thought into my mind it grows roots and sprouts and branches and the leaves drift to the base of my skull
and I am filled with them:
you coming to me
you staying with me
you holding me
the branches grow stronger,
critters stay in there from the past
the birds carry the old memories and sit dangling on the tree,
bearing them;
new and old,
beware my thoughts
caution: do not read
but although I place this disclaimer,
I want you to rake the leaves and climb the branches
and water the roots
and sit by the trunk
and read the book of my thoughts
to absorb all my information, acknowledgments and table of contents
don’t flip through:
read
but beware:
do not plagiarize them to say to another
and don’t copy them word for word
and please don’t highlight them
my leaves are falling around you
smell the bark
and breathe me in.

"

You look healthy.

And by that I don’t mean you look fat.
I mean your face isn’t grey any more, the circles under your eyes aren’t so dark. Your lips aren’t cracked and dry and your hair isn’t thinning and brittle. I mean you seem more focused when I talk to you, You actually look at me and listen rather than being so unable to stay still or think about anything other than your illness that your eyes dart around the room and you nod manically the whole time I’m speaking. You seem calmer, stiller, quieter. You’re easier to have a joke with and you take things on board much more than you used to.
I mean you laugh now, you’re less serious. There’s life about you, it’s in your eyes and your smile, it’s in the way you speak and even in the way you go about your daily tasks. 

You look healthy. You look happy. It really, really suits you.

"
— Really needed to post this right now. This is the only thing that ever helps me get even a little bit into wise mind about how I look. (via foreveralotus)
"The day I stopped
checking on you was
the day I finally ended
an unwritten chapter.

I will look back on
your pages with pride.
Thank for gracing me
with the knowledge that
I can survive after you."
"I am complicated.
half of my poems
are warning people not to get close to me
and the other half
are begging them to come near.
I am not simple.
I am not the kind of person you fall in love with.
Please, love me."
HEY HERE IS ME ON MY DASHBOARD AS ANOTHER GIF

HEY HERE IS ME ON MY DASHBOARD AS ANOTHER GIF

cross-connect:

Artist on tumblr - Ricardo Bouyett is a 21-year-old photographer from Chicago, Illinois.

I derive inspiration from life, and I don’t mean that in an avant-garde romantic way at all. I mean that I play witness to many different forms of art and expression that I feel compelled to pay tribute to these varying beauties by creating portraits that communicate identity, love, loss, and life. I tend to rely a lot on music, dance, and poetry 

via interwiev for lostfreedommagazine.com

                                     :-)