New Works Of Basil Hallward (part 1 Of 2).

reblog to give a lesbian a sword, a bi girl a dagger, and a trans girl a cool gun

This When my mind won't let me exist - When I am just alive in the most technical sense. Breathing Blinking Trapped in a cage I can't escape

do you ever think about this quote by mary lambert because i think about it all the time

se on kaunista kirjoittamasi sanat

I mold myself like clay.

Thumb impressions smeared across my skin from stretching myself for others.

I make myself malleable, easily adaptable.

I will craft myself into whatever you want me to be.

and I will never ask you

- [i.r.]

[06.23.21.]

this is so upsetting, PLEASE rb to spread awareness

CHARACTERS AS COCKTAILS 🍹 ➤ nondisney ladies (part 3/3)

I

“write a love poem for you, it will open up the door to compliment yourself.” it is hard to see me, most of the time. like your brain filling in the missing space from between your eyes, except the opposite. an invisible force feeding the cat the space between a group of friends, an empty bed, a hazy image in the mirror. my gaze jumps over me to regard the far more interesting world. I am a good observer. That is enough for now.

Sometimes

Sometimes I wish I listened to my

Heart

Drive till I can’t see anymore

Break into abandoned factories

All while making molotov cocktails in a car that

Doesn’t exist

Only companion

Is the guilt that meows

Softly from behind dirty glasses

Telling me that I could have saved the world.

How can a person save anything

If the only thing they want to do

Is for their dead heart to Beat?

The good news: Soulmates are real.

The bad news: Reincarnation is also real, and the vast majority of souls on Earth are not presently incarnated as humans. If you are a living human, statistically your soulmate is currently some sort of beetle, or possibly a small salt-water crustacean.

true love is the one that brings you happiness and, to me, what we had was true.

It was my purpose, my drive, and most certainly it was my will to live.

It was to me, surreal. a dream I got to be in everyday, an honor that filled my breast with pride and kept me brave.

love is above all, made of trust. the foundation determining how many cracks appear when the world shakes. I failed you - I swore to keep you safe, to strengthen our love everyday, to be together in all things.

I betrayed you with inaction: letting that anchor of a disease drag me away from you, leaving you alone - Atlas to hold the world at bay, while Epimetheus acted without thought. and so my days begin and end with a question, "if I lived to harbor this drop of Prometheus' flame, a being who inspired endless creativity, love, awe; why do I still draw breath when I was the one who called the earthquakes?"