If there is a God, He will have to beg my forgiveness.
― A phrase that was carved on the walls of a concentration camp cell during WWII by a Jewish prisoner (via 3hanna)
(Source: notclarissa)
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I like music, sleeping, art, poetry and horrible puns. Enjoy yourselves.
what doesn’t kill you
leaves scars
ruins your lungs
dries out all your tears
leaves you lying awake at 4 in the morning
wishing you weren’t alive
leaves scars
ruins your lungs
dries out all your tears
leaves you lying awake at 4 in the morning
wishing you weren’t alive
i cant old sport understand old sport your accent
I. Those of us born by water are never afraid enough of drowning. Bruises used to trophy my knees from my death-defying tree climb jumps. Growing up, my backyard was a forest of blackberry bushes. I learned early nothing sweet will come to you unthorned.
II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.
III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.
IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.
V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.
VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.
II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.
III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.
IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.
V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.
VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.
― Clementine von Radics, In Defense of Loving Him (after Megan Falley)
(Source: clementinevonradics)
