“What could I have said to you? If I had told all I had to tell, it would have taken volumes.”— Fyodor Dostoevsky, from a letter to Mikhail Dostoevsky, written c. April 1948
(via writemeanna)
“It all started the spring before I turned 22 and I still dyed my hair red because I liked how the water turned to blood when the dye soaked off and it made the urge to rip open my skin a little more bearable And April hit me like a whirlwind; she said I take your pain and I carry it with me. She grabbed a hold of the hurt and walked me down alleyways I would never go through alone. She buys me pepper spray and repeats how mood stabilizers are prescribed for a reason. The reason being so you don’t cry over the soup you spill at lunchtime. And April is in love, so you’re in love, and she talks about futures that feel real and she doesn’t mind that some days you feel so sick you can’t walk. She gives you advil and lets you drink hard seltzer on Tuesdays. Because she understands. She knows that pain starts in your chest but grows out. It kills you from the inside, out. She knows that the hurt doesn’t stop until it consumes you. So she tries to make Thursdays better by you reminding you it’s Friday tomorrow. And she never gives up. She once slammed her hand on her favorite ring and gushed blood for 15 minutes but still drove to the drive-thru because you said you were hungry. She doesn’t mind taking care or fixing what people broke, she loves and loves and loves.”— September 2020, Soulmates Can Be Friends Too
(via loviely)
Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems of Anne Sexton; “Iron Hans,” wr. c. 1963
(via highschoolhandjobs)
(via loviely)
“What would it take for me to wake and walk through the world as who I am?”— Elizabeth Kinkaid-Ehlers, from “Still Searching,” The Connecticut Review (2019)
(via trustissued)
there is no old self to get back to there’s a new u to create n nurture
(via pitifultears)
