Scarfgirl

do you remember the first time you were called annoying?
how your breath stopped short in your chest
the way the light drained from your eyes, though you knew your cheeks were ablaze
the way your throat tightened as you tried to form an argument that got lost on your tongue.
your eyes never left the floor that day.
you were 13.

you’re 20 now, and i still see the light fade from your eyes when you talk about your interests for “too long,”
apologies littering every other sentence,
words trailing off a cliff you haven’t jumped from in 7 years.
i could listen to you forever, though i know speaking for more than 3 uninterrupted minutes makes you anxious.
all i want you to know is that you deserve to be heard
for 3 minutes
for 10 minutes
for 2 hours
forever.

there will be people who cannot handle your grace, your beauty, your wisdom, your heart;
mostly because they can’t handle their own.

but you will never be
and have never been
“too much.”

Tyler Ford  (via timmy)

All the feels for this

(via heylookitstimmy)

Grilled cheese and the human embodiment of whiteness.

Grilled cheese and the human embodiment of whiteness.

This reminds me of when I would write something on this blog that no one other than myself would understand. It wasn’t useful to anyone, but it helped me process how I was feeling in a succinct manner. 

I feel like those days are returning. The days when there was intense joy in most of what I did. Running, exploring, and living, basically. Maybe I’m nostalgic for what never was.

Anyway, this bothers me. It reminds me of the Eedmu bitterness. Actually, it was a nice bitterness that I think I was kind of fond of. It was the kind of bitterness that inspired art and creativity in me. It was harmless, externally. 

God, it feels like the months leading up to that summer after 11th grade that I miss so much. That album, that song, those weekends. 

I hope it’s not too soon to say this, but I’m happy, and I’m okay. 

I hung up the souvenirs from the woods over my bed and next to my Sherlock hat.

I hung up the souvenirs from the woods over my bed and next to my Sherlock hat.