I do not feel okay.

I want to be held. Held tightly to feel secure. Not by you. By someone who I know loves me.

(via lloveyou)


All the people who don’t love me back are all the people

I don’t love anymore.

The next time it happens, I plan to say

Not yours. Mine. I will push you off of me and leave myself behind

the way tea leaves settle at the bottom of the bowl.

The only problem is nothing left of me will settle.



Eventually I will end up without enough candles

to keep lighting a séance for the person I used to be

to come back home.

All the melting wax dripping from my bedroom walls

could fill a birthday cake three times over.

In my dreams, my mother shells lobsters and hangs the detached claws


You are not what I want. You are not what I need. I will tell myself that until the day I say, “Who were you to me in the first place?”


I wonder if I ever caught someones attention. Even if I was just walking among the crowd, I wonder if they wanted to get to know me or anything like that.

(via atumbik)


This is exactly why we have this technology

(via acrylicalchemy)


Maybe it’s why my cat drools on me when she sleeps.