PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT

(i'm not sure what i'm doing here anymore)

are we dating? are we fucking? are we best friends? are we something? in between that? i wish we never fucked and i mean that. (but not really. you say the nastiest shit in bed and it's fucking awesome)

basically, all i want from life is pretty lingerie

on having a boyfriend with ocd

"he was always turning the lights on and off,

opening and closing the door,

counting as he went: thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty.

eventually i had to tell him that if he kept opening the door,

we’d have a whole bunch of house intruders

before the night was through. he responded by trying to kiss me once,

then ended up kissing me twenty-three times, then once more

for an even twenty-four. then he had to redo two of them

because “our mouths hadn’t been quite aligned.”

some nights i’d wake up with the moon soaking the bedsheets,

listening to the sound of him repeating the word “fuck”

over and over: he’d stubbed his toe on the bathroom doorway

but couldn’t stop swearing once he’d started.

i fell back asleep after staring at my pillow

until the floral pattern burned into my eyelids,

dreamt the two of us went to an opera but instead of beautiful,

tremulous voices rising high into the air,

two sopranos were singing “fuck” to the tune of la traviata.

he apologises the next day, says the new medication

made him feel like shit all the time so he took himself off it;

i respond that it probably made him feel that way

because it was working.

two days later the ambulance comes and takes him away;

he’d accidentally cut one of his wrists with the steak knife

chopping carrots for stew

but couldn’t have just one cut wrist;

he had to have two."

by meggie royer

also, you need to watch this, and listen to this

if you never do anything, you never become anyone

an education (2009) is one of my all-time favourite films. it follows jenny (carey mulligan), a sixteen year old teen living in suburban london who hopes to study english at oxford university after her a levels. however, she soon falls for the seemingly worldly david goldman (peter sarsgaard), a man of almost twice her age. 

"i'm going to read what i want, and listen to what i want, and i'm going to look at paintings and watch french films, and i'm gonna talk to people who know lots about lots" - jenny

oh this is longing // i want to be complete //

listen to this. i heard it first during the closing credits of the film stoker (2013). obsessed. 

"vincent van gogh used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would get the happiness inside him. many people thought he was mad and stupid for doing so because the paint was toxic, never mind that it was obvious that eating paint couldn’t possibly have any direct correlation to one’s happiness, but i never saw that. if you were so unhappy that even the maddest ideas could possibly work, like painting the walls of your internal organs yellow, than you are going to do it. it’s really no different than falling in love or taking drugs. there is a greater risk of getting your heart broken or overdosing, but people still do it everyday because there was always that chance it could make things better. everyone has their yellow paint."

alexandra timmer, awkward at parties

a good day

"yesterday, i spent 60 dollars on groceries,

took the bus home,

carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment

and cooked myself dinner.

you and i may have different definitions of a good day.

this week, i paid my rent and my credit card bill,

worked 60 hours between my two jobs,

only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks

and slept like a rock.

flossed in the morning,

locked my door,

and remembered to buy eggs.

my mother is proud of me.

it is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.

she doesn’t combat topics like, "my daughter got into yale"

with, "oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs"

but she is proud.

see, she remembers what came before this.

the weeks where i forgot how to use my muscles,

how i would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.

she thought each phone call from an unknown number was the notice of my suicide.

these were the bad days.

my life was a gift that i wanted to return.

my head was a house of leaking faucets and burnt-out lightbulbs.

depression, is a good lover.

so attentive; has this innate way of making everything about you.

and it is easy to forget that your bedroom is not the world,

that the dark shadows your pain casts is not mood-lighting.

it is easier to stay in this abusive relationship than fix the problems it has created.

today, i slept in until 10,

cleaned every dish i own,

fought with the bank,

took care of paperwork.

you and i might have different definitions of adulthood.

i don’t work for salary, i didn’t graduate from college,

but i don’t speak for others anymore,

and i don’t regret anything i can’t genuinely apologise for.

and my mother is proud of me.

i burned down a house of depression,

i painted over murals of greyscale,

and it was hard to rewrite my life into one i wanted to live

but today, i want to live.

i didn’t salivate over sharp knives,

or envy the boy who tossed himself off the Brooklyn bridge.

i just cleaned my bathroom,

did the laundry,

called my brother.

told him, "it was a good day"."

by kait rokowski

(and if you would like to see her reading of this poem click here because
it is beautiful and powerful and i just recommend that you do)

honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do

“forgive. forget. fake it. chin up. wear lipstick, make lists, make sure your voicemail isn’t full. mix protein shakes, send timely thank you notes, sip drinks more slowly, stare at adults’ eyebrows, smile without dimples, develop perfect posture. be gracious, be kind, eliminate self-pity. look in the mirror and shift your internal monologue from ‘how do i look?’ to ‘this is my face,’ from ‘what the hell am i doing?’ to ‘this is my life.’ capitalise your emails, read the news, walk briskly, stay focused, and never, ever let on that you are somewhat lost and sometimes lonely and so completely confused (and would someone please just let me know what it is i’m supposed to do next, where exactly i’m supposed to go–). just keep going. go, and do not stop.”

jennifer schaffer, a checklist for the age 19