I can’t tell if my walls are going up,
Or if we’re just losing touch.
But this feeling in my chest
Is making me want to turn and run.
You hug me close and its like I’m trying to take off a jacket.
But I can be in a room full of people,
You’re on my mind,
And I can’t seem to shake it.
Now tell me…
How is that fair?
1 Mar 2014 / 6 notes
With you, I picture road trips with hours of neither of us saying a word, and it’s not because we’re upset with each other -Oh no.
It’s because for the first time in our lives we’ve found that person who’s presence is just as comforting as being alone.
You and I-
we’re not ones to fill our voids with another person.
We see our holes for what they are, we sit in them until we find a way to be rid of them.
We stay in our heads and build a nest there, leaving for the company of others but always returning to our quiet independence.
Being with you is being alone with my favorite book, but the characters talk back to me.
You’re all of my favorite songs, whispering back my name.
You’re all of my favorite quotes.
You’re inspiration when I misplace my own.
Because for the first time I want to be a better person, not because you make me feel like I have to be.
Because with you I know that I can be."
Febuary 04, 2014
4 Feb 2014 / 99 notes
I’m posting what I have, a whopping three scenes, as an update for my friends who want to read it thus far.
18 Dec 2013 / 6 notes
What you must know is that I’m actually happy. I don’t want anything I say to make you think otherwise.
But I can’t explain why sometimes I wake up feeling like i’m drowning, or how my heart feels like it’s caving in.
I don’t know why I go on walks alone and think about sad things, or why I identify so deeply with Vincent Van Gogh, but I’ll always cry over him.
I’ll always listen to songs that make a pit in my stomach, and sit in my bed alone and remind myself how loneliness feels.
I don’t ask to be sad, it’s a chemical imbalance in my brain telling me all the wrong things at precisely the worst of times.
I don’t ask for it, but I have stopped running from it.
You must know that i’m actually happy, still.
Life is a sad train ride, but i’m riding it until the end.
Even with tears collecting in the corners of my smile.
December 17th 2013
17 Dec 2013 / 27 notes
My body is trembling.
I’m trying not to cry, I sing music that is supposed to make me feel strong.
My voice shakes, and I feel the sob in my throat.
My core is tight and my fingers are numb.
Some days I’m just not strong enough for this life."
3 Dec 2013 / 4 notes
I Wrote This For You -November 18th 2013
18 Nov 2013 / 53 notes
November mornings. My breath floats through the air like a cloud, it smells like fireplaces and growing up in Tahoe. The spider webs hold dew and sunlight hostage, and the leaves litter the ground like burnt paper. If only I could capture this moment, i’d keep it in a bottle in my pocket and take it out on warm summer days.
I thought about you, and laying my head on your chest, and how different the world would look from there. I know it would sound different, because one ear would just be your heartbeat, and maybe that would be like background music as if I were in a movie or a video game. Though it would probably feel like a boss battle, or at least like I was dying, because your heart beeps when you’re dying in Zelda, but maybe if I was lying on your chest I would feel like that because I’d be that happy."
"A Letter To The One I Love" October 2013
27 Oct 2013 / 7 notes
23 Oct 2013 / 5 notes
Sometimes you just miss things, you know?
Like I miss the smell of the coffee we drank every morning.
And now coffee tastes like memories,
sometimes it fills me with butterflies,
and other times it’s like a rush of pain.
Like i’m suffocating from the air in my lungs.
Sometimes I miss the softness of your hands,
and I know my hands are just as soft,
and I hold my own hand and laugh to myself.
I miss a scent other than my own,
but then I find intimacy in places that mean nothing,
and I don’t feel safe, or at home.
I feel lost, and at the end of the day i’m still so much happier when I’m alone.
And maybe missing things is okay,
and maybe acknowledging them is better,
because I know that to feel is human,
and i’m very much so.
But feeling is an emotion,
and just because you give permission to feel,
doesn’t mean you’re signing a contract to act on it.
18 Sep 2013 / 7 notes
4 Sep 2013 / 6 notes
I wrote this when I was drunk.
30 Aug 2013 / 22 notes
27 Aug 2013 / 24 notes
I think somewhere along the way I forgot why I take pictures. It’s not about being perfect, it’s not about the right levels and exposure. It’s about capturing a moment, a memory, a personality. Fifty years from now I don’t want to look back on pictures where everything was right, i’d rather look back on pictures that were just as chaotic and real as we were.
26 Aug 2013 / 12 notes