May I be but one thought in your head? May I be but one single moment of complete bliss to you?

I should hope that the thought of me should make you smile, because each second that I ponder your heart; I am set ablaze.

T.B. LaBerge // Unwritten Letters to You (via tblaberge)

(via restlesswithout)

1. Do not hate them for it. They are on a journey too.
2. Understand that sometimes you will be a bandage caressing a temporary wound or you will be a pinnacle of permanency rooted deeply in their heart. Accept that you do this to people too.
3. Do not step on your feet trying to find a rhythm you are not meant to follow.
4. Do not let it harden you: continue to nurture, continue to love.
5. People use words as anchors to latch onto bits of you and when they leave remind yourself that the sea never bled itself dry because a ship left it.
6. Write the nastiest letter and burn it.
7. Yes, they may have illuminated pieces of you that you were unaware existed. But now you do and they are not the last person to remind you.
8. Dizzy yourself with everything you love, like dancing in the greenhouse to horrid pop songs or reading Haruki Murakami.
9. Set all that anger ablaze, you are wasting your time sifting through it.
10. Internalize the fact that you were still breathing before you met them.
11. Forgive them.

what to do when people leave. (via herscience)

(via squeats)

Worst Traits

I’m afraid that I inherited all my worst traits from you.

Like your temper that caused me to cower when I was young

Huddled under the covers praying that this time, you wouldn’t find me.

I learned how to keep my room messy cause the artifacts from a childhood I never really had slowed you down as you stumbled in the dark

Groping for a child pushed so far back against the wall it’s a miracle she didn’t collapse into it

Falling into a world that could have saved her.

You taught me how to strike first so I’m never the one to get hurt

And how to never be the one waving goodbye.

But now I’m told I need to learn how to let things go

That the more I bottle up inside the more I’ll become just like you.

Because grudges are like that hot potato game you taught me—they only burn the one holding them.

But people don’t realize that all my nightmares are made up of you.

And even running off of three hours of sleep, it’s still your face I see every single time I blink.

Cause no matter how hard I tried I could never get your blood out of me.

And your DNA still constitutes half of who I am

Which is something I’ll never fully be able to escape.

Cause along with the color of my hair, the way I eat my cereal, and my inexplicable love of the smell of mulch,

I also inherited all of my worst traits from you.


I always thought that for someone to really hurt you, they had to be in the same room.

Sharp words; iron fists; thoughtless, backhanded insults.

But I’m coming to learn that silence cuts deeper.

Disappearance, no explanation, and a sudden drop off.

Silence leaves scars.

And as the bruises from the fights fade and heal,

I’m left with those scars populating my insides.

Because the thing about silence: you can’t protect yourself.

No matter how fast you fling your hands up to block your face, silence fills in the cracks.

Slowly pries open every tiny paper cut until they’re gaping wounds.

And it never attacks from the front.

Because silence is the coward’s tool.

Sent at your weak side so you don’t see it coming

Because if you did see it coming, well, then you’d have to talk about it.

People always say that words are cheap.

But more often than not, a single word could change everything.

Nobody seems to acknowledge the sheer immensity of words

Or maybe we just think if we ignore them long enough, they’ll stop mattering.

Cause I’m starting to wonder if I wouldn’t rather surround myself with people I hate.

So maybe then when they disappear, it won’t hurt so much.

Like somebody chopped off one of my limbs and took it with them.

I always thought that for someone to really hurt you, they had to be in the same room.

That is, until I met you.


25 and still single, we’ll marry each other dodged the bullet by 3 years.

Now, I see the one girl who finally succeeded in loving you more than I could.

The one who tore down the walls I didn’t even know existed brick by brick until there was nothing left of the friend I once knew.

Who looks at you like you just gave her something she didn’t even know she needed until the moment she met you.

Now as I figure out how to function on my own, I realize my life has been an endless string of men defining my existence.

Not to make you feel small because you gave me the world and searched for years to find the pieces of my life I lost when he shattered me.

You restored my faith in men.

But I have two legs of my own and all this time I was allowing you to carry me, clinging tight so I wouldn’t have to see the ugliness that my world had become.

Allowed to hide because I had you to fight my battles for me.

But I was born with my mother’s strength inside of me and it’s time I let it out.

Because suddenly I’m the only single one left and I have no idea how I got here but it’s time I move forward.

Things won’t be the same but to wish for that would end the progression that I crave.

If I try to stand still I’ll fall backwards into the past I’ve worked so hard to run away from.

And we may be going seperate ways but you’ll always be my best friend

And I can finally be happy for you instead of wishing you were here.

Because for the first time, being on my own doesn’t scare me.

To David

There was a time when you told me I was beautiful.

You built me up and led me down a path I never could have imagined.

You smelled strongly of cigarettes and new hope and I drank it in like it was my lifeline.

At a time when I felt trapped and scared, you opened the curtains, you let in the light, and you pushed me to fly.

Until the words changed.

To “You ugly, worthless slut. Just go kill yourself already nobody wants you.”

After saving your life, your words turned out to be just more empty promises falling from the lips of the men I thought I could trust.

And then you were back.

Slid back into my life on the waves of apologies and “I promise, I’ve changed.”

Despite the voice of reason that warned me away and the laundry list of reasons that I should say no.

“We’ve been through so much.”

“I forgive you.”

Over and over it never stopped until you had stolen everything good from my life and used it as fodder for your songs and the quiet words you whispered into other girls’ ears.

Bled me dry and pushed me down until I could no longer picture my life without you.

Until all I could think was, “What did I do wrong to make him leave?”


For My Mother

These women bore down like rabid wolves on a tired soul who was already crumbling before them.

Keeping husbands in the shadows because they were so afraid that she would cause their families to come apart at the seams.

Keeping children at arms length from her’s for fear that poverty and pain were contagious.

And now as her children grow and change and succeed these same women claim a hand in their rearing.

As if they understood the pain that caused a struggling mother to consider taking her own life and only holding on so that her children wouldn’t have to live with their father.

As if they understood the bruises they left, flinging words like “Whore” and “Slut” in her direction.

As if they understood the nights she had to hold her children, crying because nobody would play with them while trying to hold back her own tears, unable to comprehend the pain these “Christian” women could so thoughtlessly inflict.

As her children tramped through the snow with bread bags on their feet because they couldn’t afford boots and her sons got in fights at school defending their mother’s honor.

As she tried to heal the gaping wounds in her soul left by a man she thought had loved her and tried to make a name for herself in a culture that said she was nothing without that man by her side.

She steeled herself against the bitter whirlwinds of regret and judgment, and grew to tower over the women who worked so hard to make her small.

She taught her children that from suffering comes strength and thus gave them the wings they required to overcome their circumstances.

Because of her, I have the opportunity to leave the “esteemed educators” who told me I couldn’t succeed.

That college wasn’t for everyone.

That, maybe, I should just give up now.

But the words, “I want to be just like you” still make her laugh because the ability to see her own strength was torn out of her when I was still young.

And she still drowns in the “what if”s of her past.

So for every victory, every triumph, and every, single time I prove them wrong, I do it for my mother.