My name is Alyce (Uh-Lease). Let's take a tumble down the rabbit hole. Welcome to my adventure.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
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Icky Thump.
There's something about today. It is full of hope. Not exactly happy, or butterflies in my stomach, but it's enough. Today is enough. I hear a siren outside my window. My dog starts barking. There's something about today. Something about sitting and listening to music. I finally did something. I finally woke up. I stood up, and I did something. All I had to do this whole time was open my eyes and move. My feet were locked in cement and all I could do was stare at the darkness in front of me. Everyone was moving. Everyone was doing something. All I could do is watch as life passed me by, but I was completely blind. And then I took one step. I don't know how. I don't know why. But I did. I finally feel alive.
#dark blue#spilled ink#writing#creative writing#prose#poetry#life#relationships#depression#sadness#help#learning#growing up
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Cartoonist Josh Hara Draws on His Coffee Cup(s) Every Morning [more] Previously: How to Get 10% Off Your Order at Not a Burger Stand
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Typewriter Series #971 by Tyler Knott Gregson
*It’s official, my book, Chasers of the Light, is out! You can order it through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound , Books-A-Million , Paper Source or Anthropologie *
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Stop looking for happiness in the same place you lost it.
Unknown (via beautiphool)
Oh my fucking god. READ THAT SHIT OVER AND OVER
(via pussy-flavored-ramen)
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You lost her. And now she lights up the night-time sky for her new lover cause he recognized her as the moon. And you envy him. She could’ve been your moon, but you were too busy chasing the dimly lit stars.
(via esthedik)
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Adios.
I sit here, and I'm lonely. Really, truly, utterly lonely for the first time in a long time. The self-loathing bubbles up my throat like acid, and I can't seem to grasp any happy vision in my life. It's like I completely bypassed all the great things in childhood and ended up here- a bitter, miserable adult who has been used by people countless times. When will I learn to stand up for myself? Or call someone out for their words? When will I learn that I need to be who I am and stop apologizing? Or simple just say no every once in a while. But that won't happen. That won't ever happen. The self-loathing bubbles harder in my throat, like a monster trying to make some way to my brain. Too many happy couples on every street corner, and people wishing you a good day. For once I just want to have a decent conversation with a person where we say that everything sucks and we need help. We are stuck in a vortex with no light. We can't see, we are slowly suffocating under all the opinions heaped upon our backs. But then I look in the mirror and it's all I see. Me, with that harrowing look. Me, with shadows under my eyes. Me, utterly dejected and alone. That's all I have left. And that's all I'll ever know.
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Optional.
I couldn't tell what he was thinking ever, and to me that was a big problem. I could always read people in a split second. But he was different. There was something about the way his eyes glazed a specific way...like he closed off the world and entered into his own little bubble. Me and him, him and me. We were perfect except for that. He couldn't let me in, didn't want to. I just remember so much pain and hurt and dismay in my heart, while sitting next to a statue.
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Dark blue.
There was a time when I knew your face. Every line and pore and crease and imperfection I had committed to memory. I closed my eyelids and saw a mirage of you giving me that stoic look and knew I had you memorized. I thought at the time that I couldn't love anything as vastly and deeply as I loved you. I thought I might tear apart if you left me. And I thought your vague ways were charming. Now I sit in bed, with a book on my lap. I had to put it down because every thought I had included your name. You had those deep set eyebrows, the color of black coal. And brown eyes. I remember that too. It doesn't take me long to conjure up your face. That's because I committed you to memory. I wonder if you see me at night, laying in bed...those few semi-conscious moments right before you fall asleep. I wonder if you can see my unruly brown hair that glinted in the sun and the green and gold of my eyes. I hope you can. Because it's moments like that I wonder if we were in a different time and place, with different names, completely different people...that we might have closure. Or we might be something. I think I'll always remember your face. I'll always remember that stoic look. I'll always remember you. I sometimes think I'm just waiting for that different time and place for us to be together again. I don't know if it will come. My body is a traitor and hopes without me for you. My mind warns me away. I loved you. But now I'll close my eyes against the memories until next time.
#spilled ink#writing#creative writing#prose#poetry#love#relationships#life#you#us#sad#depression#nostalgic
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Typewriter Series #949 by Tyler Knott Gregson
*It’s official, my book, Chasers of the Light, is out! You can order it through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, IndieBound , Books-A-Million , Paper Source or Anthropologie *
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I loved you for that.
There was some kind of magical, unspoken request between his fingertips and my skin. He brought to life every nerve in my body. They jumped and puckered to the surface. "You have goosebumps," He would say. I would smile in response as he gave me that knowing look. It made me nervous and excited and turned on all at once. What else could he do to make my heart beat faster and my palms sweat? The rhythm in my veins pulsed at super speed, and I felt myself losing grip on reality. What was up and down, left and right? He was the great unknown. Life happened between his fingertips and my skin, buzzing all around us and thrumming through my ears. All I could hear was my panting and feel his delirious smile. There was something exquisitely beautiful about a dark room and naked flesh.
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― Liv & Ingmar (2012) "I love you in my own imperfect, selfish way. And sometimes I think you love me in your own fussy, pestering way. I think we just love each other in an earthly and imperfect way."
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