elfgrl

[elfgrl]

You are a wretched, wretched soul. A nightmare come to plague me.

[elfgrl]

I have successfuly obtained the power of duplication!

I can now share my contrivances with you.

My imps are ready to deliver whenever you desire.

my Inprnt shop -> Link

Sharing would be greatly appreciated too!

[elfgrl]

“If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

[elfgrl]

when audre lorde said “you need to reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you and make it somehow useful.”

[elfgrl]

when e.e. cummings said “i’ll live my life if it kills me”

[elfgrl]

You’re born and dealt the hand you’re dealt, right? Isn’t that what they say?

It is what it is. Luck of the draw. This is what you get.

But I’ve never really heard anyone say the next part, the part where you take those cards - however shitty or wonderful they may be - and you deal them back out.

To other people, people you love and hate and in return they do they same to you.

Just an endless cycle of pain and love, cruelty and beauty. Generations of it.

Some people make it out of that purgatory. They fight back against the cycle, try to break it while it continuously tries to drag them back, drag them down.

Some people make it out alright.

Most don’t.

I wonder which one I’ll be.

[elfgrl]

Yes, there is a place / where someone loves you both before / and after they learn what you are.

Neil Hilborn, "Lake", The Future

[elfgrl]

Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

[elfgrl]

“I’ve polished this anger and now it’s a knife.”

— Cathy Linh Che, from “Go Forget Your Father,” published in Poetry

[elfgrl]

For K.

You said, “It hurts you more than it hurts me.”

You said, “Let’s talk again when your feelings for me have faded.”

And I laughed.

“ My feelings are dead,” I said with a smile on my face, as if I wasn’t the biggest liar in the world in that moment.

Forget about faded, forget about forgetting. I remember the way my name sounded leaving your mouth. I remember the way you laughed. I remember the sweet names you called me, the way you made me feel less alone, the way you told me, “We’re a team. Open up to me more. Let me help you.” I remember when I almost started to believe you.

I remember you leaving me behind.

And hurt? I’ve become so familiar with the sound of doors closing and footsteps fading and dial tones that never pick up. I’ve never had a home, not really, but I almost feel it in the pain of loving and being left. It’s the only bed I’ve ever laid in every night, half cold from their absence and missing them. I have splinters dotting my fingertips from all the hearts I’ve tried to hold. If you want me to be honest, I don’t know if I would even be able look at my scars and tell yours apart.

The truth is, it might hurt me more but that’s okay with me. Is that wrong? Is that sad?

I’ve always felt punished for caring more, though it’s no one’s fault but my own in the end.

I think some people are just meant to hurt more, no matter what. Is it because someone has to? Is it because we can take it?

Is it because there are people like you, who don’t?

I might smile, I might say I’m okay but our words don’t come with receipts. You can buy it all you want, what someone might say, but there’s never any way to return it once you realize it’s not quite right.

It’s not quite true.

If we could, I have so many I’d like to return when it comes to the conversations I had with you.

The truth is, I love you.

The truth is, I hate you.

But the truth is, I could never hate you.

I’m still trying to figure out how that can be. I’m still trying to figure out how my name was so easy to erase. After all that was said, your sudden indifference is a language I will spend years trying to understand. It is a language that no matter where I go or who I’m with, I’ll hear it’s echo in the back of my mind whenever I talk to someone new.

I run fingers along each curve of every letter of your name and even though others have come before it and ones will come after, I can’t stop my fingers from shaking thinking of the moment when I’ll finally have to let go.

I do still care. And I do hurt more. But the pain of being discarded and still having some part of you hurt less than even the thought of being a stranger. It’s why I could never truly walk away.

My hands shake and weeks pass and I still cry. But I keep my eyes open and I finally pull away my hands and just like the feelings you once promised me would never change, I watch you fade away.

[elfgrl]

It’s okay that not everything is going to be okay. Breathe.

[elfgrl]

monster

you grow up and you learn that monsters are real. You learn they’re even worse than you imagined. They don’t have fangs, they don’t want your blood, they don’t lurk in closets or under beds.

They’re as human as you are. They look at you with human eyes, they smile just like you. They talk and sing and walk just like you.

Sound like you.

They leave handprints on your body, they leave bruises, the same shape as your own fingers might be. 

you grow up and there’s no one to check in all the dark corners for you. There's no one to call. There’s no one who can say, “it’s all going to be okay.”

I wonder if that’s a blessing, I wonder if it’s worse to keep going believing in the lie. I don’t have the answers. And that’s it, that all I truly know.

That no one does.

Don’t look behind you, don’t make a sound. It’s easy to continue with your eyes closed and your headphones turned all the up.

 Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Don’t say I didn’t tell you not to open your eyes.

[elfgrl]

Kerry Egan, On Living

[elfgrl]

I was quiet; but I was not blind.

Jane Austen (via thoughtkick)

[elfgrl]

Forgive yourself for the things you did just to survive.

[elfgrl]

That’s the thing about losing people. You have no choice but to move on, to keep going.

Time doesn’t stop.

The world keeps spinning.

But you have no choice but to keep the memories either. You have no choice but to remember them, as awful and true as it is that you might want to forget.

They don’t grow or change like we do.

Time freezes as they go. And you leave them behind.

Would they even recognize you anymore?

Do you recognize yourself?

You can visit the past as much as you want but nobody is home.

Nobody lives there anymore.

[elfgrl]

I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before. 

PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005) dir. Joe Wright Matthew MacFadyen as Mr. Darcy