half-forgotten-memory-blog - Tumblr blog

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

2018. A pipe dream for the beaten down and broken.  A 'once upon a time,' a fairy tale or a nightmare come to life.

R.C

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Go to a park. Find a bench, or a rock, or a tree, and sit. Just sit, surrounded by nature, and listen. Hear the crunch of the leaves under the squirrels quick feet. Hear the falling acorns rolling to a stop. Hear the ducks landing gracefully on the water. Feel the birdsong vibrate through your soul.  This is what I know of love. No flesh and blood body will ever love me as much as this earth does. No warm hand compares to the caress of the breeze over my skin. No feather-light kisses compete with the sunbeams breaking through the trees just to kiss my face. There is nothing as intimate as baring your soul to this earth and receiving life in return. My true love is Mother Nature, for she breathes live into my lungs each day.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

I’m so afraid. Because I’m so profoundly happy. Happiness like this is frightening… They only let you this happy if they’re preparing to take something from you.

Khaled Hosseini, The Kite Runner (via wordsnquotes)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Remember that you ought to behave in life as you would at a banquet. As something is being passed around it comes to you; stretch out your hand, take a portion of it politely. It passes on; do not detain it. Or it has not come to you yet; do not project your desire to meet it, but wait until it comes in front of you.

Epictetus, The Enchiridion (via philosophybits)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

What better way to suffocate reality than with beautiful fiction?

Amanda Molina - “The Fragrance of Female Adolescence” (via buttonpoetry)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

There are days that I wake up and the world is made of static, a thick blanket of fog dulling my senses. There are days when I can't open my mouth, not to talk, not to eat, not to brush my teeth. An invisible forcing clamping my lips shut. These are the days that I have to force my way through a meal, the days where I swallow my pills dry and don't move for hours. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that the sun will rise again, and that I could wake up and feel rejuvinated, but these are the days where the numbness feels endless. I can't trust myself to believe in tomorrow, so I trust the earth. I trust the rotation beneath my feet, the gentle arc of the sun across the sky, the shadows shifting on the floor of my bedroom. There are days when I do not believe that tomorrow will come, but Mother Nature is always there to remind me that it will.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

I feel I am lost. Equivalent to dead. It is terrifying. I no longer feel like making the effort. I think of no one. The rest is over. You as well. I am alone.

Marguerite Duras, from “No More; C’est Tout,” (via violentwavesofemotion)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

I was afraid of being afraid. I wounded the silence. The vast spaces sharpened my grief.

Violette Leduc, tr. by Derek Coltman, from “La Bâtarde,” (via weltenwellen)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Some days, I wake up and the sun is shining and the weather is perfect for my favorite outfit. I listen to the birds sing, and the leaves rustle in the breeze, and everything seems okay...good, even. But most days...most days I wake up and my first thought is that I want to go back to sleep. Most days it takes me half an hour to get the energy to get out of bed. Most days, my sunglasses are a permanent fixture on my face because the sun is always too bright and I don't want anyone to see my dead eyes. Even if the stars align and everything goes perfectly, the whole day just feels...wrong. Uncomfortable. Like my skin is too tight for my body and the earth is tilting around me. I want to burst out at the seams. I want to pop a stitch and claw my way out of this body that does not want me in it. I live for those Some Days. For the days when the clear blue sky feels limitless instead of confining. For days when I go on walks in the park for the scenery alone, not for the escape that I long for so deeply. The days when living actually seems possible. These days are few and far between, but they are what makes getting out of bed possible in the mornings, they are why I refuse to waste away in my room. My point is that you have to keep going. You have to keep fighting, because there is a Some Day right around the corner, and on that day, the sun will sparkle in your eyes, and warm your skin, and the world will feel yours again. The world can be yours again.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Flashes of a door slamming night after night, fists clenched against the need to fight, a mother at the edge, and a daughter fighting for control. There's no calming the swirl of anger pulsing through her veins, no way to settle the blood pounding inside her.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

It is not our job to remain whole. We came to lose our leaves Like the trees, and be born again, Drawing up from the great roots.

Robert Bly (via observando)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Helpless to the thoughts crammed inside my head Exposed to the darkest corners of my mind Lost, with no where to turn. I expected a cure, a magic little pill that could turn me into the child that I once was. A magic little pill that could find the childhood I lost far too soon. Instead, I found myself led down a path I'm sure I've seen before. Presented with a self I'd thought died years ago. That magic little pill that balanced the storm in the brain, but that can do nothing for the memories once hidden, now shown light once more.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

The thing about her is that she’s just crazy. She gets drunk on literature and fall in love too easily but denies it. She builds walls all around her but she pokes them for fun. She’s irrational and not perfect at all but one thing is for sure; you will fall for her.

giulswrites (via giulswrites)

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

Greyscale there are no seasons in this heart of mine. winter and summer only months of too much. I live my life in the in between, the grey area of this earth. Spring warms my shaking bones, autumn soothes my blistering skin.  My mom used to say, "there is never only black and white" i think I took that a little too close to heart.

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]

so peculiar the flame that brings warmth to my mind and comfort to my soul is the same flame that brought you to your knees begging to take you instead

R.C.

[half-forgotten-memory-blog]