iamyown - Tumblr blog

[iamyown]

but! we! cannot! simply! sit! and! stare! at! our! wounds! forever!

[iamyown]

womanhood is both tragic and beautiful that you might mistake a woman for a poet and womanhood for poetry

[iamyown]

i'm no poet. but i am lonely and sad and full of dreams i can't achieve in this lifetime. i want and want and want and want. i have so many wants that one heart is not enough to contain it.

[iamyown]

in another universe, i am a child again and no one has hurt me yet. and maybe, in another universe, no one will.

[iamyown]

She wasn't a good mother. That's why I couldn't be a good daughter.

[iamyown]

anger:

i wonder if i got it from you or if you got it from me

[iamyown]

my anger is gentle.

or

is it tired?

[iamyown]

jackie & wilson - hozier / either/or: a fragment of life - søren keirkegaard / first love/late spring - mitski

[iamyown]

GOD, IF YOU REALLY LOVE ME, KILL ME RIGHT NOW!

— Nelson T. Dy, How to Mend A Broken Heart

[iamyown]

MOM, CAN'T YOU SEE? WHY CAN'T YOU FUCKING SEE? WE LIVE UNDER THE SAME ROOF, WHY HAVEN'T YOU SEEN THEM YET? THE SIGNS THAT I DESPERATELY TRIED TO SHOW, ARE THEY NOT VISIBLE ENOUGH? HOW MORE OF MYSELF DO I HAVE TO EXPOSE? TO LAY BARE? IS IT MY FAULT? MAMA, IS IT MY FAULT ALL ALONG?

[iamyown]

reject canon, embrace delusion

[iamyown]

i am not feminine, i am not masculine. i am awkward.

[iamyown]

“Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

— Jamie Anderson

[iamyown]

It's said that parents could never win against their children, and that's what happened that day. His mother bought the robot T-shirt and gave up on the button-up. After that, they arrived at this very station. Holding his hand tightly, his mother waded through the crowd of people in a way that could intimidate oncoming cars in busy traffic. But people kept shoving past them; people pushed by like that as he was wrenched from his mother's grasp. Not a single one of them apologized to him, even when he was frantically searching for his mother's face in a sea of humans. Nobody came to ask him what's wrong when he cried and wailed next to the ticket machines. He was small and scared and confused, and nobody bothered to help him until his own mother found him. Now he's lost his way again, in the same station no less. Except he's now tall enough to look over the tops of people's heads, his mother isn't around to come get him, and he's lost in more ways than one. He can't cry or scream, either.

— asongofriceonfire, "the heart's necessities include the interlude"

[iamyown]

"please don't start your war yet, i'm not done being loved by him."

— MesserMoon, "Choices"

[iamyown]

"Well, let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice."

– F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Short Stories