#Anchorite

[kieselsteinn]

it’s such a draaaaag

friendly fire on DROVEmycar

[unbelievabelle]

its such a drag

[tmbmtb]

Sometimes I wish I hadn’t taken all my notes on your rolling papers But when you burned them the scent came as such a bittersweet vapor I watched the flames silence the words I was given in life But if your heart was in it, I was glad to be your sacrifice

✯ Anchorite (Love You Very Much), Car Seat Headrest

[jessethejoyful]

my two girlies side by side ❤️✨

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

brain on fire at the center of things

god it feels empty here. i feel hollow. lifeless. a bird flown into a glass door and left in the bushes. i miss the grave i dug for myself. i miss the proximity to love. god it does not feel right.

i don’t know why i’m here. i lost track of what i was fighting for. it’s lonely even when you’re not alone and all i have left are bad dreams and people who cannot possibly fathom caring.

you won’t process it; you say you can’t. you didn’t ever see them. you didn’t know. two tiny pairs of eyes, like starlight pinpricks in a deep dark sea. you leave in the night and i sleep under the bed.

god i hope you never know.

i hope you are never the skeleton in your own closet. the body never becomes a graveyard, haunted house. i hope that you never meet their eyes in the mirror behind you.

hauntings like that aren’t for the faint of heart. i feel a little less steady in myself every day.

i thought i was strong before. i must have been kidding myself.

what 17 year old with a drug problem and heavy heart thinks she can’t take on the tsunami outside her bedroom door? what kid isn’t just a little bit afraid of the dark.

reincarnation, right? one thing ends and another must begin. end of one life, start of another. i lost sight before, when i bled onto the floor alone in that room. it’s like i’ve woken up again.

i will continue to think of you every day and pretend that i don’t. i’m sorry that that’s all i can give you. no wonder, huh?

[floristin]

[dramoor]

“If there is anywhere on earth a lover of God who is always kept safe, I know nothing of it, for it was not shown to me. But this was shown: that in falling and rising again we are always kept in that same precious love.”

~Julian of Norwich 

(Image via Interruptingthesilence.com)

[carebearskull]

caustic

volatile and hurtful.

don’t touch me, i’ll burn you.

people like me, babe,

are not meant for a beautiful world.

it’s all

bugs in the shower

sleeping on the kitchen floor

10 shots deep, faking humanity.

looking you in the eyes

like you could see i’m a scared animal.

beneath the wreckage,

at the end of the day.

you and i in the same fucking place.

we talk about moving back home.

talk about your son.

buying a mobile home up north

and diy-inh showers

for hypothetical daughters.

lukewarm water from the kitchen sink.

mud tracked across the floor.

dirty boots,

bed sheets cleaner than heaven.

parts of this place i have carved for myself.

little burn holes in your picturesque world.

smoking cigarettes in your parents living room.

acting like i have no excuse to feel

the way that i do.

turning a shoebox into a studio.

asking if i can repaint the walls.

saying that the lines on the paint

feel like teeth.

like i’m being swallowed up.

trying, forever fucking trying

to replace someone

who doesn’t need to be replaced.

paint over me like

blue stains on the wall from my hair.

cover me like uneven carpet,

closet skeletons masquerading as people.

text your girls about how

i put you through hell.

tell me, how is my suffering yours?

you don’t own me.

i am not some housepet

locked in your room.

left to riptearpull the stuffing from pillows.

you look at me and you see:

person.

girl-

condescending creature.

the type of sadness that isn’t quite poetic enough.

just a little too visceral to be beautiful.

smeared blood around my mouth

like a kid at their first birthday.

dark circles that Will Not fade.

you miss all of that.

you see a sick body, sicker mind.

frail being,

collection of shiny trinkets and addictions.

wounds that do not heal.

a mouth that will not speak.

i keep asking myself

what i must do to be seen.

like it’s some kind of sacrifice to ask.

like it’s a burden to you

for the bare minimum.

[lucyfishwife]

Sometimes filters make you look how you actually feel, in this case "how i feel after being made to go outside in the sunshine and now i am genuinely ready to kill the next person who says how lovely it is to be outside in the sunshine". I am indoors in the dark so it's all good

[gods-blade]

"The cell of enclosure, however, was equated with a prison, into which the anchorite propelled himself for fear of hell and for love of Christ. The eternal punishment of hell might be escaped by the lifetime refusal of escape from the anchorhold. At the same time, union with Christ might be achieved even in this life." — A. K. Warren (1985)

[ancientstuff]

Some viable reasons for why this anchorite might have had syphilis are given, which is good.

[momoguido]

I know that I would go insane if I actually had to live as an anchorite.

So why does it still appeal to me so much?

[cora-illus]

Some Ninth House facepaint lore/design headcanons I drew up while working on my last piece :]

[diduthinkihadforgotten]

i say to no one in particular:

“i need you to do what you say,”

“i need you to listen”

“please say you can hear me”

you’d rather go deaf.

selective hearing-

Darkroom silence.

i sit by myself on the floor.

equal distance from everyone.

holding you all at arms length

as if i ever had anything to hide.

i’m an open book,

not written in your language, apparently.

or maybe no one can read.

maybe i just write too much.

balls deep in my own skull.

writing in the Language of Eden.

going stir crazy-

making friends with shadow walls

and hidden figures.

you say i must be having some kind of secret affair. it’s all your own smoke and mirrors. you’ve deluded yourself beyond what my brain twists and turns every day.

nobody knows my terrible secret.

3 people on the planet know about tiny eyes- and corner hallways. he reminds me that it’s smoke and mirrors.

i put on the show anyway. i play the game because there’s nothing left to do. waiting for checkmate.

but you’re playing checkers.

[dramoor]

“God, of your goodness, give me yourself; you are enough for me, and anything less that I could ask for would not do you full honour. And if I ask anything that is less, I shall always lack something, but in you alone I have everything.”

~Julian of Norwich

(Image via sacredstream.org)