theacheofbeing

[theacheofbeing]

That moment when the future finally looks bright. And it's full of happiness. And you're smiling, and you feel guilty, guilty of having a life of joy when you know in the back of your mind that someone is probably struggling.

[theacheofbeing]

But you MUST break this fixation on love as the cure to all of your ills. If you found love right now, you would run it straight into the ground in seconds.

In the long run, you will find love. Right now...you need to sign up for art classes, dance classes, yoga, or cooking classes-or all of the above.

You need to be active and be around people, all kinds of different people, young and old. You need to practice accepting yourself, with all of your quirks, in the company of other human beings. You need to be open to the world around you.

You need to move through the world by listening to other people, without trying to prove that you're good enough for them. Just exist and be your shy self.

Have lunch, have coffee, and continue to work hard on the things that won't dry up and blow away:

Your health, your career, your little art projects or poems or essays, your odd new half-interests, the complicated folds of your sensitivity and your darkness, and your belief in a world that wants you to be happy.

from Heather Havrilesky's response to an Ask Polly letter, published in The Awl

[theacheofbeing]

Everytime the frustration dissipates, obsession surfaces, along with deep yearn for something raw, feral and possesive. It wants to consume. It won't stop until it consumes. Until the skins are upturned and blood flows, until the nail marks are imprinted like holy scriptures, until I feel the tender heart beating against mine, until my soul knows only one rhythm, until I completely consume, or let myself get consumed.

Just holding her close isn't enough, I want to merge completely, until we imprint on each other. I want to rip my flesh and offer it to her. I want to sink my teeth in her skin so deep, that I feel her pulse beat against mine, then I want to run my tongue so tenderly, that it sends a shiver. I want to look at her like she's my lifeline and worship her body with my lips, and remember her outline with my fingertips.

While all the time, she hears whispers from my lips that say— mine, mine, mine, mine.

[theacheofbeing]

being here can fix me

[theacheofbeing]

Love exists all around us,

sometimes cloaked in magic.

[theacheofbeing]

Hi!

Call Me Daz.

I am bisexual/demisexual, 22, she/her.

I like books, I like poetry, I like art and I like everything beautiful and graceful. I also like reading manhwas, watching anime, playing games, and journalling. But at the same time I like everything mysterious, occult, dark and unsettling.

Basically, I am freaking adaptable.

Dreamer, Thinker, Believer, Philosopher

Inbox is open for writing requests, or if you want to be friends. Just don't be a creep because I love using the block button!

I also like to isolate from time to time, hence my posts are divinely guided blessings mwah <3

[theacheofbeing]

i can’t wait to tell you all the things i’m dying to do with you

and the things i’m dying to do to you

the way i’m craving to make you feel,

so so entirely loved

i can’t wait to do them

i can’t wait to do them

[theacheofbeing]

𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔟𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔢

[theacheofbeing]

My favourite

𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔫

[theacheofbeing]

cant stop thinking about this this was sooo crazyyyyy

[theacheofbeing]

Mood today

[theacheofbeing]

[theacheofbeing]

I’ve replayed it over and over again—the same scene, the same room you walked out of. Each time, I imagined myself stronger, more composed, full of words I never said. Words that came from hurt, from anger. Words I hoped would make you pause, make you feel something. Maybe even regret. Maybe you’d finally understand how much you meant to me. That what I wanted wasn’t what you were giving. That your idea of love never quite touched the place where I was bleeding.

In those rehearsals, I let myself believe I’d express it all. I’d be furious. Cold, even. You’d see the fire in my eyes, and maybe—just maybe—you’d cry. Maybe you'd finally understand what it cost me to love you.

But the moment you reached out to me, everything I built inside crumbled. My heart trembled like it belonged to someone far more fragile than I dared admit. Your touch felt like a gentle caress to a wounded child, and even though I kept whispering to myself to stay strong, my body betrayed me. My hands pushed you away, but not out of strength. Out of fear. Out of love. Out of too much feeling I couldn’t hold in anymore.

I still ached for you.

My voice wanted to crack. My eyes nearly gave me away.

I was one breath away from breaking right there in front of you.

I wanted to hold you.

More than I wanted to be right. More than I wanted to win.

Why do you keep doing this to me?

Why do you show up in ways that almost feel right, but never enough to make me stay?

Can’t you see what I’m asking for?

[theacheofbeing]

You really can't define love.

[theacheofbeing]

A painting, most ardently