throughconstellationeyes - Tumblr blog

[throughconstellationeyes]

“They think I’ve never experienced pain in my life, for I’ve stopped telling stories from my past, in hopes that one day I’ll forget the traumas, and in the mean time, I’ve learned to wear my scars so well that they’ve become invisible to everyone, save for myself.”

— V.I.P.P.

[throughconstellationeyes]

[throughconstellationeyes]

the world needs you

for the stranger you have a kind heart and wild spirit a mind full of pictures and ideas rooted in your spirit you hold stars on your fingertips i only hope, my dear that you continue to grasp the interesting concept that you need not be any more than yourself and i, i am proud of you dear, kind stranger please continue on continue speaking the words that flow from your spirit the world needs to hear them

most of all, the world needs you.

h.rae | universalmemoir

for @badgalpratibha, my #pssecretsanta. i wish you all the best this year. <3

[throughconstellationeyes]

“The best thing about the bedroom was the bed. I liked to stay in bed for hours, even during the day with covers pulled up to my chin. It was good in there, nothing ever occurred in there, no people, nothing.”

— Charles Bukowski (via quotemadness)

[throughconstellationeyes]

[throughconstellationeyes]

“You’re not in love with me, not really, you just love the way I always made you feel. Like you were the centre of my world. Because you were. I would have done anything for you.”

— Abby McDonald (via quotemadness)

[throughconstellationeyes]

feng shui the art of / moving the love letters i / wrote out of my chest

haiku gifted to @drearydaffodil

[throughconstellationeyes]

[throughconstellationeyes]

“I love you, with a touch of tragedy and quite madly.”

— Simone de Beauvoir (via quotemadness)

[throughconstellationeyes]

“I would like to explode, flow, crumble into dust, and my disintegration would be my masterpiece.” - Emil Cioran, On the Heights of Despair (via the-book-diaries)

[throughconstellationeyes]

[throughconstellationeyes]

“What if I slept a little more and forgot about all this nonsense.”

— Franz Kafka (via quotemadness)

[throughconstellationeyes]

“maybe she was magic, he thought to himself when she spun around in the glow of the neon lights, her face shining brighter than the stars. he never got tired of watching her smile. maybe there was a lot more to her than she let on, more than she showed even her closest friends. more than she’d ever shown him. stories lurked in the corners of her mouth, and fire raged in her chest. but not for him. every time they talked to each other now, her guard was up and he couldn’t blame her for it. for her slow smile and her darting eyes, for her distrust and her fear. mind, she’d always been careful. hesitant. on the verge of spilling secrets, of saying too much, of making a fool of herself, but in the end she’d always taken a step back. caught herself again and returned to the game whose rules she knew by heart. looking back, he wished she’d lost control, just once. wished she’d screamed at him, shaking her fists and saying things she’d regret. but she’d always kept it in, always avoided confrontation and let him win. she was one of the people that made you realise what you’d lost only when they’d walked out of the door, leaving no trace behind but the smell of their perfume that still stuck to his sheets. suddenly every room seemed a bit darker, every conversation a little less animated, every laugh a tad forced. missing her felt like trying to fill a hole back up with water only to discover that the hole was bottomless. an abyss that refused to be closed. that couldn’t be bridged. things got infinitely worse whenever he saw her face to face, whenever he saw that she was happy without him, that she was glowing like the sun itself - and that she’d learnt how to feel this way without him. she’d lost him, but she’d found herself, and he couldn’t help thinking that he wasn’t what she wanted anymore. maybe she was magic, he thought glumly, even though she wasn’t his. he couldn’t deny it.”

— about her #7 maybe she was magic / n.j.

[throughconstellationeyes]

[throughconstellationeyes]

Day One Thousand One Hundred Sixty Two.

roiling

toiling

boiling slowly

wondering why suddenly

this feels wrong

[throughconstellationeyes]

He falls out of love with me while he stirs his tea

I wonder how many days it took us to fall in love

And I wonder how many nights it took to undo that first date

How many slow dances in his apartment, drunk off of wine and Jeff Buckley albums

For us to realize the music sounded better alone

Or with someone else

-a.a.

[throughconstellationeyes]