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Updates on my ricer

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instagram : thetypewriterdaily

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It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the sound I heard when I was 9 and my father slammed the front door so hard behind him, I swear to god it shook the whole house. For the next 3 years, I watched my mother break her teeth on vodka bottles. I think she stopped breathing when he left. I think part of her died. I think he took her heart with him when he walked out. Her chest is empty, just a shattered mess of cracked ribs and depression pills.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s all the blood in the sink. It’s the night that I spent 12 hours in the emergency room waiting to see if my sister was going to be okay, after the boy she loved, told her he didn’t love her anymore. It’s the crying, and the fluorescent lights, and white sneakers and pale faces and shaky breaths and blood.

So much blood.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the time that I had to stay up for two days straight with my best friend while she cried and shrieked and threw up on my bedroom floor because her boyfriend fucked his ex. I swear to god, she still has tear streaks stained onto her cheeks. I think when you love someone, it never really goes away.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s the six weeks we had a substitute in English because our teacher was getting divorced and couldn’t handle getting out of bed. When she came back, she was smiling. But her hands shook so hard when she held her coffee, you could see that something was broken inside. And sometimes when things break, you can’t fix them. Nothing ever goes back to how it was. I got an A in English that year. I think her head was always spinning too hard to read any essays.

It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s that I do.

Unknown

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Some photos I took the other day with cute friends by me Lana :-)

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So now tell me how your story goes

Have you ever suffered?

If so, did you get better or have you never quite recovered from it?

Did you find your lover laying in your bedroom with another and then

Did you let it hover over you and everything else well after the fact? Show me all your bruises. I know everybody wears them

They broadcast the pain - how you hurt, how you reacted

Did cancer take your child?

Did your father have a heart attack?

Have you had a moment force the whole heart to grow or retract?

Or just shrink?

Does the heart shrink?

Tell me everything

Tell me everything you know

Were you told as a child how cruel the whole world could be?

Did anybody ever tell you that?

Tell me what your purpose is

Who it was that put you here and why?

Did anybody really put you here at all?

And what of those necessities?

Like how to cope with tragedy and pain?

Did anybody ever show you how?

When it hits will my heart burst or break or grow strong?

Is there really only one way to know now?

I’m not sure if I’m ready yet to find out the hard way

How strong I am, what I’m made of

I’m not sure I am ready yet to walk through the fire

I’m not sure I can handle it

Do you think if the heart keeps on shrinking

One day there will be no heart at all?

And how long does it take?

Am I better off just bursting or breaking?

Cause I don’t see my heart getting strong

Tell your stories to me

Show your bruises

Let’s see what humanity is capable of handling

She lost her kid, only seven, to cancer

She answered with faith in her God and carried on

While he was attacked by his son and was stabbed in his stomach and his back and his arms

He showed me scars

82 years old, told me, “I still have my daughter and my wife

And I still have my life and my son.”

Tell me what your worst fears are

I bet they look a lot like mine

Tell me what you think about when you can’t fall asleep at night

Tell me that you’re struggling

Tell me that you’re scared

No, tell me that you’re terrified of life

Tell me that it’s difficult to not think of death sometimes

Tell me how you lost

Tell me how he left

Tell me how she left

Tell me how you lost everything that you had

Tell me it ain’t ever coming back

Tell me about God

Tell me about love

Tell me that it’s all of the above

Say you think of everything in fear

I bet you’re not the only one who does

La dispute

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No Good // Knuckle Puck

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The mask of serial killer Dennis Rader (Bind Torture Kill or The B.T.K Strangler).  

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Nuclear Test Dummies

Used in the 1950s during nuclear bomb testing. These were used before the development of the hydrogen bomb, which was much more powerful.

It’s the fact that, these dummies lay torn in half admist the debris of their own bodies with smiles on their faces, that makes these images so creepy.

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Put in a good effort every single day, and little by little you’ll get to where you want to go. You must not give up. Keep at it, and you’ll get to where your heart lies.

Nicole Addison @thepowerwithin | Instagram