Russian Meteor Strike, February 2013
"An artist should avoid falling in love with another artist.
An artist should avoid falling in love with another artist.
An artist should avoid falling in love with another artist."
Marina Ambromovic (via ghostcardiology)
Omg this was my childhood
i did all of this aw
I was walking with my mom yesterday. The sky was slate gray, shifting and murmuring. She was telling me about her day, how she had a small breakdown at work. I watched a puppy prance across the road and try to nip at the hem of my dress. I wished so much I could be like my mama. Someone who cries when they’re sad or stressed, and laughs when they’re happy.
Don’t ever bury your emotions. I do. It hurts. My daddy has cancer. I heard the doctor, and I folded up his words to keep for later.
It’s like a termite. It worms through your emotions, so far down you can’t feel or see it anymore. And it goes to sleep, and you forget about it. And when -not if, when- it starts to grow, starts to make you hurt, you can’t even remember what it is.
It’ll settle in your stomach. And you’ll never be hungry, because of the gnawing worry that lives there. Even when your jeans and blouses don’t fit anymore, you can’t help it, you can’t deal with it, you can’t eat; you don’t remember why you’re hurting.
I know it’s there. But I can’t feel it anymore.
I don’t know how to get it out.
can I say something?
I’m really tired of skinny jeans. It’s tragic that America is going through an obesity crisis and a skinny jean fad simultaneously. And neon-painted nails, I would never wear that; I don’t care how popular they are. They’re not bad, but personally I don’t like them. If you like it, then by all means keep on painting.
I’m 18. I have to fall asleep with pillows on the bed, and then I throw them to the floor somewhere around 2:00 AM. I grew up with adults kindly tugging on my curls because they’re springy. I can’t stand that. It’s not a pride thing, I just really can’t stand it. It’s probably wrong, but it’s like nails on a chalk board to me.
By 10:00 PM I’m a zombie stalking around the house in shorts and a tank top, with no makeup and hair in a messy bun. I hate tomatoes, but I love ketchup. I have an obsession with fireworks.
"I used to cringe at pictures of myself because I didn’t look like the woman I wanted to be. Now I realize that the woman I wanted to be was someone who didn’t cringe at her own pictures of herself."