oh my fucking goddess
wordsnquotes
“Do it from the heart or not at all.”
— Jeanette Winterson, The Passion
Source: wordsnquotes.com
coral
I’ll remember you everyday and everywhere because you’ve occupied everything in my life.
Typewriter Series #2277 by Tyler Knott Gregson
Text for Tired Eyes:
I can’t do the suit and tie life, I can’t do the leather shoes shined like a mirror, it won’t hold my reflection. I can’t do the yes ma'am no sir right away boss nonsense, I can’t breathe the air from a square made three dimensional. No clicking clacking pitter patter of fingers tapping across the dance floor of a keyboard, crumbs sticking on the J key, left shift broken. I’m all out of khaki, no dress shirts suffocate under the thin plastic the dry cleaners so graciously give you. I never found a numbered tag littering the floor of my closet, never smelled the chemicals.
Will it end me, some day? Will I be strangled by the red tape I never had to cut, smashed down by the pressure of some 401K I never poured money into, the matching funds no employer ever made? More weight, I would yell, defiant against the witch trials of adulthood. More weight.
My jeans fray at the knees, at the pockets from hands stuffed into them, my t-shirts are not as white as they once were. The only shoes I know to wear are worn thin, a hole at the toe, no leather to speak of, they still carry the mud from where I’ve wandered.
I can’t do the suit and tie life, it hangs me from the rafters of an attic I cannot imagine. I will not sacrifice the wilder parts of me, they speak a language I just barely understand.
-Tyler Knott Gregson-
Source: instagram.com
Patience
Patience and Love agreed to meet at a set time and place; beneath the twenty-third tree in the olive orchard. Patience arrived promptly and waited. She checked her watch every so often but still, there was no sign of Love.
Was it the twenty-third tree or the fifty-sixth? She wondered and decided to check, just in case. As she made her way over to the fifty-sixth tree, Love arrived at twenty-three, where Patience was noticeably absent.
Love waited and waited before deciding he must have the wrong tree and perhaps it was another where they were supposed to meet.
Meanwhile, Patience had arrived at the fifty-sixth tree, where Love was still nowhere to be seen.
Both begin to drift aimlessly around the olive orchard, almost meeting but never do.
Finally, Patience, who was feeling lost and resigned, found herself beneath the same tree where she began. She stood there for barely a minute when there was a tap on her shoulder.
It was Love.
Lang Leav
Three Questions What was it like to love him? asked Gratitude. It was like being exhumed, I answered. And brought to life in a flash of brilliance. What was it like to be loved in return? asked Joy. It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness, I replied. To be heard after a lifetime of silence. What was it like to lose him? asked Sorrow. There was a long pause before I responded: It was like hearing every good-bye ever said to me—said all at once.
Lang Leav
coral
“I confess I do not know why, but looking at the stars always makes me dream.”
—
Vincent van Gogh
(via adrenaline)