i wish i could tree!!

And after a long time the boy came back again.
“I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree, “but I have nothing left to give you-
My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak for apples,” said the boy.
“My branches are gone,” said the tree.
“You cannot swing on them-”
“I am too old to swing on branches,” said the boy.
“My trunk is gone,” said the tree.
“You cannot climb-”
“I am too tired to climb,” said the boy.
“I am sorry,” sighed the tree.
“I wish that I could give you something… but I have nothing left. I am an old stump. I am sorry…”
“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy, “just a quiet pleace to sit and rest. I am very tired.”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could,
“well, an old stump is a good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
—  Shel Silverstein // The Giving Tree
languish is like anguish with words

my world slipped in to a hush tonight. clarified.
i wish i were a tree frog or
a gnat. i wish
i could live and easily be done with life.
hope may be the worst thing that has ever happened to me.
im like a day lily that
someone unthinkingly plucks and
places in a vase.
the day a little red crab skittered
under my shoe to
protect itself from me,
on that day
i felt awake and happy.
the way god ignores me
i almost believe

Summary of Vessel
  • Ode to Sleep: Power beat w/ strangely catchy techno vibes
  • Holding Onto You: Cutesy tune with poetic lyrics
  • Migraine: 103820% relatable. Sounds v happy but has darker lyrics
  • House of Gold: Reassuring and pacifying, comforting.
  • Car Radio: THE SONG THAT SENT FUCKING CHILLS UP EVERYONE'S SPINE and made us think very deeply
  • Semi-Automatic: We are not okay and we are living on
  • Screen: Actually rlly cute with great lyrics
  • The Run And Go: Those with secrets and those who keep things to themselves will relate
  • Fake You Out: Go-to song if you feel isolated due to your problems
  • Guns For Hands: Tyler loves you and doesn't want you to hurt yourselves. Be like that.
  • Trees: I wish I could know you
  • Truce: The song that makes you curl up into a ball and cry because it's so beautiful + go-to if you're afraid and lost
100 Ways (Part 3)

A/N: This drabble series is inspired by p0ck3tf0x’s list One Hundred Ways to Say ‘I Love You’.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Drabble series chronicling your relationship with Bucky, from awkward teammates to friends, to… well, you know.

Word count: 398

< previous, next >

You come stumbling to a halt, panting heavily. You hear Sam skid to a stop behind you and feel his hand on your shoulder. Turning around to look at him, you smile weakly and say, “They don’t really expect us to keep up, do they?”

Keep reading

4

Sophia and Stephen talking prep for Brooke and Chase’s first kiss [x]

One Tree Hill was really white. But geographically, I can understand. It takes place in fictional Tree Hill, NC. It was also very heterosexual, but they introduced a bisexual character in a later season. The plot was compelling, the acting was strong. The characters were well written, but that’s not why I recommend binge watching it on Netflix if you’ve never seen it. I 20/10 recommend One Tree Hill because of the strictly platonic friendship between Haley James and Lucas Scott. It is one of the best friendships I have even seen portrayed and most importantly, it’s between a boy and a girl and there’s zero romantic undercurrent. A++

Good Story

It appears I broke my wrist here in Puerto Rico.

Sucks, yes.

A woman I met in the hotel elevator asked if at least I had a good story.

No, I told her. The worst.

I tripped in the lounge of our hotel and jammed my wrist into the base of a marble cabinet. Not a good story, unless you like the mundane and embarrassing.

This was followed by a taxi trip to the ER and lots of waiting in a grim florescent waiting room while a small TV playing a Spanish infomercial for Hair Club for Men looped. The doctor eventually saw me, ordered an Xray, followed by more waiting, which was followed by more waiting to get it wrapped badly in an old-timey plaster cast.

I told the woman in the elevator that I wished I could tell her I collided with a tree while ziplining or fell off my bike training for the Ironman. That would have been a good story, with me a fearless badass, instead of a clumsy lady with wrists that are no match for marble. She laughed.

I went my room to tap this out with my one working hand (thankfully my right) because somewhere in the telling of it I realized that good or not, I did have a story.

I always wish I could live under a canopy of trees. Things are much softer and prettier when you’re looking up at light filtering through trees. It’s just not a practical place to live, you know. Not for me. 

I am on a train at seven in the morning. I am watching the sun bleed gold from the far end of the east and remembering your words. The smile at the far end of your eyes. The laughter at the far end of your lips. The dawn is new again every morning above the soundless fields of lavender and wheat. How does it feel to appear in the sea-sky, the gentle blue, like a flashing coin? Sometimes I think you do that to me. The train passes a grove of birches. I wish I could dissolve into them. A hermit, a tree-dweller, a wood nymph: I could disappear and never return. And yet the thought of you quietens me; I hear the waves breaking in my throat for you. I step out of the sunlit birch copse for you. The gold illuminates my silhouette; I am a stillness for you.  

Art

Request: fluff where gerard teaches you to paint and you suck but it’s v cute

“You’re way too good at painting Gee, that’s amazing!” I beamed as I watched him paint a tree. He smiled, looking over the canvas he was leaning against the tour bus.

“It’s not that good,” he shrugged simply. “Just a quick out line of a tree.”

“I wish I could paint like that.”

“You can.”

“No I can’t.’

“yes, you can. Everyone can paint.”

“Not me, I suck at art.”

“Bullshit, anyone can make art. You just need to practice.”

“Now that is some bullshit,” I scoffed, ruffling the blonde highlights in his hair. “I took an art class and I still suck dick.” 

“You definitely do,” he smirked slyly.

“Shut up, i’m talking about painting,” I giggled, pushing his shoulder.

“I’m serious though y/n, everyone can draw. Here. i’ll teach you.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Don’t you have a show in like half an hour?”

“Yep, but this is my priority right now.”

“As riveting as an art lesson in the parking lot sounds, I think i’m gonna have to pass.”

“Y/n, come on. I want you to know you can do it.”

“Fine, but i’m warning now, i’m awful.”


“That looks great! It’s a…well it’s um…”

“A cat.” I looked up at him, holding back a laugh at his flustered expression.

“Oh yeah! Of course! It’s awesome!” he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly at the orange blob.

“It’s okay, Gee. I know it’s awful,” I laughed. I knew any drawing I would attempt to do would look horrible, so I already had practically no standards for myself.

“well I mean, it’s not perfect…but we can add some shading here and highlight the more dominant features on a cat to make it stand out. Like, we can add more detail to the tail right here-”

“That’s a leg.”

“What?”

“That’s a leg, not a tail.”

“Why is it all the way up here?” He gasped, looking slightly horrified at my placement.

“Face it Gee, i’m a lost cause.”

“No no no, we can work with this.”

“Give it up!”

“Never! We’re gong to make you the best artist ever if it kills me. Or…at least able to draw a cat.” I watched as he went over my painting, slimming down the shape and adding details to it. I dipped my finger in one of the blobs of paint on his pallet, bopping his nose lightly.

“Tag!” I giggled at his out raged expression. He smirked mischievously and grabbed another brush.

“You’re gonna pay for that!” I didn’t learn much art that day, but it was worth it. Watching Gerard try to perform casually, covered in paint splatters was the most hilarious thing I’ve ever seen.

Maybe my purpose in life is what I once thought it was; trying to learn everything, even while accepting the impossibility of that goal. I just wish that I could retain sight of the forest through the trees.