knobby-knees

There were always warning signs but you were blinded by hope and and thoughts like, ‘Maybe this time it’ll be different’. You chose to stay inside a burning building until the smoke became too thick to clear and the foundation began to crack. But now it was time to get yourself out.

No one tells you, though, that trying to move on is a kind of death that you inflict upon yourself. People always make it sound so easy, as if by emptying the stuff in your house, you can empty yourself of the love you still feel.

The memories you have like to coddle you. Laughter and late nights drunk on the feeling of being young and infatuated. They deposited in you the way sand deposits onto wet summer skin. They stick on you in the most unconventional places, underneath fingernails and knobby knees. But you let them stay because it reminds you of how you were once in the water and the sun was beating on your neck.

You now know that was how you ruin yourself.

Before the word us turned into something singular, everything had already changed. You look back, really look back, and you see that he is not the same. And neither are you. So you release the fists clenching onto the past and you take off your rose-colored glasses.

You used to mistake the silhouette on the wall for yourself. Used to think of yourself as a stray cat scratching on his door, waiting to be let in again. Not anymore.

It takes time for you to realize that your life with him is not juxtaposed. It’s not as simple as a before and after. He is just a detour on your journey. The destination is still there, waiting for you.

When you finally let go, it is like opening your front door and seeing yourself standing there again.

Welcome home, it’s been so long.

—  Tina TranThe art of letting go 

@ boys: it’s ok to have that chub on your stomach and fat that pokes out on your hips. its ok to be able to count your ribs and see your hip bones. its ok to have a bigger chest than other ppl around u. its ok if you have tiny ankles and knobby knees and thin arms. it’s ok if u have fat arms and jiggly legs and stretch marks somewhere. u are beautiful no matter what kind of body u have and u arent any less of a boy bc of it

Essays in Existentialism: Gold

Could u do one where Lexa and Clarke are both very well known athletes competing at the olympics , both are expected to win gold in their respective sports. Maybe they get together and the media finds out.

“Okay, okay, just one,” Clarke smiles and holds the phone of the fans waiting outside the hotel. She snaps a picture and hands it back. “Okay, one more. You’re going to make me late, and they aren’t going to hold the plane.”

Keep reading

I think people see Jason as far too old when he died. He was fifteen. Do you know what fifteen year olds look like? Even if they’re considered “dreamboats” by their peers, they still have squishy kid faces. They still look like colts with long limbs and knobby knees. His shoulders were probably broad, but he still had to grow into them. 

My point is, Jason was a child. And by disregarding that important element, it erases much of his core characterization. It’s almost like shielding the Joker from the heinous actions he committed. He is a child killer. 

Jason is only nineteen now. That’s a year older than the legal age. This poor boy reached out for love and got broken glass shoved down his throat instead. 

Blood and rust and angry tears. These things make up Jason Todd, murdered child. 

3

“He’s to marry Arya Stark. My little sister.” Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him.

I think one of my issues with the current point in the body positive movement (on the drawing/art side) is that it tends to focus on either “large” or “skinny,” but everything else is more or less proportioned the same (especially in female characters)

So like, the default is a thin girl with a narrow waist and wider hips, and then the body-positive-version is a larger girl with a narrow waist and large hips/butt. In some cases, the waist is almost the same even, and the stomach’s still flat. But like…the entire body is dynamic and interesting, and variation can occur not just in terms of fat deposits around the hips. What about wider shoulders? Boxier torso? Thicker arms? Round bellies? Narrow hips? Knobby knees? Flat butts? Even just bad posture? 

2

“Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton’s bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she’ll fight him. “

I sometimes wonder if your soul mate isn’t that soft, smiling boy in your english class, or that blue eyed enigma who holds the door open and stares at you, oozing promises. I wonder if your soulmate can’t be the girl with once knobby knees who laughs over a scribbled on starbucks cup at 3 in the afternoon when you tell her about that boy in your english class and how he read keats in a voice that meant you just knew

i think that maybe you can let a person see so much of the inside of you that no romanticism or purple flowers in purple vases could ever come close to the way your spirit matches the bright pink color that bursts forth from your best friend’s chest when she talks about the thing that she loves more than anything, more than you can imagine.

I wonder why it is that, 300 miles away from the place where she is, lying in a too small bed and staring at a too bare ceiling, you can ache, not for romance or for home, but for the way you felt those times when it was just you and her and you were staring down the whole wide world and you felt like there was nothing you could ever need besides someone like this.

what if everything is wrong and, while we’re all looking for soulmates were missing the fact that theyre sitting right beside us when were crying our eyes out on a concrete floor and floating with us when our insides seem to balloon up like kites in midsummer.

truly truly i think everyones missing the point of soulmates which isnt to enchant your heart and bear you up on heart shaped clouds, but to peer into the cavern in your chest and stay there.

—  i wrote this at 2:32 am with tears soaking my cheeks 

Listen to: Knobby Knees by Oats

I asked about the scar on your shoulder 
You said, “Life could get stupid sometimes." 
And I knew what you meant 
& you continued to press your head into mine. 

You held me close to your body 
so we left the party and I fell more 
with each glimpse I caught of your blue eyes 
in the streetlight that looked like moonlight. 

I don’t know you but I know I like you 
& I don’t know you but I know I’d like to. 

We laid close all night in your bedroom 
and fell asleep as the sun came up, 
But we didn’t sleep for more than a few hours 
because the birds outside your windows they woke us up. 

I’d fall asleep every couple of minutes 
surprised when I awoke 
to your hands tracing the shape of my bones, 
I’d gotten so used to waking up alone. 

I don’t know know you but I know I like you 
& I don’t know know you but I know I’d like to.