spilled wiring

Often, I feel that I disappoint too many people for not being able to accept my full potential. Of failing to see myself through their eyes. Of not acknowledging my worth because I’ve been told many times long ago, that I wasn’t worth the effort by the wrong people. For many years, I’ve held myself accountable for all the poor choices done towards me shoving aside my need for reassurance, and dealing with the guilt of not being enough. For years, I believed that I had to apologize to people for what they thought of me. And now I’m finally learning that I need to forgive myself for that. I need to learn to forgive myself for feeling bad that other people can’t appreciate me for what I am.
—  Keen Malasarte, Only when I learn to love myself, will they value me. And I’m not really sure how long that’s going to take.
I'll Tell You A Thousand Lies

I’ll tell you a thousand lies
I’ll tell you a thousand times
That I’m fine; I don’t need you
I’m just walking on fragile lines

The hurt in my eyes
From a bitter past
A lifetime ago
But the memories still last

These lines that I walk
Are fragile and thin
I’m building up my walls
So no one can get it


you knew me as the romantic idealist
in love with love, with hope, with you
green eyes gleaming, glistening with mischief
(sometimes all our bad just felt so good)
spilling truths against wired fences
fishing for facts over the phone, oceans apart
(those weeks felt like lifetimes; that full moon
in rome, in toronto, in waiting)
we ruled a secret universe
our personal collection of the cosmos
we saw, we had, we were
a tangled mess of limbs of flesh of bone
(found a portal in your mouth)
I was a sentimental fool then
ever since the apocalypse (it’s been years)
punctured holes; hallowed heart
I destroyed all I was, all you knew
there’s nothing left of me now
to offer you


I took a look at this ‘77 cordoba today, it could’ve been a wonderful car, but a lo-jo got to it first.
The suspension was hacked, wiring was spilling out from under the dash, and he couldn’t even tell me if it was a 318 or a 360.
To anyone who does end up buying this, good luck.

One of the most famous and awe-inspiring . . . I went here first thing. The Hagia Sophia. I studied the structure many times: imagine traveling to what was imagined, turning a corner and seeing it in the distance, walking up while the people disappeared and it finally becomes real—it—an idea, which either meets expectations or is different—my idea of what this place was from texts and photos was not grand enough. I walked inside, looked up, and rose away from bustling crowd of people around me. Perhaps I even shrunk down under that massive dome. We all looked like turk-eys staring up into the sky, but the sky wasn’t filled with rain. The sky of the Hagia Sophia was filled with ornate mosaics illuminated by small arched holes, spilling with white. Thin wires hung down from 55meters (180 feet) and stopped only 9 feet from the ground, grasping large chandeliers that stretched out with warm orange bulbs overhead.

Let me just put this into perspective. The Hagia Sophia, now retired, was built in 537 A.D. That is, roughly, 1,400 years ago rounded down. Our oldest buildings in America? Only around 400 years. The Hagia Sophia had worn many faces under many different rulers and is still one of the largest mosque’s in Turkey (based on the dome). It may seem sad that this structure was changed so much; Islam mosaics were added and minarets-the towers around mosque’s to illuminate and broadcast daily prayers-were built, but I would find that after leaving Istanbul, which I will get to soon, that the exact same church style was built in Belgrade. In Belgrade, I was able to see what the Hagia Sophia, without Turkish influence, would have presumably looked like under the Greeks. Let’s just say that they improved the Hagia Sophia in some ways. Enough history, let’s just admire the thing! ^^