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letters to myself

@unteathered-blog

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500lettersforyou
You know when you want to hate someone, I mean really god damn be sickened by the mention of their name and make your stomach turn inside out by the thought of their existence - type of hate. Because you should, you should hate the person who came into your life like a tornado and completely destroyed everything, of course you should hate the person who made your pillow soaked from the amount tears you wept while trying to fall asleep but their name was tattooed on your mind which made it almost impossible to close your eyes without picturing their face. You should hate them but you can’t and you probably never will, that’s the shit thing about love, that’s the side you never see advertised. The kind that sucks you in, kicks you to the curb and leaves you there, completely and utterly infatuated with someone who probably doesn’t even remember your middle name anymore.

Beautiful tragedies // Excerpt of a book I’ll never write (via 500lettersforyou)

Utterly broken. Completely infatuated

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especiallypeaches
People have told me I don’t seem the same lately, and I suppose I’m not, but I’d never tell them that. I offer them silence and a smile and leave them to their own assumptions.

(via especiallypeaches)

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hellholeglory
“I’m scared,” she whispers in his ear as they hug goodbye, again, for the fifth time now. He lets go of her, worried look on his face, “of what?” and his voice is already blurry in he memory. “That at this point, it’s not enough to love you anymore. Like it doesn’t matter how often I say it or how much I mean it or how badly I miss you, this is beyond saving. We… we are beyond saving.” The world squeezed in between our bodies, our hands, our voices and our lives, and it’s expanding with every breath we take and the love we have can only make up for so much of it, she thinks, but she doesn’t say, because she’s already breaking him and there’s no use in trying to turn it into something beautiful. He looks down, he looks at his car in the driveway, he looks at her apartment, the neighbor’s garden, the sky, anywhere but at her. This is why you don’t want to come back sometimes, because some people (the right people) are too decent to dump you over the phone and you have to stand there and keep it together in front of them and then drive away knowing it’s the last time you were ever the same in this place. This is why. “I don’t want to leave,” (and never come back) he says. He can’t keep the heaviness out of his words, and she can’t keep the tears in her heart. She nods, buries her face in his shoulder just one last time for a moment that should be an eternity and then they say goodbye, again, and he almost laughs because when they said it five minutes ago it still meant something completely different and now it just means this is it it was all for nothing the world fucked you over just like you always knew it would are you happy now?

You were right (via hellholeglory)

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twisted-melancholy
it comes back in waves; there are times when i think i’ll be fine without you and then there are times when the night is long and lonely and i find myself missing you more than words can describe. tonight seems like one of those nights, unfortunately.

#56 / 9 october 2016 (via twisted-melancholy)

But tomorrow, tomorrow will not be one of those days. Because maybe my soul is finally free

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oceans
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untamedunwanted
Some people are born with tornados in their lives, but constellations in their eyes. Other people are born with stars at their feet, but their souls are lost at sea.

(via bl-ossomed)

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withshatteredhappiness

Depression

It’s not something you can put into words, Rather a feeling deep inside your chest When you’re sitting around those you used to love And those you’re used to hating

It’s deep Inside your bones, And seeps through your body With every breath you take

You choke on it when you sleep And sleep when you can finally swallow it It resonates deeply within your soul Tearing out the parts of happiness you used to be able to control

It’s not a poem, And it’s not a pretty something to tape onto your wall It’s a slime, covering your whole body Or the devil, watching, waiting for you to fall

- l.d.

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unteathered-blog

This. The accuracy. So real.

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9/19/16

I wish for once we as a culture could address the evil that lies behind a broken heart. That our first reaction wouldn’t be the overused lines of hope and promise. No one wants to talk about heartbreak because the picture is crooked and broken and slightly water damaged. It is not pretty. It is horrific and brutal and all consuming and each day as you wake up you feel like you could possibly drown in the sadness of it all. The black veil of despair overtakes the light that once shown through your face. And your body feels like it is in some sort of carnival fun house where you stand in front of the full length mirror hoping to find some small resemblance to who you once were but your body is distorted and your mind is confused. there is no way that this is your life. There is no way you gave your heart and your body so willingly to a man that so easily laid your heart on the ground and crushed his heel deep into your major arteries. However, He is brilliant. He is a master. The puncture is not quite deep enough to bleed out all at once. Much like a tire that has a very small hole made by a very small nail that slowly but surely progresses the tire to its demise. There is no saving it. There is no turning back. The damage has been done. There is only the waiting for a most eminent death. -excerpt from a book I'll never write

#excerpt from a book i'll never write#heartbreak#heart#love#dark#darkness