Yesterday was really nice, because after I saw the little punks I went to my grandma’s and borrowed 3 old records: The Molly Maguires Irish Ballads, the Roaring Twenties, and The Wonderful Thirties and I brought them to Nicks and listened to them and look at Spoonfish and talked about our day with the Christmas lights on
When I pulled off the expressway today there were two little hobo punks with their backs facing me, and I could see their little patches and they were holding a sign and I got so excited and started shaking and I realized that’d be me in 8 months! It was literally impossible to turn around so I just decided to let them go, but they were the sign I needed today. Fuck feeling guilty, fuck staying put, and I am so ready to do this.
It doesn’t make sense to call ourselves ugly, because we don’t really see ourselves. We don’t watch ourselves sleeping in bed, curled up and silent with chests rising and falling with our own rhythm. We don’t see ourselves reading a book, eyes fluttering and glowing. You don’t see yourself looking at someone with love and care inside your heart. There’s no mirror in your way when you’re laughing and smiling and happiness is leaking out of you. You would know exactly how bright and beautiful you are if you saw yourself in the moments where you are truly yourself.
— Unknown (via aevums)
(Source: celestialsweet, via aevums)
Pretty shit idea if you ask me
Danse Macabre by Rob Harrison
First time I’ve seen Death depicted in art as a woman, I quite like it!
“As I draw in a breath, my ribs catch every dark thought and tremor. They store them in a crevice that never should have been filled, certainly not by you. But there you are, having squirmed and squeezed your way in, you made a home there. You brightened those thoughts and soothed those tremors and there you stand proudly, pounding pounding pounding.”