I’m empty.
I’ve given everything I have in me.
I don’t wait or truly ask for anything in return.
But now I have nothing left for me.
Not a drop has been added to my vessel.
And I’m alone and thirsty.
Desperate for some kind of sign that someone still cares.
I try not to ask for anything in return.
It’s not who I am.
But here I am.
Empty and alone.
If I ask now, I’m desperate.
If I’d asked then, I’ve lost my altruism.
They are content to watch me shrivel and dry up.
Their vessels are filled.
They may have some to spare, but none for me.
I’m not worthy.
I never was.
No amount of myself was ever worth one drop of return from them.
Yet I gave anyway.
I was worried they might one day thirst, they might need extra.
But they move on, filled to the brim.
Forgetting about the empty lonely vessel.
I collect dust.
Maybe even get knocked off the shelf and broken into a million pieces.
Not a piece returns a memory of me.
The one who gave her last drop,
To make him happy.
Sometimes I just think depression’s one way of coping with the world. Like, some people get drunk, some people do drugs, some people get depressed. Because there’s so much stuff out there that you have to do something to deal with it.
Ned Vizzini (via quotemadness)
— an anonymous woman on coming to terms with being a lesbian in the 1950’s-60’s, from an interview with Deborah Goleman Wolf
Randomly hearing your song on the radio is more satisfying then playing it directly from your phone (source)
— Edna St. Vincent Millay, from a letter to Arthur Davison Ficke featured in Savage Beauty: The Life of Edna St. Vincent Millay.
“Got me up all night”
— J Cole
“Being understood is a different type of drug.”
— Jay Vespertine
i never feel like i have enough time to do anything. i have so much to learn and to accomplish but i always feel like i’m being chased by the shadows of shortening hours, and i have to remind myself to breathe.
we have all the time in the world, but also, we don’t. (via a-quietsoul)
Come to life
Maybe if I write about you you’ll come to life
Maybe I just haven’t been putting in the effort to bring you closer to me
I haven’t worn my hands out from writing about you and who I imagine you to be
But surely you have been in my mind and my heart
You’ve existed beyond the words I could ever write
My mere existence confirms yours
The longing I have
The love I hold in place reserved just for you
The devotion I’m ready to bestow on you
The unconditional intentional commitment I’m so ready to have to us and to you
Sometimes I wonder if it’s safer to keep all this inside, to not jinx it all for us by putting the words out there
I don’t know, I’m conflicted
Writing about you somehow makes me feel closer to you
Feels like bringing you to life
I can’t wait to have you read all this, if you ever come…
do u ever like feel so absurdly reluctant to do things. like it ain’t even procrastination or laziness anymore u just physically and mentally can’t bring yourself to do anything. u really, really just wanna binge watch youtube until your mind numbs completely or lie on the floor and stare into the abyss. and it’s not like u don’t have “motivation” or anything or even that u don’t want to do it, it’s just. u can’t. idk how ppl just. Do Things. get up and go at it. i have to have an entire existential crisis and like, watch a goddamn motivational film or something first before i do the smallest thing. and it’s june for fuck’s sake.