Hello There :)

uk those books you read because they have a certain atmosphere.

Well, my favourite type of books have this one.

Usually something or someplace abandoned, decaying and the atmosphere indicates something is wrong, but you can't place it quite yet.

while reading through such stories, you feel a shiver run down your spine, not the ghost jumpscare kind. The sad, loneliness that haunts something or someone or someplace.

For some reason you picture the colour dark green, the rotten mossy kind, the damp forest floor kind or a blue, a blue so inky and dark, it almost feels like night, almost.

It's cold to the bone, it either rains too much or snows a lot. Secrets are unearthed or buried with it and you just can't wait for more.

hydrangeas (*¯︶¯*)

Cat boyfriend

This poem was inspired by two suggestions people sent me, "bottled up emotions" and "process to healing". I decided to write just one for both. I see it as a little story of redemption.

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Source: https://mobile.twitter.com/mattecashew32/status/1537490263358185472

My problem is that I live inside my head too much. I drag my life around like a raging demigod dragging a corpse, only no one will come at my door in the dead of the night to ease my fire. I bear a kind of weariness and discontent no sleep can satisfy because the world I wake up to is painfully dull in comparison to the ones I created in my head. I let my thoughts drift to far-off places, to unfamiliar landscapes I'll probably never set foot on just to shun the tedious sameness of days. I escape because I can't bear the vague nausea of being paper skin and hollow bones. I turn in on myself  because people and their expectations bruise me. There is no method in this madness but I will lie straight through my teeth if someone ever asks.

I don't know how long my body will tolerate this somnambulist life I live. There are predators in every world, and sometimes they are made of whispers from the void. What if one day I wake up standing on the edge of  a precipice? I'm scared I'll choose to meet my demons below instead of walking back home. You think you know all about it because I always write about the disquiet in me but my words don't conjure it the way it really is. The suffocation, the paralysis of the soul, the horror of the depths— all are lost in translation. But as long as I never let the dust get to my teeth I can swim back up. I let it gather on my tongue instead, and I use it to taunt  the bony hands in the abyss reaching for my throat.

It's not fair to feel like fading while remaining perfectly solid in everyone's eyes, to be as lifeless as a statue in a dark room while the party goes on just outside the door. That's why in this life there will always be trains I will run after, misty woods I'll dream of running into, and birds I'll stare longingly at until the clouds consume them. I scream these all in papers with a maddening frustration until my temples ache. I hope you know I don't wish to play god, I just want to stop burning.

— artemis, "Sleepwalking"

rb to relieve the back pain of the person u reblogged this from

ty ♡ @darcymariaphoster

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hot shower or cold shower // texting or calling // earbuds or headphones // paperback or hardcover // matte or gel // 12 hour clock or 24 hour clock // blue or green // sunsets or sunrises // tulips or orchids // candle light or moonlight // sci-fi or horror // pen or pencil // pandas or koalas // gold or silver // sneakers or boots // denim jacket or leather jacket // pink or purple // chocolate or sour candy // deodorant or perfume // drive-in movie theater or the cinema // pastel colors or neutral earth tones // lemonade or fruit juice // past or future //

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