Moona-257 - Things Ive Lost On The Way Here

I write so much about ugly past relationships but you, you were something entirely different. what role I did I play in our pathetic little love scene, honey? was I the main love interest, or just an extra in your miserable play?

all those bus rides at night, sharing earphones and listening to pop punk, my head on your shoulder whilst I ignored the missed calls from my parents. it was so naive, all of it. so empty. the fairytale with a thousand plot holes: the unavailable prince, midnight but still in tattered boots and ripped jeans, no fireworks, no true love’s kiss. just pain. just so much pain.

you were so shallow and insincere, talking about some girl whilst your hand was on my knee. kissing me in the back so your friends wouldn’t see, saying that she was boring and I was just, so different. I knew it was just a line, a lie, but god, was I willing to play the role of the girl who’d change you.

all those nights spent holding your hair back as you threw up vodka and pills. all those days spent lying in the sun as you came down, trying to convince you that life was worth living. all those aching, violent emotions and clenched fists. no softness. a love like sandpaper, a love like drowning, a love like violence.

tousling my hair and spinning like a ballerina, dizzy and worn out but used to the merry go round. a puppet to play with when you grew bored. your manic pixie dream girl, directing your love story. your manic pixie dream girl, teaching you how to live. your manic pixie dream girl, banished from your life as soon as you didn’t need her.

Artist Luo Li Rong

4:02am. we were always doomed weren’t we? on the drive home, listening to bottlemen and waiting for you to kiss me. you and me, always heading for a dead end we knew was just around the corner.

I lean my head back onto the passenger seat whilst your hands grip the steering wheel, close my eyes and imagine you above me spilling your soul onto my lips. waiting for you to pull over and kiss me. always waiting, waiting.

cheap wine doesn’t quite taste the same without you. and when you lean in, I taste it all on your breath. the sweet clouds of alcohol and teen romance and the inevitable loss that’ll come from this. a backseat romance that won’t survive the crash.

lips so hungry and dripping with want. can you feel the way my body pleads for your hands? can you feel the way my lips grow more desperate for you? can you feel my skin growing hot under your touch, like the friction of the tires as the car swerves and crashes into the end of a one-way street?

bottlemen doesn’t quite sound the same without you anymore and mostly, out of all the pain you caused me, I hate that you’ve made me hate my favourite band.

isnt he so hot people say and im like who and people say this guy and im like who and people keep saying oh this guy he kinda looks a little weird but hes so attractive and im like who well he played this character from this movie and hes so attractive and im like okay can i see a picture and the guy always looks like this

types of people: film genres

film noir: wears a lot of black, has a constant air of mystery, effortlessly sultry, prefers to be alone, doesn’t even write down their secrets, probably the smartest person you know

screwball comedy: clumsy, quick-witted, has an infectious laugh, not afraid of being embarrassed, a lot of self-deprecating jokes, fit and energetic, some communication issues

science fiction: has a vast and varied collection of books, seeks out one-of-a-kind works of art, stays up late, keeps a lot of notes, openly talks about social issues, surprisingly existential

horror: wears jewel tones, constantly aching for october, reads gothic literature, prefers gloomy weather, not squeamish, intrigued by spooky stories, a night person

fantasy: decorates with fairy lights, puts flowers in their hair, has a sweet tooth, wears blankets as capes, spends way too much on scented candles, frequently watches disney movies, believes in magic/wishes it were real

musical: wears lots of different colors, sings in the shower, cheerful and friendly, twirls a lot, loves to be with people and play games, doesn’t mind being the center of attention, prefers being out of the house

period drama: a romantic soul, loves lace and satin, goes on picnics, enjoys the ritual of makeup and skincare, fascinated by old fashion trends, owns more than one book of poetry, goes antique shopping

“Nemesis inhabited a dark paradise of her own making. She never held back. I loved her for her frightful hatred, her frightful love. I admired her stunning passion for revenge; the mercilessness in her eyes.”

— Lola Ridge, from To the Many; Collected Poems of Lola Ridge; “Hellish,”

a love letter as a hug, as your head in my lap, as the romance of room 56, with the lights turned off. there have been so many nights i wished i was crawling into bed beside you, so many late night library sessions where i wished you were across me, eyes glued to your laptop, days where i wished i was reaching across the mattress to rest against your tenderness, the sweet softness of you.

baby I can’t bear the thought of letting you down. you’re the one I dress up for, the one I cry in secret for. i don’t call you when the world is crumbling because I want you to believe that I’m successful and beautiful and strong. whenever I love someone new, I hide every breakdown like a secret shame. I know if you found out how frightened I actually am, you’ll leave. they always do. believe me, lover. I know how this story goes.

three cherubs oil - eduardo tojetti

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oh you’re lovely at being the victim, aren’t you? pout your lips and say that you never knew what you did to me. held me like i meant something to you. broken glass jaw, splintered ash and telephone calls. oh how silly i am, oh how naive.