The SS Hampton
The SS Hampton


April 3, 2014

Oh God :/
"My mother told me that you can’t cure depression,
that taking pills wouldn’t fix me and taking six
instead of the prescribed two definitely wasn’t
going to speed up the process. But I met a boy
who tasted better than Prozac. He made it easier
to get out of bed. He kissed me like I was
alive, like I wasn’t empty, like maybe there was
something left inside me. He made my bones
ache less when he touched me. He made it okay.
When my world was crashing down around me,
he picked up all the pieces. When I stopped
breathing and tried to tear open my wrists to
find the last little bits of happiness left in my
veins, he was there to lace me back together.
But he left and I haven’t washed my hair in three
weeks. My mother was right."
I met a boy who tasted better than Prozac (via extrasad)



Interior of a mosque in Iran

omg that’s beautiful I want a room like this in my future house

It’s full of colors…
"There was something wrong with her. She did not know what it was but there was something wrong with her. A hunger, a restlessness. An incomplete knowledge of herself. The sense of something farther away, beyond her reach."
Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Half of a Yellow Sun (via missjodie)
"You remind me of old library books on freshly painted bookshelves. With your floral dresses and your non-committal shrugs about being called ‘beautiful’. Your palms sweat profusely while we watched horror movies in that old cinema, but I keep it entwined to mine, safe. There is a sanctuary breathing in your whiskey-colored eyes. Like the warmth of the afternoon sun setting to the west bend of sunflower fields. I could cocoon myself in those familiar honey-vanilla skin of yours, like my own nest of peace and serenity. You gravitate me into your own version of the world. With the laughter you let out, with the wisdom the springs off your lips, with the sadness you try so hard to conceal but only adds to your mystery, with your lovely lovely mouth you have and such words spurn out of it, with your beauty that seem boundless to explore. I am spinning, in a wheel of the world. And you are the compass that navigates me. The ground that settles my feet. The air that purges my lungs. The sole reason why I am indefinite, because you hold what completes me. You carry my bones, like your own burden to the world, along with all my woes and sins, and stitch them with your own design. Smiling at me, while you wear my ring and favorite t-shirt. You are Sun incarnate, and I, a stubborn willow tree aching to reach your glow and be forever in your warmth. Naked, you are beauty that transcends oceans to bend. The contented sigh I let out, knowing I am indeed fortunate to languish each part of you. My muse, my wondrous delusion and my answered prayer. You are my most delighful if not, infinite adventure. To love you, is but a nature true to my very marrows."
Sheriza - Delilah and her missing scissors.   (via mystrangesilhouettes)

Once again I have added not eating to the list of ways I deal
with the burden of being alive. I feel too old for this.
I have this strange solidarity with my seventh grade self.
The way she lived on green apples and coffee for six months
and her mother never noticed.

The friends I live with now say nothing when I do not eat.
When I carefully measure out my 600 calories a day
and half of them are wine. It is not their responsibility
to take care of me. It is my own. But lately,
I’m doing a terrible job.

Lately I’ve been looking at my body like it belongs
to someone else. Watching it slowly shrink like the crowd
at a party that that has gone too late. My stomach
has been an enemy my entire life. I miss her now that she’s gone.
She is a conquered enemy. A vanquished foe.
I did not want to win. Not like this.

The Battle, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)