"And since we all came from a woman
Got our name from a woman and our game from a woman
I wonder why we take from our women
Why we rape our women, do we hate our women?
I think it’s time to kill for our women
Time to heal our women, be real to our women
And if we don’t we’ll have a race of babies
That will hate the ladies, that make the babies
And since a man can’t make one
He has no right to tell a woman when and where to create one
So will the real men get up
I know you’re fed up ladies, but keep your head up”
- Tupac Shakur
Always reblog this.
1. I’ve been trying.. no, struggling to find the words that can correctly articulate the surging swamp of thoughts that are submerging my mended mind.– J.T, The 10 factors on the pathway to my current existence
2. I say mended because for a while now I’ve been telling myself ‘you’re better’. You’re better now. Better now. Better now. Better now.
3. However over time I developed a stutter and what started as a positive affirmation has somehow morphed into command. A knife between my shoulder blades, pushing me; ‘be-better now’. Be better now. Be better. Be better. Be better. Stop!
4. My brain is experiencing some kind of technical difficulty, I’ve said the word better so many times that it has lost all meaning and now I have no idea what I have to be. Be. Be something. But what? What sort of something? The urgency behind this unknown is stealing the air from my lungs; my lungs that are already struggling on shallow breaths.
5. I’ve been lacking a lot recently, not just oxygen, but sleep and hope are failing me also.
6. I am hopeful that I will regain hope; alas the absence of hope in the first place is proving to be significantly hindering my ability to be hopeful. Does this make sense to you?
7. Nothing makes sense anymore and I have become an impossible knot of contradictory feelings, of rational and irrational thoughts clashing like fire and ice. Fire will melt ice but not without being dampened by the resultant water in the process. I do not know how long I can go on like this.
8. I am beginning to question my entire existence. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just appreciate what I’ve got? Because fuck, I have been blessed with so much… I think that a piece of me is broken or missing. Maybe both.
9. I can’t pinpoint a time that I lost myself, and I can’t conjure up a reason from the broken fragments of the past… There is no such thing as closure.
10. Most of the time I have no fucking idea what I am talking about and I just wish I could tell you - tell anybody - how I am feeling, what’s worrying me, why my heart beat feels more like a punch in the rib-cage than an electrifying pulse of life and vitality. But I can’t. I can’t ‘be better’.
aanxiousoul.tumblr.com (via aanxiousoul)
Kinda pointless to fight for what you want when what you want continues to break your heart.– Molly McAdams, Stealing Harper (via c-oquetry)
I have scars on my hands from touching certain people.– J. D. Salinger (exoticwild: and scars on my heart from loving certain ones.)
yesterday i saw a girl laughing
in that way the people on the
Titanic did when it sank
dripped in resignation towards their cruel fate but still wanting
to be strong for the other people
i wish i could tell her she can melt the iceberg thats freezing her heart
but im still trying not to drown in cold waters myself
– Beau Taplin, You Deserve Better (via isolement)
And I learned ‘You deserve better’
was sometimes no more
than a synonym for ‘I don’t want to hurt you,
and I want you to be happy,
but I don’t love you anymore.
Does my name pass through your mind when it’s 3 am and you’re wide awake?– (via hopelesslyhealing)