January 2012
1 post
Anonymous asked: How it could be a place of cathartic confessions? or why it is?
July 2011
2 posts
3 tags
“When you’re dating a writer, you will always feel beautiful under their gaze. ...”
– -From a piece I wrote for Thought Catalog: “What It’s Like To Date A Writer”
“Dating a writer means every gesture is steeped in nuance. Life’s ups and downs...”
– From a piece I wrote for Thought Catalog: “What It’s Like To Date A Writer”
April 2011
2 posts
2 tags
3 tags
How To Avoid Emotional Entanglements.
So we are at that point. The point where all the subtle probes into my intentions and hints that you’re “not hanging out with anyone else” have proven all too subtle and my answers far too vague. So after a few shots of whiskey, lying in your bed in the dark, you’ll bravely admit you want more. You’ll say you’re still not hanging out with anyone else but this...
March 2011
2 posts
2 tags
3 tags
I got on the bus with Linda, I didn’t know her very well at the time, and wouldn’t normally have chosen to go such a long way with her, if I hadn’t had that screaming fight with Jill, my oldest friend. Jill had gone too far and said too much, I wanted to hurt her by leaving her in Delhi with the others.
I wasn’t too sure why Linda wanted to go up north, but it seemed...
February 2011
1 post
1 tag
This is the first time this story has ever been told in detail. This is not about a past boyfriend or even a past friend but its still about a ‘him’ that needs to be written off. Written off my chest, written out of my mind.
It was August, I’m thinking I was in 6th or 7th grade only because I can recall exactly what I was wearing, and I was in the ocean to the far right at...
November 2010
1 post
1 tag
When you bite your tongue all you get is a...
It’s been a really long time since I’ve been honest about my feelings or really shared my thoughts. Sometimes I even find myself going to great lengths to avoid disclosing them, trying to project some semblance of nonchalance and detachment. But by nature, I am not that person. I am not one of those girls that is intriguingly removed and seductively selfish. I can be at times, and I...
October 2010
4 posts
2 tags
3 tags
I drank too much the night before and woke up with a headache and a vague feeling of embarrassment. Vague because I couldn’t really remember what I had done to embarrass myself, but I knew I had. I rolled over and looked at you sleeping and for a minute I let myself imagine it was all a dream, those things you did. I let myself pretend that everything had returned to how it was, allowed myself...
2 tags
He was tired of guessing how she felt about him. They had been ‘hanging out’ (as she called it) for four months and he was no closer to knowing than the day he met her. He had found it endearing at first: the way she was independent, unattached and unemotional. She was a far cry from most of the women he had dated in the past. But now, because of the strong feelings he had developed for...
August 2010
5 posts
3 tags
bête rouge
I dreamt of you again last night, not by choice, and woke in a frightful sweat. The idea of you evaporates into anger and concern, that runs down my cheeks regretfully. Once upon a time, a dream you painted on my canvas. The picture of you I now despise.
Submitted by paint-thinner.
3 tags
It always happens the exact same way— the most accurate and vicious cycle: we fade away on each other’s horizons, silently tip-toeing out the back door as to not wake the other, and we steal away into the night hoping we can make the break seamlessly enough to wake up in the morning and forget. We lie in wait, separately. We go on with our lives and intertwined with others, and we’re happy....
3 tags
More than no more.
I keep turning you into writing in hopes of trying to rid you from my skin, my insides, my bones but it doesn’t seem to be working — it’s just making me fall in love with every moment we ever had even more (much more).
Submitted by 52hearts.
(Photo by lauryn holmquist)
1 tag
3 tags
Postcard from the Future
I kissed his lips, held him tight, hoped that it wasn’t over and said “I guess I’ll be seeing you.” I gave his pretty brown eyes one last glance and then I walked away. I didn’t look back; I didn’t even cry. All I did was shake. But I kept walking and I paid attention to the details of the airport, the way I hadn’t done for ages. I was always crying.
I...
June 2010
2 posts
2 tags
Buried Treasure Sentiments.
I don’t think you understand how sensitive I am. How incredibly soft, despite any façade of thick-skinned apathy I might show. And I don’t think you understand how much I truly do care for you. You couldn’t, because if you did, you wouldn’t say or do the things you did.
I suffer from no delusions. I know that in some ways, we barely have anything. But I also know I understand you on some...
Hide-and-seek, grown-up style. Wanting to hide. Needing to be sought. Confused about being found.
.Robert Fulghum.
April 2010
8 posts
4 tags
2 tags
2 tags
Three words.
It makes no sense. Living by your words only to discover some words have no meaning venomous, sweet words that make everything okay. You say it often, and often i sense it in your kiss, the taste of your unconditional lie. Submitted by bad poet.
2 tags
4 tags
My favourite memory of her is when we skipped school to spend the day together. It was so beautiful, living in our little world the size of the air beneath my sheets, my eyes drinking in the scene that any photographer would kill for: a beautiful girl in love, bathed in gentle sunlight, in my bed. We made out for hours, laughing at the stupid things we did and said, talking about the shitty...
3 tags
(Photo by isabelapolarny)
Sometimes I have the feeling that I had to grow up faster than others did; I’ve seen so much and forgot so much. Make no mistake, I wanted to forget many things, but some things I never could. To make love crying and whispering “I love you,” only to hear back “I don’t want you to love me, I want you to hate me” is not something that a child could understand. Only an...
2 tags
3 tags
619 days.
Everyone who told me distance is nothing if you truly love someone was wrong. Distance is everything. Distance is the shrapnel embedded in my heart. Distance is what makes you a stranger to me. Three hundred miles is just too much. Maybe things would have worked out better if you’d actually kept your promise and called me every day, but we haven’t spoken since your birthday....
March 2010
13 posts
2 tags
Tired Of Love.
Slip these thoughts Underneath a paperweight Hang these worries Upon the bannister Lose a penny on the floor I don’t care For I’ve grown tired of love And I don’t care anymore I’ll rest the pen for a while I’ll rest my hands from holding on too tight I’ll rest these thoughts of you And drift away from this sadness I’ve used to call my home And drift into...
2 tags
Constant Salt to a Wound.
5/7 days I work on cooling my blood as it boils, as i sit between you and your new girlfriend.
With you I broke two of my rules that I have lived by since I was 16, now 25.
Rule #1: Never get involved with someone from the three legged species who is younger than you.
Rule #2: Never eat where you shit; meaning never date, love, or have sex with someone you work/ go to school with , and have to...
1 tag
3 tags
Some things you lose, and some things you just...
(photo via Idioteque)
My favourite thing I ever gave away was a hoodie. It was ugly as fuck and was about two sizes two big for me, but I loved it. I loved it even more when she walked away from me for the last time, the hoodie still on her beautiful curved figure. I knew that I would never get it back. I’ve moved on long since, but I still think about her, and I think about the hoodie, and I...
2 tags
If I close my eyes I can still feel your hands on my face, your lips on my lips. I can still taste you and it should come as no surprise that I miss you. X marks on the calendar days until I can see you again. We have this sweet subtle silent understanding of each other. We’ve mapped out each others bodies in our minds so that when we are apart we can imagine things exactly how they are.
...
2 tags
“Forget your personal tragedy. We are all bitched from the start and you...”
– Ernest Hemingway
3 tags
B & T : the end
And this is how it ends.
It’s 4.57 in the afternoon. I’m marking papers and eating really good chocolate cake. My phone vibrates. I have a text message. I look at the familiar number. My heart starts to beat like a freight train. My hands grow clammy and my cheeks burn up. It’s been three months since I last heard from B. As I click the little red star to read his text, I know he’s asking me out...
(personal photo by Anonymous)
Part One.
She had a lot of baggage, but the times when nothing mattered were cool.
She was intriguing to me because she was better than me in our line of work.
Five foot seven, physically fit, perfect perky tits, nice ass, beautiful stomach, perfect teeth, a blond bombshell that glowed with the swagger of Ginger from Casino.
Me, I was a 22 year old paying his...
(photo by shes_jack)
To all my lovely new followers:
Thank you for following, but, please, don’t just read our memories: share your own. I want your truth.
I want your sincere and subconscious syllables, your recollections of resplendence and regret. The words only you possess because they arose from your unique experiences with love, lust and loss. Especially those fenced-in, caged-up...
“I am tired, Beloved,
of chafing my heart against
the want of you;
of...”
– Amy Lowell, “The Letter”
After I told him I loved him, the guy I lost my virginity to said that I should have sex with more people so that I learn to think with my head instead of my heart. He said he remembers what it’s like to have strong feelings (like love) for people, but it passes with time and the more people you sleep with.
But then I thought that I never wanna ignore my feelings, and I told him that I have...
“If you’re looking to get over an old love, or an old maybe this could be love if...”
– March 24, 2010 via heartbeatcity