Latest Posts by crucecurves - Page 2

please don't ever think that no one cares about you

I work in an ER and we see suicides all the time. And we get at least 3 suicidal ideations a night. We all care about you. I promise, we do. A team of complete strangers who have worked 3+ 12 hour shifts this week who are being screamed at all day and night and probably haven’t had lunch and trust me, we still love you and care about you.

We had a 16 year old patient last night who we couldn’t save. We were in that room with this patient for over an hour, we did everything we could. And let me tell you, we all cried. The EMT’s, the nurses, the doctor. We all huddled together in the doctors dictation room and cried.

I went through the rest of my shift with smudged mascara and tracks on my cheeks.

I remember the names of all the patients that have taken their lives on my shifts.

I remember squeezing the hands, smoothing the hair, kissing the foreheads, and wiping away the blood and the vomit of every patient that has left me too soon.

I can still see every face that I have zipped into a body bag.

Trust me, someone cares about you. You have never met them yet. You don’t ever think about them. They are never remembered when you talk about heroes and role models.

But someone loves you.

All credit to @thefrizzkid for the original (the pink)

I needed this so badly. I always wonder if it will end because I want it to get better. So desperately. But I’m going to hold on.

You’ve come a lot farther than you often think. You’re doing so great! :))

All credit to @thefrizzkid for the original (the pink)

“Maybe I want to keep running away.” “Fine. Then run. Keep running. Run until you think you’ve escaped all this. But the moment you stop, the moment you settle, the moment you start to fall in love again, everything you’ve done and everyone you’ve hurt? It will all catch up to you. I can promise you that.

from an unfinished story #439 (via thoughts-into-ink)

Start with her fire. Start with her teeth. Start by pulling her down by the back of her neck, and kissing the past away. - You’re standing on that beach again, and your past is walking away. You can hear the slap of the waves on the shoreline, taste the salt of the ocean and the salt of her tears on your lips. (she hasn’t cried, not yet; you wonder if she’s incapable now, so hard are the lines on her heart – she hasn’t cried, but you can still taste them, coating the roof of your mouth) You’re standing on that beach again, for a different reason, with a different emotion weighing down your hearts— (heart?) —your past is walking, running, fading away. Your future holds your hand. - You kiss the pain away. You’re two nights into this new life and she’s not thinking about you, but she is, but she isn’t, and you wonder after what another you said earlier – about fire, and blood, and rage. You wonder at the way she bites your mouth, like she’s trying to eat you alive, and perhaps she is. You wonder at the way she holds you, at the way she likes the pain, at the way she loves it with company. You’re not so different in that regard – nowadays, you’re not so different in a lot of regards. - She was a goddess once. She’d taken the light of the universe and had cradled it inside, replaced her heart with it, for a bit. It had leaked through her smile and shone on you, seeped into you and you had cherished it, cherished her. She was a goddess once. Now she is a ruin of a temple, but you still look on her with reverence. - You hear her sobbing through her bedroom door when you should both be asleep, and you can’t help the breathless sigh coming through your parted lips. On the beach, you’d thought her incapable of tears, and you’ve never been so relieved to hear her cry. - You start with her teeth. You start with her tears. You pull them out and wipe them away, one by one, one by one. The second night she cries, you open the door and sit on the edge of her bed until she crawls her way into your arms. It’s hard for you too, and she knows it. But she’s always been selfish in that heartbreakingly human way, and she kisses you until she’s bitten the rotten-candy-apple-truth out of you. You’re hurting. You’re broken. Both of you, together. Perhaps it’s enough. - Start with the fire. End in the ashes. Sometimes, you miss the stars to the point of aching, miss your freedom to the point of breaking. She doesn’t cry much anymore. Sometimes she rests her head on your chest and frowns at the weak pitter-pat of one heart. Sometimes, her eyes get so dark and heavy with one memory or another. You know that look. You wore it, once, a life and a half back. You remember nicking your face shaving and cursing every species from humans to harpies. You remember waking up from a nap in the console room in a cold sweat, and you remember her patience, such godly patience even when you swore six ways from Sunday that she was nothing more than a stupid ape. She loved you then, you can love her now. Start with her fire. (be burned, just a little along the way) Then with her teeth. (she’ll be like a phoenix, darling) End in her ashes. (she’ll rise up again, and it will be worth it) It will be so worth it.

and, again | his-braveheart (via his-braveheart)