Latest Posts by empyrean01 - Page 3

snail mail mental health support!

hey! i know that particularly with the start of a new school year, a lot of people are feeling lonely and are struggling with their mental health. at some point, i would like to find the funds to send mental health care packages, but until then, how about some mental health support letters?

i’ll send a hand written letter along with other little things such as playlists, art, poetry, stickers, etc.! this is just to give you a little boost but if you’d like an actual pen pal and feel like writing back, feel free to do so but it’s definitely not a requirement or expectation!

unfortunately, i can only do this within the UK, but even if you’re not in the UK i’d appreciate if you could reblog to help reach more people.

if you’re interested, please message me with your name and address for me to send the letter, along with your pronouns, what you’ve been struggling with, and some of your favourite things (favourite colours, animals, anything!)

if you're a student at all, please take care of yourself. you don't need to compete with your classmates for who slept the least or who drank the most coffee. eat breakfast and go to sleep a little earlier. lay off studying for a night and do something nice for yourself. your body and brain will thank you.

she’s toxic yet tasty is the best way i could describe her

lord knows what drives me to be in love with her

her toxicity sinks beneath her ethereal soul, so ethereal my eyes spin and my body loses its balance and tranquility

she’s a devil disguised as a guardian angel

they say love is blind, and it truly is, what my eyes show me is far beyond the truth

maybe i’m in love with the idea of her and all that she is

to my disappointment, that is beyond insufficient

as toxic as she is, i went to spend my days swimming is her river of poison, kissing her poisonous lips till my whole body is infiltrated by the poison in hope that before it reaches my heart she herself will heal me for she is my poison yet my remedy too

do u ever like feel so absurdly reluctant to do things. like it ain’t even procrastination or laziness anymore u just physically and mentally can’t bring yourself to do anything. u really, really just wanna binge watch youtube until your mind numbs completely or lie on the floor and stare into the abyss. and it’s not like u don’t have “motivation” or anything or even that u don’t want to do it, it’s just. u can’t. idk how ppl just. Do Things. get up and go at it. i have to have an entire existential crisis and like, watch a goddamn motivational film or something first before i do the smallest thing. and it’s june for fuck’s sake.

“i like every person i meet. for like 17 days. after that either they expect too much or give too little. expectations and expectations and some more. it’s not like they like me indefinitely. shall i put in the effort and emotion to get to know them beyond their superficial layers and see the love and the hurt and the humanity in them when they are just going to stop caring about my existence perhaps at day 67 or 172? Shall i pacify the devil inside them when it will laugh at my attempts when they walk away at day 213? shall i? or shall i just shut up and go to sleep.”

—

— an anonymous woman on coming to terms with being a lesbian in the 1950’s-60’s, from an interview with Deborah Goleman Wolf

Some days I need you more than others,

days when I don’t feel like myself and

I have forgotten my name and 

why I keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

These days I wish you could just hold me, 

just hold me in your arms tight, 

center me and be my light. 

Be the warmth that keeps away the infinite cold,

that I feel chills me to the bone.

Hold me in these days when I am not strong,

when I am but a muted shadow of myself 

when I need a reason to hold on.

I don't know if I am being selfish,

but I just tell you what I must, 

what I feel deep inside my heart and

I need you so much every day of my life, 

but these days I need you most,

to remember I am worth loving and fighting for. 

e.v.e.

I wanna run away with someone in the middle of the night and go on adventures and see the world and eat at cheap truck stops and sit on top of our car and look at the stars and just be somewhere other than here. 

I wanna run away with someone in the middle of the night and go on adventures and see the world and eat at cheap truck stops and sit on top of our car and look at the stars and just be somewhere other than here. 

“I do not desire mediocre love. I want to drown in someone.”

— (via nostalgicnerd)

“A well-chosen book saves you from everything, including yourself.”

— F. Scott Fitzgerald (via minuty)

God is the only reason I made it this far.

the hardest thing about poetry

is honesty.

how do i give words to the

interior of my soul

and then put it out for

the entire world to see?

knowing that there are

blurry faces i see everyday 

but don’t really talk to

who will remember my poems

the next time they look at

my face and think-

this is what she feels,

this is what she hides.

so, here is a confession 

as the new year is upon us:

much of what i write isn’t honest,

it isn’t me.

my poetry is not me.

if you want to find me,

if you seek what i hide,

look carefully in the spaces

between the words,

in the pauses and the hyphens.

search for me in the white in between

the black print, 

in all the unexpressed

in the midst of the art.

even at my best,

find me in the silence

bursting between the 

adjacent syllables,

then don’t just look,

hear,

listen to what one word 

whispers to the other,

how they acknowledge the unsaid

by leaving space for it on the screen

to exist

then don’t just hear,

smell,

breathe in the vaguely musky scent

of all the letters that never made it

on to the screen in front of you

because i pressed backspace,

either because they didn’t really 

say what i really wanted to 

or because they said it a little too well.

then when all this is done,

feel it.

understand

that this is why in school

you were taught four different interpretations

for a single line and although

that might exasperate you,

this is why a poem is more than

the sum of the words that

it consists of,

this is the reason why the words

you read on paper and on your screen

will never be where the 

true meaning of the poem lies.

but the truth sits there

squeezed in between all the noise,

patiently waiting,

somehow always the winner

of this game of

literary hide and seek.

but now,

if you want to,

at least you know where to find it.

is there anything more fun than creating something and being able to say “this is how I feel”

“Hush now, don’t speak. I can read your thoughts in your eyes, sense them in the way you hold my hand. I know what you want to say when you hold me tight and can’t seem to let me go. Sometimes we’re better off enjoying the silence, better off filling the space between the lines. Letting the unsaid things talk. We don’t have to give it a name as long as we both know what we’re in over our heads. Sometimes words simply aren’t needed. Not when I’m with you.”

— hush now / n.j.

white sand, waves splashing, wind blowing

for a moment i got lost in the ocean’s ethereal beauty and i envied the moon for being able to see it everyday, i lingered in that state of serenity as the moon vowed its love for the ocean wishing i could do the same to you but i knew better than to break my own fragile heart like that as unfortunately the feelings aren’t reciprocal

— my heart

Source.

Her

‪i could talk about the way she made me feel all day long, i had spent days and nights day-dreaming of the spontaneous adventures i longed to have with her‬

with my bare imagination, i could outline on a blank canvas the shape of her torso all the way down her hips

or the way her face lightened up when she shyly smiled

god knows how jolly my days would be with her divine presence

god knows she would be the cause of my sanity as without her, my heart turns wild and i lose my sanity unable to control my emotions and endlessly longing for love only she could give me

joy, only her eyes could give me, and freedom only she could grant me.

for her i would steal the sky a million times and over

for the joy she gives me has no price,

i would leap over mountains and cross oceans to simply listen to her speak of all her anime fantasies and all her favorite characters, to listen to her dreams and all the weird food combinations she loves.

“Abandonment does not hurt me. It is the beauty of memories that ache my heart.”

_ S. K. S

A Call

I felt the need to call you.

.

You had promised me.

But it seems I was only dreaming.

The abysmal dark threatens to swallow me.

To dampen my whispered calling.

You had vowed to come to me.

“Anytime”, you said, “you shall ever need me.”

The promise lies broken I fathom.

You should be here by now

But it seems that you won’t ever come.

I don’t fear my fall for I can rise up to move again.

But what about your promises that stay broken?

.

~ aranya

By ryancphoto

~ Clouds and stars and scapes of blue always veil the thoughts of you. Something deeper than desire has fallen amongst us, yet I feel that the promises of forever will inevitably stumble into a void between maybe and never. But if had the choice, I’d somehow bind our chapters into a story. I’d peer into tomorrow and maybe witness your wish to stay. Yet a part of me dares not to disturb the door of fate (or maybe I am too scared of what I would see beyond it)。

_lostinmyreveries

American sculptor and designer Isamu Noguchi (1904-1988), here at 19 in 1923.

Sometimes you just gotta stay silent cause no words can explain the shit that’s going on in your mind and heart.

I dream of...

I dream of the empty tunnels within the earth,

where once worms lived but now only their corpses lay in the poisoned dirt. 

I dream that the sick earth gives away beneath our feet, that mankind slips down passing our equally sickened history as we go. 

I dream there are trees forever preserved in plastic, bones of fish that twist in deformation, the hornless rhinos mouths are still wide in pain and in their blank eye sockets remains fear, small bones lay next to big ones. 

 Finally, we reach our ancestors alongside the mammoths they slew,

 the only genuinely recognizable corpses. 

I dream that we never hit the end, our bodies fall upwards as we pass our mistakes, our triumphs are few and far between. 

Then I wake up. 

I stand on the dirt that I dreamt of, waiting for the human race’s sins to pull me down. 

I feel nothing but the worms digging beneath my feet, I do not feel the waxy plastic or the sharp bones of fish,

but it is then I realize I’m still dreaming. 

— an anonymous woman on coming to terms with being a lesbian in the 1950’s-60’s, from an interview with Deborah Goleman Wolf