What i’m learning is that growth is ugly. It’s not bubble baths and self-help books that teach you how to love yourself. It’s fighting, kicking and screaming against the self-doubt that weighs you down. It’s panicking at the possibility of failure while still moving forward anyway. It’s slowly peeling out of your skin and feeling the tenderness of a touch without armor. The process of growth is ugly, but it’s the product that makes it worthwhile.
a.m. // what i’m learning (via writingitdown)
I try to gain on thoughts Collected
Scramble to top For perspective
A mind is slippery With justification
It’s so easy / to pool / At the bottom
I want to open my mouth and sound a language that calls all language home.
Nickole Brown, A Prayer to Talk to Animals (via tristealven)
lost o’clock by jezzini
but isn’t time just the carbon copy of a man-made concept brewed when a few thousand breaths twist their heads in reverse?
then there’s daddy hawkin saying time is an everlasting pie where its ending meets our cries & its purpose, don’t dare to fuckin’ ask.
some nights, when my minutes end their shift & my sighs wander adrift, i hear the clock spill its sins in pointless ticks; the way those seconds come climbing up these bones then diving down my throat in emptiness. in the grey & the low; in these words i aim to draw on the skins of poems screaming love with perfect rhythms but no blood.
So I entered. So I lost. I lost it all with my eyes wide open.
Ocean Vuong, Threshold (via: skinthepoet)
my mum is coming to paris on tuesday. we haven't seen each other in about a year and a half... i wanna get her flowers for when i pick her up at the airport. which kind of flower is ideal for this situation? which kind of flower shouts thank you for existing, thank you breathing by my side?
And if you ever stumble upon me asleep in dim light, next to a journal of written words. Take a photograph. My mind wide open… yet totally at peace.
-fna (via herlittleblvckbook)